Her Majesty's Theatre
The theater where The Phantom of the Opera was performed.
Leave it to the British to name a theater after Her Majesty.
{Why aren't we sitting in the best seats?!}
"TKTS doesn't sell those."
{Then why buy discounted tickets? You've made plenty of money.}
"Haha. Just bear with me this once. Besides, they said there weren't any great same day seats available anyway."
Though she grumbled, Miho didn't move toward the front.
Instead, she settled onto Yu Myeong's right shoulder.
Yu Myeong looked around the theater with fascinated eyes.
The seating here was remarkably steep.
Rows cascaded downward along the incline, all converging toward the stage.
Unlike Korea, where dedicated musical theaters were rare, West End theaters often hosted a single production for months or even years.
As a result, they poured unimaginable effort into stage design.
And then there was the orchestra.
"Whew... I've never seen a performance accompanied by a live orchestra before."
{How provincial.}
As showtime approached, the orchestra began tuning.
Strings whined and hummed into harmony.
Gradually the lights dimmed.
The overture began.
Live music was not something one merely heard.
It was something one felt.
The vibrations resonated through the skin itself.
Already, Yu Myeong felt as though half his body had crossed into the world of the musical.
Boom.
Boom.
Boom.
The first scene revealed a ruined theater.
An abandoned opera house.
An auction was being held to dispose of its remaining possessions.
The play began with the sound of a hammer confirming a sale.
"This item is a poster from a performance of Hannibal. We begin bidding at ten francs."
The very first line startled Yu Myeong.
He understood it.
He understood the dialogue.
They were speaking English, yet the meaning arrived effortlessly.
Not as though his ears were translating.
Not as though subtitles were appearing in his mind.
Rather, he understood it like a native speaker.
Even the implications hidden between the lines.
"The ability to understand all English language works without subtitles."
The gift Miho had given him.
"My God..."
{Feels nice, doesn't it?}
While Yu Myeong remained spellbound by the dialogue, several more items were auctioned off.
Then it was finally time.
The [N O V E L I G H T] enormous object covered in a gray cloth at the center of the stage.
The auctioneer paused dramatically before explaining its significance.
"Some of you may still remember...
The Phantom of the Opera."
Several audience members visibly flinched.
"That incident remains a mystery to this day.
And this is the very chandelier that brought disaster upon the theater."
The auctioneer lowered his voice conspiratorially.
The gray cloth fell away.
Beneath it stood an enormous chandelier.
Magnificent.
Classical.
Its sheer size overwhelming, as though dozens of people had been combined into a single object.
"Thanks to modern technology, it has been completely restored and even reconnected to electricity. In fact...
I daresay that if the Phantom himself were to see it now, he might flee in astonishment."
Flicker.
Flicker.
The chandelier lit up.
Yu Myeong jumped.
It wasn't merely a prop.
It was a functioning electrical fixture.
Then—
It didn't stop there.
The golden chandelier, laden with sparkling crystal, began to rise.
Slowly.
Gracefully.
Upward.
Yu Myeong rubbed his eyes.
He hadn't imagined it.
The chandelier was genuinely floating.
Not toward the stage ceiling.
It ascended diagonally above the audience, climbing higher and higher until it illuminated the entire theater.
Then it settled high overhead.
Dominating the space.
A shiver ran through him.
Yu Myeong wrapped his arms around his shoulders.
The chandelier...
had returned.
An opera rehearsal.
Dancers dressed in exotic costumes.
Armored generals.
A gigantic elephant prop.
A leading soprano delivering dazzling operatic flourishes.
The Phantom who lived within the theater caused a small accident and sent a threatening letter.
The prima donna stormed out.
The stage manager proposed a replacement.
A dancer whose singing had improved dramatically after studying under a mysterious teacher.
"A mere dancer in the lead role? Ridiculous."
"You'll understand once you hear her. Sing for us, Christine."
Christine.
The dancer who had been handed an opportunity through misfortune.
Under everyone's gaze, she opened her lips.
*"Think of me,
Think of me fondly when we've said goodbye..."*
Goosebumps erupted across Yu Myeong's skin.
Her voice was completely different from the previous soprano's.
No elaborate techniques.
No overwhelming force.
Just clarity.
Purity.
A pristine soprano line that rose effortlessly into the air.
Like icy spring water flowing across his skin.
The sound tickled his chest.
Music.
Music was different from acting.
The joy of theater came from tension.
From twists.
From story.
The stimulus passed through the brain before reaching the heart.
Actors were intermediaries.
Their role was to convince the audience that fiction was reality.
The better the deception, the greater the emotional impact.
But music sometimes bypassed the brain entirely.
Even if the narrative structure was imperfect.
Even if the performance was technically flawed.
A song sung with genuine feeling struck directly at the heart.
*"If you ever find a moment,
Spare a thought for me..."*
Christine's song did exactly that.
Clear.
Rich.
Gentle rather than aggressive.
It pierced his chest without asking permission.
"Holy...
That voice..."
This was the leading actress of The Phantom of the Opera.
One of the greatest productions in the West End.
One of the greatest musicals in the world.
Yet the Phantom was not satisfied.
He wanted to raise her even higher.
He came to bring Christine into his world.
*"I am your Angel of Music.
Come to me, Angel of Music..."*
A heavenly voice beckoned another heavenly voice.
*"The voice that calls to me
And speaks my name...
And do I dream again?"*
Christine followed.
Her voice trembling.
"She's like me."
Yu Myeong found himself identifying with her.
He too had heard his name called.
He too had dreamed again because of Miho.
*"Those who have seen your face
Draw back in fear...
I am your mask."*
"It is me they hear."
Today he had become the mask.
Miho had become the performance beneath it.
*"Your spirit and my voice
In one combined..."*
*"My spirit and your voice
In one combined..."*
*"The Phantom of the Opera is there—
Inside your mind."*
They too had become one.
Just as they had during the street performance.
"Sing, my Angel of Music."
La—
Lala—
The Phantom, once an Angel of Music himself, guided Christine toward becoming one as well.
And then her voice evolved.
The already beautiful soprano transformed.
It no longer merely struck the heart.
It ravaged it.
"Sing, Angel..."
La—
Lala—
La———
Under his guidance she crossed another boundary.
"Sing for me!"
La————————
The explosive high note erupted.
At the same moment, a sharp thrill shot through Yu Myeong's chest.
Gasp—
Haa—
Only then did he realize he had forgotten to breathe.
When he saw the near miraculous stage machinery of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, where a car carrying four people actually flew across the stage, he stared with wide eyes and craned his neck trying to figure out where the crane mechanism was hidden.
When he watched We Will Rock You, built entirely from Queen songs, or Mamma Mia!, built from ABBA's music, he was overwhelmed by the experience of hearing extraordinary songs performed with heavenly voices.
Nor was that all.
He wandered through Soho, absorbing the raw artistic passion of unknown young artists in galleries.
He watched plays at Shakespeare's Globe Theatre, where Shakespeare's works had once actually been performed.
He napped in Hyde Park.
Occasionally, sharp eyed Korean tourists recognized actor Yu Myeong despite his attempts to remain inconspicuous.
Whenever that happened, he happily signed autographs.
And above all—
There were Miho's performances.
They never performed twice in the same place.
After the first performance in Trafalgar Square, several people had returned day after day, wandering the plaza in a daze, hoping to see it again.
As for being recorded—
That turned out not to matter.
Anyone watching Miho's performance became part of the world she created.
A prop within the scene.
No one retained enough awareness to remain an outside observer holding a camera.
Watching Miho perform Shakespeare's characters—
No.
Watching her perform characters from works she herself had written—
Through interpretations Yu Myeong had never imagined and acting that bordered on the miraculous, he learned an enormous amount.
And so, after ten days in London, Yu Myeong departed for his next destination.
Verona.
After arriving at Venice Airport and making his way to the train station, Yu Myeong immediately ignored one of Italy's most famous tourist destinations.
The city of water could wait.
He boarded a bus instead.
His destination lay one hour away.
Verona.
Stepping out at the small station, he was greeted by sunlight so brilliant it seemed to belong to another world entirely compared to England.
Population: 250,000.
A city small enough that its major landmarks could be covered by bicycle in an hour or on foot in two.
Yet today it overflowed with people.
The outdoor opera venue capable of holding twenty thousand spectators was packed with opera enthusiasts from around the globe and local lovers of the arts.
Hotels throughout the city were completely booked.
Fortunately, Yu Myeong had managed to reserve a small hotel overlooking the Adige River that curved around Verona.
With a compass resting on his palm, he started walking.
"Buon giorno."
"Buon giorno."
As he walked with a backpack on his shoulders and a suitcase rolling behind him, strangers smiled and greeted him.
Upon reaching a straight road leading toward the city center, he finally pocketed the compass and bought a gelato.
Crunch.
The moment he bit into it, the concentrated essence of fruit exploded across his tongue.
Perhaps the rumors were true.
Perhaps once you tasted Italian gelato, ordinary ice cream could never satisfy you again.
Twenty minutes later he arrived at a broad open square.
A lush green park stretched across one side.
And beside it stood—
Arena di Verona.
Yu Myeong fell silent.
The Arena.
A Roman amphitheater.
A structure built before the Common Era.
Miho might be a thousand years old, but this human creation was more than twice her age.
And yet it still stood.
Beautiful.
Perfectly integrated into the heart of the city.
The history of theater.
The history of performance.
The desire to watch.
The desire to be seen.
The hunger for stories.
Those things had existed within humanity two thousand five hundred years ago just as surely as they did now.
Modern people performing centuries old stories inside theaters built by ancient people.
Wasn't this, too, a way of connecting human history?
After gazing up at the amphitheater for a while, Yu Myeong resumed walking.
Through crowded streets.
Across a market.
Past another ancient gate.
Then suddenly—
The view opened.
"Ah..."
A river.
The sight stole his breath.
The river curved gently around the city.
Low hills rose in the distance.
Strangely shaped trees stretched upward like elongated triangles, creating an almost unreal beauty.
Red rooftops.
Church spires.
A monastery perched on a hill.
And through it all flowed the beautiful Adige River, embracing everything humanity had built.
At the Arena he had witnessed the harmony of human history.
Here—
He witnessed the harmony between humanity and the divine.
The trip from the Arena to his hotel should have taken an hour.
Twice he stopped, completely captivated.
Nearly ninety minutes passed before he finally arrived.
He dumped his luggage inside and hurried back out.
His destination:
A small park beside the Arena.
"What are you going to perform today? Since we're in Verona, shouldn't it be Romeo and Juliet?"
{No.}
Miho's eyes sparkled.
{In Shakespeare's country, I performed Shakespeare.
In the land of gods, I should perform a god.}
A god.
The God of Acting spoke those curious words.
And began another performance.
"Greetings, everyone."
Today's performance would be drawn from Greek mythology.
The Judgment of Paris.
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