Three years had passed since the mysterious incident at the Opera Populaire. Most of the Opera House had perished in the fire, but a year after that fateful night, an anonymous patron donated a large sum of money that paid for the entire reconstruction of the once great building. Most of the original workers had left under great paranoia of the return of the Phantom of the Opera, and they were all replaced by eager new students who wanted to be famous. Superstitions faded away, and the Opera Ghost became less than a myth. Other than the lack of fear of what might lurk in the shadows, business was thriving and every seat was sold out each performance.
Among all of the non-believers, however, there was still one young lady who remained faithful to the idea of a masked genius living deep within the catacombs of the Opera House. Her name was Rachel Maria Paradies, a timid and friendless worker. She was neither Lead Soprano nor a chorus girl; her job was to clean the floors, check the props, and dim the lights when night approached. Everyone considered her worthless, but she would stay confident by imagining what would happen is she was to accidentally forget to secure the ropes. It would be disastrous without her, or at least she liked to believe so.
"Rachel," A young woman called daintily. "Can you go down to 'Christine's' old dressing room?" Rachel's eyebrow quirked up curiously. "These girls say they always feel a draft from that room and they hear music."
"There is." She replied softly as she glanced at the disbelieving faces around her. "The Phantom is still here.
The Phantom is here.
The Phantom, he knows
He's waiting for the right moment
He's waiting to emerge.
The angel sees,
The angel knows.
He speaks to me
He sings to me
He is not pleased with you ignorant fools
Three years too long
He has repressed his song
The Opera has withered
The music has died
But the Phantom is waiting somewhere inside."
Madam Giry stepped in at that moment and took Rachel by her elbow. "Girls, continue practicing and speak no more of the alleged Phantom." She tugged the confused girl into a dark hallway and glowered at her scornfully. "Those who speak of what they know, find too late that prudent silence is wise…"
"But Madame—!"
"I have spoken. Continue with your work."
Rachel turned to look down the corridor and noticed that it was one she had never seen before. Did Madame Giry lead her there purposely? It looked too ominous to lead anywhere like a dressing room. She took one step deeper into it, and she swore she heard the subtle sound of a cloak rustling. Rachel continued further until she found it too dark to continue, but curiosity ruled her at this point so she ran her hand along the wall to keep herself steady. Every step that led her deeper into this unknown realm of darkness felt like she was being led to the infamous man of the shadows.
"Rachel..." A tender voice sang somewhere in front of her. "Rachel…"
"Yes, I'm here
Lead me, I'll follow
I'll leave the light behind
I'm tired of being blind
Please take me to that place
That dungeon, the prison of your soul
Help me to see
Help me to hear
Your music sets me free
You'll rid me of my fear
Help me hear the music of the night."
"Child you know not what you say
This is a line that none should cross
For beyond lies a dark passion that none should posses
Secrets lurk where I dwell
Monsters come alive and are ready to kill
You don't want this fate, my child
None should have to delve into this black abyss
None should suffer the loss of love
So child, you should never cross this point of no return."
Rachel reached her hand out and was relieved to feel his hand taking hers. "But I wish to anyway."
"Rachel?" One of the chorus girls called. "Rachel! Madame Giry said to check the ropes again!"
"Coming." Suddenly, his hand was gone, as was any hope of being able to wander to his world of unimaginable beauty.