Clarissa Emerson is a girl with many talents. All her life she has excelled in the things she pursued. She has a dream to chase and a life to love. One day, she landed in 19th Century France and kicked the Phantom in the face. Wait, what?
The comfor...
Author's Note: First of all, I am so sorry I couldn't update this on time. I was busy with my final exams and had absolutely no time for anything else. Good news is my exams are finally over and I can give more time to writing. Thank you so much for waiting. Hope you all enjoy this update! *Credits to the artists for all the illustrations in this chapter.*
Clarissa's POV
The entrance of the Opera Populaire was bustling with people and carriages. Familiar faces were all covered in stunning masks, making it impossible to recognise people without hearing their voices or looking at them up close. Our coachman handed our invitation to the gatekeeper, who noticed the family emblem on the carriage and sent us in a separate section with no crowd. We finally get down near the carpet laid at the entrance, with most people guessing our identities thanks to the carriage we came in. the sky was filled with bustling fire crackers, painting the city with its bright lights. The place was noisy, colourful and pretty much spectacular. It was a sensory overload to say the least and I was damn excited to have this last night of party before leaving for good.
Aziel: Oh my god this party is LIVELY. You wouldn't find something so happening even in the most exclusive clubs of LA.
Clarissa: You bet! I'm so glad we got to experience this.
Christine: This is my first public ball after my engagement. I'm so nervous Clary!
Clarissa: Don't be, just go with Raoul and have a good time. Meanwhile me and Aziel will check out the wines.
The four of us entered together, but were eventually separated in our four directions while meeting and greeting people. Christine was pulled in by her group of ballerinas. Raoul was off to greet the French elite. Aziel was surrounded by a group of young businessmen and merchants completely amazed by his detailed knowledge of American industrialisation. While I was taken in by the group of nobility women who were keen on knowing if I were to restart my business again.
After what seemed like forever of casual conversations and gossips, I excused myself to take a breather. I gulped the last sip of champagne, handing the glass over to a waiter. The musicians had now started playing a slow waltz, with some couples scattered around, dancing. Most people were still engaged in conversations. I walked slowly around the place, taking in every detail, every sight and trying my best to etch it all in my memory. Every part of this place had my fondest memories attached to it. I felt a purge of emotions as the champagne had started to lighten my steps. That's when as heavy male voice from the back whispered in my ear, with a warm hand resting on my waist.
"Mademoiselle, may I have the honour of having this dance?"
I would recognise that voice even in my sleep, a voice that haunts my dreams and melts my heart. I turn around to see him, standing there dressed as the Red Death, with his palm raised towards me.
My heart thundered in my chest as we made eye-contact. His eyes were locked in mine, in a intense gaze that said everything and nothing. His hand was still raised in my direction. I could see him mouth the words, "please".
I felt a light, liberating emotion when I took his hand. His gaze fell upon our gloved hands, together, entwined in a harmony that was meant to be. He slowly raised my hand up to his lips and left a soft kiss.
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