Behind The Mask Phantom Of The Opera นิยาย & เรื่องราว

Then I held the mask up to my face in the bathroom mirror and saw someone I didn't recognize staring back – mysterious, dangerous, the kind of woman who walks into rooms full of strangers and doesn't flinch – and I decided that woman deserved one night alive. The venue is a converted mansion on the edge of the city. I arrive at ten in a black gown – backless, floor-length, slit to my upper thigh on the left side – and the mask tied behind my head. The doorman checks my invitation. Doesn't ask my name. Just nods and opens the double doors into a world that doesn't operate by any rules I know.

His shoulders rose slightly as if the sound affected him deeply, as if my voice touched him. When the last note faded, he exhaled—a soft, almost sensual release of breath. “She is mine.” The words hit me like a physical blow. Madame Elladine bowed deeply. “My Lord Morcant—” Lord Morcant. The patron. The masked phantom of The Blood Opera. The man whose name was spoken in fearful admiration throughout London’s underworld. He raised a hand, silencing her. His gaze pinned me in place. “Miss Wynn,” he murmured, his voice smooth as velvet over steel, “Welcome to my opera.”

If I hadn’t, I might have a Phantom here to dance with me, and to make me feel beautiful and less broken. Then, as if on cue, he came through the gym door. A Phantom of the Opera. He was dressed in red, and had a full skeleton face mask. He looked imposing, and commanding. It was just like the scene after the song Masquerade, only nobody cared about him but me. I stared at him as he scanned the gym. Eventually, our eyes met, and he began to make his way over to me.

He says and I smile at him not wanting to agree to anything until later tonight. The limo came to a stop and Chase pulled out a mask from a box that was sitting across from us on the seat. It was black and white and reminded me of the phantom of the opera mask but more consuming on the face. The door to the limo opened and Chase got out first and his hand extended to mine, and I took it letting him help me out.

I caught it mid-air and twisted it around, before getting it behind his back. But I realized that it was too late. As I brought my sight up, I stared at his face through the mirror, where he looked shocked as hell with wide eyes, that almost came out of his sockets. His eyes remained widened as he looked straight into my eyes and realization flickered through him.

As they navigated through the crowd, he whispered in her ear, "You're the most beautiful woman present, Vivienne. Don't let their stares unnerve you." She glanced up at him, her eyes twinkling with a playfully sarcastic glint. "Oh please," she scoffed, gesturing to the face mask. The ribbons quivered lightly in the air, fluttering with every step and sway of her body. “No one can even see my face through this thing.” He raised an eyebrow, a subtle smile playing on his lips. "The mask only adds to the allure. Trust me, I would know." Her heart skipped a beat at his words, and she found herself grateful for the mask that concealed the telltale signs of her emotions. The dance of gazes and whis

Amore said with a smile. "What? Are you going to go on your revenge by pretending? Amore, you might be cursed again when he finds out. You know he's a cunning man, don't you?" He replied full of concern. "Ah, I'll take care of it. I can pretend as long as I have a different face. I can't take off my mask, because he will suspect me!"

The man behind the mask she sought after. @cycy

Not too far. Just enough to follow without being noticed. I had acted normal all day. Like nothing was wrong. Like I wasn't curious about the mask I found in her bathroom last night. Like I believed her silly excuse. I almost scoffed. “Costume party,” I muttered. Yeah right. That wasn’t just any mask. And she knew it. I knew it. And now— Whatever the hell this was? It just confirmed everything. Because that wasn’t all. All day… She had been off.

Fear was the only thing that would keep him alive when the masks came down and the music started. I stepped out of the alcove. My heels struck the stone - tick, tick, tick - a clock counting down to something that had already begun. The corridor stretched before me, lined with tapestries of dead kings and older lies, and I walked it like I owned every shadow between the torches. Another Masquerade was coming. The masks were already chosen. The orchestra was already tuning. And when the first note played, when Jaxon stepped into his precious East Ballroom with his bought-and-paid-for containment circle and his hero's smile hidden behind gilt and silk -