Through the snow covered streets that no one dared to venture out, lest something wicked would happen to them. A man dressed in black sauntered through, making not one sound. He looked around him, windows were shut, doors locked, no lights shown through the crack, it seemed to be a deserted town at night, but during the day it was a bustling city. The man was reaching his destination the Opera House in Paris. His haven, his paradise, and more importantly, his prison, that is what the lower levels of the Opera House were to him. When the love of his life left him and his hastily exit where he destroyed his place and left his mask, he snuck down each night to do some repairs and to check on what was going on inside the Opera House.
Upon entering the secret door at the West side of the Opera House, he moves silently down the lower levels to see what more he has to do to clean up and what he has to fix. The mirrors were fixed, the things that were smashed were now gone, moved to a deserted part of the various rooms and levels of the lower rooms. His coffin was gone, and in return he made a bed. He was waiting for someone to see if they remember him, and who will take the place of Christine.