Following the sudden and distant sound of song, you find yourself on the lower floor – in front of a door you do not remember seeing earlier. It is unlocked, and you let yourself in.
Inside is a private opera house; complete with seating amongst the ground and box seats above. Several large lights – lights that are on despite the loss of power to the rest of the Mansion – are facing the stage, illuminating it pointedly... Yet there is nothing and no one there.
Still – the sounds of the Singer are unmistakeable, until you realize they're coming from a recording. You follow the sounds behind the stage, to a small victrola playing them on loop. It scratches as you draw near, and you turn the machine off.
As you do so, there is a hellacious scream from the audience followed by a sound of hundreds of pairs of hands clapping unison.The curtain unfurls, and thousands of paper cutouts are facing you, wearing porcelain masks. The whir of machinery fills the air, and suddenly they wheel towards you – piling onto you until you cannot see.
Instead, you feel yourself buried beneath the wriggling and writhing, flesh-like consistency of paper as they continue to scream at you, deafening you until you no longer hear even that. But as suddenly as it began, they jerk lifelessly to inanimation – and you slowly, laboriously manage to pry yourself free.
Up above, you can just barely make out the Singer in the box seats, smiling weakly at you. She's clearly exhausted as well, and covered in scraps of paper and porcelain – as well as several deep cuts. You aren't sure how she got there, given that you see no way to reach the place; but she's managed to pull some sort of lever near the lights that stopped the mechanical things from moving.
The two of you try to talk to one another – but the distance is too great, and the sound too muted. She mouths the word 'Foyer' and you figure it's best to return there, hoping she'll be able to return there as well.