Due to repetitive journal entries, I was able to conduct multiple time skips but made wary important hints or clues that were scattered among the pages. Anything I felt was valuable had a place in my notes.

I am walking down the road coated in freshly laid snow, but I hardly notice the cold, as I am devoted to my notes.

My great great great great grand' mere was quite detailed in her writings, describing every nook and cranny she could have possibly found to scribble.

It seemed throughout the years, Meg and Nicolette had become very close friends. They rehearsed and practiced together, Meg acting as a tutor, and Nicolette rising to become one of the most spectacular ballerinas in the group.

However, when she found this out, she neglected any recognition, as it influenced popularity beyond the walls of the opera house. She remained in the chorus with the other ballerinas, allowing Meg to take her place of glory, and the others are chosen as well. Though this did not stop Madame Giry from asking her if she would accept the lead role in the ballets.

Even the main male ballerina, Massimo, with whom she had taken a fancy, recognized her talent and asked her himself to take her place in the spotlight.

Of course, she declined respectfully and went on dancing with the background chorus.

Now it's my turn to venture into this great big realm and find out for myself the secrets behind this phantom. Perhaps there is something she left behind that I may be able to recover so as to engage in further investigation. Or a mark under the ash this masked demon neglected to hide.

I finally make it back to the city and find a cab that will take me to the opera house. Though with this cold, I don't think I can go on much longer without a hot refreshment.

With this in mind, I detour to the cafe just down the street from the opera house.

Here I sit in a warm chair near their large fireplace and order a small cup of hot chocolate, topped with whipped cream, and flavored further with a drop of mint.

It melts my frozen hands and warms my throat, warming my entire body from head to foot.

Though as I sit here, I cannot help but feel as if I am being watched. I shifted in my seat with a cautious wandering eye, ensuring my position here is safe. And yet it could also be the rush of my nerves from the strange encounter at the cemetery. I didn't feel alone there either, and I haven't felt so since.

"Je Suis certain de devenir fou," I mutter to myself. "I just need to calm down."

As I make myself comfortable again, I allow another wandering eye, when I notice a boy about my age staring at me from his table. But as soon as I glance his way, he turns his eye back to his journal.

I glance a few more times, confirming my suspicion of being watched.

Just look away, just look away.

A few moments pass when he suddenly approaches me, holding his journal under his arm. "Excusez Moi madame-"

"Need a closer view?" I interrupt him.

He shook his head. "Please forgive me, madame. But... you are very familiar."

"Suis-Je?"

He nods. "Oui. You remind me of someone I knew... very long ago..."

"Well," I sit up, "have you completed your investigation?"

"Oui," he replies awkwardly. "Mes excuses, madame."

After making his peace I watch him venture into the Paris snow and vanish into the street. "C'était étrange... That was very odd..."

Something tells me I won't be seeing the last of him.