Ludwig and Clara sat side by side in the grand opera house of Yharnam, listening to the beautiful strains of the soprano as she sang her aria. The theater was filled with the city's elite: officials, business leaders, and of course, members of the church, all dressed in their finest clothes.

Ludwig and Clara dressed the part, but their unease was visible, though it didn't last long. As they watched the performance, Ludwig felt a sense of peace wash over him. He had been busy with his work lately, but he had promised Clara that he would make time for this evening out. And he was determined to keep that promise.

He was a man of many years and simple refinement. A surgeon by trade, he had forearms like rope, and hands so dexterous and manicured you'd rarely see him without a nail file. He had long strong legs too, and furrows in his brow that carried wrinkles like pocket change. But there was an alertness in his crystal blue eyes. He was intentional and measured, almost militaristic.

Inside the opera house, the air was thick with the scent of perfume and the sound of rustling fabrics. Ludwig and Clara had arrived early to ensure that they had the best seats in the house, and they were now settled comfortably in their plush chairs, waiting for the performance to begin.

Ludwig glanced around the room, admiring the opulent decor and the elegant attire of the other guests. He was glad that he and Clara had been able to afford such a luxurious evening out.

Clara in her pearly white adornments was much quicker to mask her unease. A soft-faced girl, she didn't easily betray her age. Her brunette hair was thick and rich, and her eyes were quite alluring. She was however, a prankster, she could play any man like a fiddle, and being betrothed to one so rigid, she got her delights in breaking his concentration. The flick of her cigarette would attract eyes to the lit bud, meanwhile you'd miss she'd snuck your lighter away to light it. Only when she wanted you to would you notice it was yours, and by then the light was back in your pocket.

The lights dimmed, and as they did, the story unfolded.

Two adult siblings, a brother and a sister, live in a small town plagued by disease. The townspeople are desperate for a cure, and they turn to an angel who promised to bring them salvation. The angel is a beautiful and powerful being, with wings that shine like gold and a voice that can move mountains. The actor was gilded and sang in the most melodic baritone. The Italian melodies evoked the angel's misery at seeing the people suffer.

And so help them he did. At first, the angel seems to keep its promise. It heals the sick and brings hope to the people. They celebrated and gave many blessings. But as time passes, the siblings start to notice that something is off. The angel came to expect a gift before it healed. By that point thought, the people were so enamored by the liaison of the gods, they emptied their houses. Ludwig watched as the lead soprano sang her heart out, her voice ringing out through the opera house with a haunting beauty. He was mesmerized by her performance, and he could see that Clara was equally captivated.

Steadily the actors shifted towards the center stage where behind the prop they emerged with chains. As the lighting became sanguine, the leads cowered to stage left and the musical number ended with the darkening of the stage.

His mother and father loved music, and always played it, but were too poor to afford such outings like they were one now, and he knew that tonight's performance was going to be a particularly special one.

As the first act came to a close, the audience erupted into thunderous applause, and Ludwig and Clara joined in, their hands stinging from the force of their clapping. Ludwig couldn't wait for the next act to begin, eager to see how the story would unfold.

As the lights came up and the intermission began, Ludwig forgot all about his unease earlier.

Ludwig shifted in his seat, his heavy frame sinking into the plush cushion of the opera house chair. He felt his eyelids drooping, despite the rousing performance on stage and the thunderous applause of the crowd.

"If only tea could keep me awake like it used to," he muttered under his breath, his words drowned out by the soaring tenor of the lead singer.

His wife, Clara, turned to him with a teasing smile on her lips. "If only we were young enough to still think this kind of place was stupid," she quipped.

Ludwig let out a small chuckle, but his mind was elsewhere. Distracted. He couldn't help but think about his children, Lucas and Emma, who were at home with the nanny. They had been having nightmares lately, and Ludwig knew that Clara was worried about them.

"What about Lucas and Emma?" Ludwig asked, his gaze darting around the room. "You know they can't get themselves to bed. Don't you think we could leave the event a little early? I'm pretty tired anyways."

Clara's expression softened, and she placed a hand on Ludwig's arm. "Mrs. Ford is taking excellent care of them. You promised you'd give an honest effort to get out. We can leave after the second act. I will however call if it'll settle your nerves."

Ludwig nodded, relieved. He was grateful to have Clara by his side, to help him navigate the pressures life, both professional and personal. But sometimes, he felt like he was drowning in his responsibilities, and he longed for the simpler days of his youth.

"I need to use the restroom, would you like any water love?"

"I'll need to go as well, but yes please fetch me some, and don't slip any brandy in it like last weekend, I swear I never used to be so sensitive." Clara softly spoke so as to ensure only he heard their little indignity.

And as he glanced around the room, he followed the crowd out and pushed his way to the men's room.

He washed his hands, then glanced down. They were fidgeting. Despite his years of experience, he still felt a twinge of anxiety whenever he attended events like this, surrounded by the wealthy and influential. He knew that he didn't quite fit in, no matter how well he dressed or how eloquently he spoke.

He noticed a man standing by the door. The man was tall and thin, with sharp features and a neatly trimmed goatee. He wore a fine suit and carried himself with an air of confidence.

"Excuse me," the man said, turning to Ludwig. "Are you Doctor Carroway?"

Ludwig nodded warily. "Yes, that's me. And who might you be?"

The man extended a hand. "My name is Smith. I've heard great things about your work in the community. You've done a lot for the people of Yharnam."

Ludwig's guard lowered slightly at the man's words. He had heard of Mr. Smith before; he was a wealthy philanthropist who had funded many of the community projects in Yharnam, albeit largely on behalf of the church. "Thank you, Mr. Smith. I'm glad to hear my work is appreciated."

Smith smiled. "More than appreciated, Doctor. You're making a real difference in people's lives. I just wanted to personally thank you for all that you do."

Ludwig was taken aback by the man's sincerity. He had grown used to the cynicism and mistrust of the people of Yharnam, but here was someone who genuinely seemed to care.

"Thank you, Mr. Smith," Ludwig said, feeling a warmth spread through his chest. "It's nice to know that my work is making a difference."

Smith nodded. "I'll let you get back to the opera. Just wanted to say hello and let you know how much your work is appreciated."

Ludwig watched as Smith walked away, feeling a newfound sense of purpose and satisfaction. Perhaps he was making a difference after all.

Before he made it to the door however, he heard Mr. Smith say "You know, the town is getting worse, doctor," his face creasing with concern. "I hope you'll be able to keep up."

Ludwig excused himself and headed to the bathroom, feeling a sense of relief as he entered the quieter hallway. Mr. Smith nodded gravely before turning and leaving the bathroom, this time ahead of Ludwig, leaving him to ponder the weight of his words.

***

Back at the house, the children, Lucas and Emma, were wide awake and huddled together in their shared room. Lucas was the older of the two, with messy brown hair and deep-set hazel eyes. He had a perpetually worried expression on his face, and his hands were constantly fidgeting with whatever was within reach. Emma, on the other hand, had curly blonde hair and piercing blue eyes that sparkled in the light. She had a mischievous smile that often got her in trouble with their parents, but she was fiercely protective of her older brother.

"Did you hear that, Lucas?" Emma whispered, her eyes darting around the dark room.

"Hear what?" Lucas asked, his voice shaky.

"That noise, like someone's walking outside," Emma replied, her eyes widening with fear.

Lucas strained his ears, but all he could hear was the sound of his own heartbeat. "I don't hear anything, Emma. You're just scaring yourself again."

Emma pouted. "I'm not scared, I just don't like it when things are too quiet. What if there's a monster outside?"

Lucas rolled his eyes. "There's no such thing as monsters, Emma. It's just your imagination."

As if on cue, there was a sudden loud banging on their bedroom door, causing both children to jump and cling to each other in terror.

AAAHHHHH... hahaha...

The chuckle of Mrs. Ford came. An old gal who's back arched like summer hills, she was a sweet lady with a face that didn't match her demeanor. One look at her would have you thinking she's a witch, but the only craft she took to was baking.

A widow of 4 years, she'd gotten quite close to the Carroway family, especially to the young master and lady of the home, rambunctious as they were, they provided some life to her otherwise dull routine.

"Now what position do you think you've placed me in, I promised your parents you'd be in bed so you're ready for school and learning, and not be menaces to them both tomorrow. What oh what can I do?"

Even crones could have warm smiles the kids supposed.

"We need a story of course, something nice, so the wolf-people can't get us" piped up Emma, her hair in an obvious mess from hiding under covers.

"Wolf-people you say, I sure hope they don't shed or track mud in the house, I'd have to give em' a good wallop if they dirtied these beautiful floors any worse than you kids have done already."

This made Lucas and Emma laugh even harder. Such language was never permitted by father, and so to hear it felt taboo and like their own personal secret with Mrs. Ford.

"Emma, stop being such a baby, wolf-people aren't real and they won't eat you anyways, you stink TOOO much" Lucas was surely testing the limits of Mrs. Fords leniency.

"They are real and you can't tell me that, I showered today you arse" Emma retorted.

As quick as it was said, an ear-piercing whistle emerged from Mrs. Ford. It interrupted the escalation that had ensued. With their attention, Mrs. Ford said stern yet soft "now now, it's not right fair to tell your sister such things aren't real, I mean we don't know what's in the woods at the edge of the property, that's why your father doesn't let you out at night even with a torch. And Emma, you're quite aware that language isn't fit for donkeys wrapped in linens and donning wigs, much less a fine young lady such as yourself. Now, I expect that you two can investigate all kinds of things when it's light, but for tonight, I quite like the idea of a warm nice story. Shall we?"

They nodded in agreement.

"But first, you both owe one another an apology. And if you don't do it, I'll make you hug for 3 hours."

This seemed like a blatant lie, but such things had been forced upon them before, so they weren't to eager to find out how serious Mrs. Ford was.

***

As the lights dimmed once again and the curtains rose for the second act, Ludwig, freshly shaken up by his exchange with Mr. Smith pushed his worries aside and returned to Clara with water for them both. He just had to forget about what was said, and fall back into the rhythm of the opera. For a few brief hours, he could forget his troubles and lose himself in the beauty of the music and the drama unfolding on stage.

The story continued. The siblings try to warn the townspeople about the nature of the angel, but they are dismissed as troublemakers. When the angel turns their own parents against them, the siblings realize that they must flee the town before it's too late.

After the siblings had left the town in search of safety and a means to help the people, the siblings face many challenges. They meet an elder of the village healer who'd retired away in search of respite. They plead with the old man to teach them how to heal the villagers. Sadly, he only recalls the tale of a wanderer who poisoned the well and sold snake oil to the people to heal them. Then, he forced them to confront their own weaknesses for running. He tells them they can kill the 'angel' because God wouldn't let such a wicked creature live with immortality. They return with great optimism, only to find that the people are no longer themselves, or even dead. Instead, they are statues, gargoyles, who's final moments were each captured. Some wore faces of terror; some slept, some were shattered, and some where not fully frozen. One such individual was their father. He had hung on for dear life waiting to be with his family. His last words uttered were "I love...." and then silence.

The siblings thensurmount an attack on the angel however, they succumb as well. Eventually they pass in embrace alongside the rest of the village.

The only one left singing is the angel, who is somber in solitude, and reclines itself into a cabin, doffing it's hood to reveal the old healer. On his desk stand small versions of the siblings, captured in detail but with red marks lining down from their eyes.

"What the fuck was that?" Ludwig's thoughts were becoming verbal. There was an energy that was palpable in the theater, and it didn't wait for Ludwig to figure out the meaning of the piece. The theater erupted in applause.

"I don't know hun, but we can get home to the kids. I imagine they're probably up still waiting for us to get back."

"You're right, let's call a cab."

But as they stood, the applause continued, people not shifting from their positions, as though so completely enraptured by the opera that they couldn't exit the moment they all had been captured by.

The only other who failed to continue the applause was Mr. Smith.