Disclaimer: I disclaim it!
A/N: I used elements from both the original book by Gaston Leroux and also Susan Kay's Phantom. Be warned that I twisted the facts a little to fit my story. It may also occasionally be historically inaccurate. It is set after Erik left Persia and came back to Paris.
Chapter One – The Mysterious Tenant
It was already very late in the night when I sat down on the old armchair near the fireplace, placed my elbow upon the armrest and rested the side of my head on my closed fist. It was in this position that I waited for the arrival of my new tenant, who, true to Monsieur Jules Bernard's word, was indeed keeping ungodly hours. Heavens, it was nearing midnight, and still he had not come yet!
As I stared at the fire, my thoughts inevitably turned to the rather curious circumstances surrounding the mysterious new gentleman tenant. M. Bernard seemed curiously anxious for me to accept his employer as a tenant in my apartments, to the point of offering me a thousand francs a month! I regarded this offer warily, guessing that there must be a catch— a reason why he offered so much money even though the rooms I was offering were certainly not first class. Instead of relying on guesses, I proceeded to ask M. Bernard bluntly the reason behind the overly generous sum of money he was offering me.
By now, I had already memorized M. Bernard's exact words after replaying them over and over again in my mind. I remember that M. Bernard had stayed silent for a moment, evidently deciding if I could be taken into confidence.
"It would be wrong not to tell you the truth, Madame Bardot." He spoke finally, and then paused, as if choosing his words carefully, "My employer does not generally get along with most people. Or rather, people do not get along with him... Time and again, he has been asked by the proprietors of his previous apartments to leave. He has been forced to change residences four times already."
I must have looked alarmed because he quickly added, "But I assure you, he is a good person! A good person, Madame! He's very generous and he doesn't cause any trouble. He's something of a recluse, actually. Only, people don't understand him because he is…"
"… Eccentric?" I suggested helpfully.
"I was going to say 'different' but yes, you are also correct to say that." replied M. Bernard, who now looked a little agitated, "You do not accept?"
"Well, no. I mean, yes. I mean I accept." I stammered, a little flustered for I was too easily flustered, "I suppose I can deal with eccentric. As long as he's not too eccentric…?" I said vaguely.
"What do you mean by too eccentric?" said M. Bernard nervously.
"You know… Insane, deranged, disturbed, mentally ill…?" I suggested.
"No, no! Nothing like that!" replied M. Bernard, sounding just a little unconfident.
"Very well then, I have no further complaints…" I said with a smile that, I hoped, looked convincing enough.
M. Bernard released a sigh of relief. It was as if he were holding his breath until the moment that I finally gave my answer.
"Thank you, Madame." he said with undisguised relief.
"When will he be moving in?"
"Tonight, if it is possible. I shall bring in his belongings presently, if it is alright with you."
"Certainly," I said, a little surprised at the suddenness, "I shall show you up to his rooms."
I called the houseboy, and he and M. Bernard completed the task swiftly for the mysterious tenant surprisingly had only a few belongings. M. Bernard thanked me again and warned me that his employer would probably come late at night and apologized ahead for the trouble I would be taking waiting for him. Before M. Bernard left, I remembered to ask him what his employer's name was.
"His name is Erik." replied M. Bernard.
"Erik—?" I echoed, expecting to be given his surname as well.
"He does not give out his surname. Even I do not know his surname." said M. Bernard, in an apologetic tone.
And so, that is how I came to be still awake in the middle of the night waiting for this mysterious man whose surname I did not even know. How could I be sure that the next Erik who turned up on my doorstep was my new 'eccentric' tenant if I did not even know his surname? What if some maniac claimed to be this Erik person, entered my house and then proceeded to pour salt all over his head and dance naked on my roof? I both shuddered and laughed at the strange and disturbing thought. I prepared myself to face the worst the word 'eccentric' had to throw at me.
I suppose I must have dozed off for a minute, for I was startled awake by the sound of a soft knock on the front door. I hurriedly made sure that I looked decent and, taking a candle, opened the door with caution.
"Yes?" I said timidly.
It was already so dark that, with the feeble light of my candle, I could only see the vague figure of an unusually tall man wearing a hooded cloak. My heart jumped at the eerie sight, but I struggled to keep the sudden fear I felt from showing on my face. I was determined to be completely civil to the man, regardless of his appearance. I had always believed that every person had the right to be treated with respect, and I was not about to allow the fear that crept into my heart to let me be rude or unkind. Goodness, I for one should know how absolutely degrading it is to be judged by appearances alone! Once, I had been ushered out of a restaurant simply because the waiter thought that I did not look like I had the money to pay! I admit that I am not very wealthy— but still! The nerve of that— however, I seem to have digressed.
Despite my aversion to judging by appearances, I still could not help but give a quick look to appraise the man. After all, it wouldn't hurt to be careful. I noticed that even though the man's hood hid most of the upper part of his face, the area between his eyes and lips was still visible. My attention was immediately drawn to the white mask he seemed to be wearing. However curious I was, I took care not to stare or appear shocked, for that would certainly have been rude. I was determined to politely look him straight in the eyes, even though I was rather taken aback at seeing how his yellow eyes seemed to glitter in the dark. I was beginning to get nervous with this man.
"Good evening, Mademoiselle." said the man, surprising me with a voice that was unlike any other male voice I had ever heard. It was incredibly soft and deep, and yet amazingly firm, clear and well-modulated. He had only spoken, and yet I felt that he had sung, for there was a certain melody, a certain mellifluous quality to his voice. It was as if his entire being was musical, as if he were making music unconsciously.
"Good evening, sir." I managed to reply calmly, as my nerves were instantly soothed by the unmistakable gentleness in the masked man's voice.
"Is your mistress still awake?" he said with his melodic voice.
For a moment, I was confused. Then it became apparent that he had mistaken me for a maid.
A/N: Like it? Love it? Tell me what you think, but please be nice!
