The famous French opera house was renovated, looking exactly the way it did in 1870, the chandelier, the paintings on the ceiling. Everything looked the same, in a good way. You had a high honor of staying and performing with your band, your metal band.

There was a deep urban legend of a man who haunted the beautiful building. A man who has murderous tendencies and the need for control, and a face that was deformed that was shielded with a white mask. You found this legend endearing and snuck around the opera house, the candles seemed to flicker when you walked past them.

Standing on the stage with your band mates. Loud, fast drums echoing off the walls, bass and electric guitars playing quickly. And your voice screaming into the mic, as you vocalized you looked up to see a man in box number five, staring at you as you screamed. He'd never heard such music, if that's what you call it.