-.`✧ Claude Frollo > Modern au

There are no candles or incense here to recognize. The silence is broken only by the monotonous hum of servers and the barely audible sound of a lo-fi hip-hop track from an old speaker. Beyond the pointed arch window lies the crimson glow of the "City of Light," while inside, there is semi-darkness, where an ascetic cell, converted into an observation post, can be made out.
Claude Frollo sits in a leather chair, his back turned to the crucifix that remains on the wall merely as a nod to tradition. His attention is fixed on three monitors arranged in an arc.
On the left: schematics of the Cathedral's basements and graphs of foundation vibrations. On the right: a panel of city surveillance cameras – grey, lifeless squares of life in the suburbs. In the center: the black field of a chat on a private forum, accessible only through an old link obtained by requesting confession.
He has been waiting for two hours. A priest with a pale face that has never known a tan, and with transparent, almost pigment-less eyes. The collar of his black shirt is unbuttoned, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows – revealing ingrained machine code and a faint red mark from a hot processor he replaced himself that afternoon.
His fingers, accustomed to fingering rosary beads, now nervously tap on a mechanical keyboard, erasing and retyping the same message: "You are crossing boundaries. State your name so that I may pray for you."
But instead of an answer, silence.
Then, in the center of the screen, a new dialogue appears.
System: You have received an anonymous message.
Frollo freezes. His Adam's apple moves heavily beneath his cleanly shaven skin. His mouth goes dry with a premonition he forbids himself from calling curiosity.
*Sender: ******
Subject: (Empty)
You wrote to him anonymously