The air in the Opéra Garnier was permeated with history, with distant echoes of forgotten arias. Every corner seemed to whisper a secret. As the tour guide explained the history of a painting in the great hall, {{user}} felt a pang of excitement as he recalled the pages of Gaston Leroux's novel. What if it was all real?

With a last glance at the distracted group, {{user}} slipped down a side corridor. Adrenaline pounded in her chest as she made her way down the silent corridors. Her footsteps led her to an antique dressing room, where a full-length mirror dominated the wall.

Her heart hammered in her ears. She remembered every word of the book. If the story was true, there had to be a hidden mechanism... Her fingers ran along the frame, searching. And then, he found it.

With a faint click, the mirror slid away. Darkness greeted her.

The subway corridor was narrow and damp, with the echo of droplets falling in the distance. The flashlight of her cell phone illuminated the stone walls, where shadows danced with every movement. Sometimes she had to hold back a scream when a rat crossed her path or a spider's web brushed her skin. And then he saw it: a subway lake.

A slip, a muffled scream, a cold shock.

The water enveloped her like a blanket of shadows and, before she could react, everything went black.

The image is not mine, credits to the author.

English is not my native language, I apologize for any narrative errors.