Le Domaine du Fantôme de l'Opéra

The waters seven stories below the Opera Populaire are not as dirty as is often assumed. The common belief is that the lake leading up to the Ghost's lair is disgustingly filthy, when in reality, it is quite clean. However, this glassy lake never reaches the temperature of seventy degrees Fahrenheit. But describing only the lake excludes a large part of this account.

Upon reaching the last cellar, a worn-down dock greets anyone brave enough to be there in the first place. A boat, rusted and grim, is a symbol letting onlookers (of which there are sure to be few) know of the ghost's whereabouts. Contrary to the informative flag at Buckingham Palace in England, the rustic, rotting raft will only be present if the Ghost is not. Assuming the boat is present, it is approximately a twenty minutes' journey to the portcullis; congratulations to all who make it this far, for the lake is heavily booby-trapped, the worst of which being the siren, who many believe to be the Ghost himself.

The wrought-iron portcullis supports tangles of moss and is usually dripping wet, and does not present a warm welcome. That aspect is the Ghost's intention, and he pulls it off well – the lair's entrance resembles a castle. Not a normal castle, but a castle that has been overgrown for decades and proudly bears many "No Trespassing" signs. As on abandoned castles, the signs generally have some meaning. Another common false assumption is that, since he is a ghost, the Ghost is lacking in funds. The ill-concealed "No Trespassing" messages are not without reason; the interior of the Ghost's dwelling is lavish with ornate treasures and priceless artifacts. If one detail were added, it would be entirely possible to see the Ghost's personality through his home alone.

Decorative rugs from Persia grace the floor, giving the rooms a vibrant texture, foreign and breathtaking. Often the room's beauty is not realized because there is no light source from the outside world. Flickering candles provide an artificial, eerie glow. The boat moors alongside an ornate foyer and one door is visible.

Opening this door reveals a large, spacious room. Once lit, candles show the library. The chamber is cavernous. Dark mahogany wood shelving lines the walls, leaving no inch of space uncovered. A deep, blood-red carpet covers every bit of floor, and black upholstered furniture is ideally placed upon it. Old but beautiful and well-intact, leather-bound volumes fill the shelves from floor to ceiling. Winding, wrought-iron staircases spiral upward to the tallest shelves; sometimes they connect to form small balconies nestled within thousands of volumes.

There is one more visible door, stress on the word visible. This mahogany door leads to a bedroom – not the Ghost's bedroom, oh no! The Ghost does not allow himself such luxury. The final room the Ghost leaves for the plain eye is the most splendidly decorated one of all, which means a lot since one has just exited the library. A large bed, three posters – it's almost a heart shape, but without the crease at the top. At the one poster end, the golden post is carved into a delicate swan. Draped in a red velvet coverlet over black satin sheets, the bed is beautiful, almost seductive. Had we not all been quite familiar with the Ghost's dealings with a certain chorus girl, this particular feature would perplex. Alas, it is not so.

The magnificent, grandiloquent bedroom is adorned with expensive, foreign carpets, and, like in the library, all furniture is deep mahogany. There is a bedside table, a desk complete with quill, inkbottle, and paper, a dresser, and a vanity with a shining mirror. Actually, the Ghost seems to be very fond of mirrors for someone who loathes his own reflection.

If mirrors are to be discussed, we must mention the myriad of passageways the Ghost has constructed to benefit his needs, few as they may be. The perhaps most famous one leads to a particular mirror in Mademoiselle Daaé's dressing room. The Ghost can see through, but to anyone in the room, this fantastic accessory is just that: an accessory.

Many passages lead to dead-ends in the darkest parts of the Opéra cellars, deliberately confusing those who dare to trespass. Another leads to a tall, foreboding wrought-iron gate on le Rue Scribe. This exit (or entrance, should one choose to perceive it so) is the Ghost's only contact with the outside world; otherwise he confines himself to his architectural playground deep below the Opéra and will remain there for all eternity.