Note: While this is being posted on I do not consider this really a fanfiction, because it doesn't take any of the exact characters, settings, themes, events, or ideas. While some of the aspects are based on those in The Phantom of the Opera, and obviously, the character of the Phantom is based on the Phantom in The Phantom of the Opera, I did not take anything else. It's sort of like Gankutsuo and The Count of Monte Cristo.
Disclaimer: Some of the ideas, themes, and one of the characters are inspired by those of The Phantom of the Opera.
Chapter One:
The Phantom of the Opera
The steady creak of coach wheels bored into Lolita's ears, and she could not sleep. The passing houses all looked so ornate, so fanciful, and so… similar. They all had those delicately sloped roofs, those gilded doors and windows, those carefully constructed walls and foreboding fences… How could her relatives lived in a house like that and left her family to suffer? How could she now be setting off to live in this environment?
Trying to force out the incessant squeaking, Lolita shut her eyes, messaging her temple in the attempt to relax. How had this all happened? It must have started long ago. When Mother married father. Yes, that was it. Mother was from a well to do family. They hadn't liked father, who was penniless and not much to look at. Lolita grimaced. She had always hated the world's annoying focus on beauty. What did that matter? She didn't think this because she was ugly — she was frequently bothered by men's comments confirming the contrary — but because it was so ridiculous. Still, that wasn't the point. Mother was estranged from her wealthy family. Mother had given birth to four sons and finally one daughter — Lolita. Mother had fallen ill and died, and then her parents did the same. Lolita snorted. Irony ruled her life. At any rate, Mother's parents had left their world famous opera house and business to their favorite heir who was, much to everyone's surprise, Lolita. "She was the most polite and pretty in that hell house." Lolita gagged, recalling that statement.
She lay down, trying to find comfort in the steady rocking of the coach. She supposed she was old enough to work; She was eighteen, a legal adult. But why, why on earth did she have to live in that opera house, and direct those countless shows? The people promised other officials would do all the work, and she just had to watch over everything, but it still worried her. She did not enjoy being called "Madam" and she liked even less that she had been forced to change her surname to that of her grandparents. So what if they thought her father was scum? Did that make his surname scum, too? Ridiculous.
Still, one thing above all bothered Lolita about this was the rumor. Everyone knew it, but they only spoke of it in dimly lit rooms at night, in hushed tones so no one but the one they intended could hear them. "The Phantom of the Opera." That was his name. Some called him a ghost, others called him a mischievous lecher, while still others said he was many people. However, Lolita cared not what her was so much as what he did. Strange, unexplained threats and letters had often bothered her grandparents, or so she heard. Horrible "accidents" that no one could explain… And worst, the rumors of people — mainly girls — going missing for days only to show up with no memory of the whole incident. Lolita hugged her knees. If anyone tried to pull something on her, she'd give them a good strong kick in the crotch and see if they ever tried again.
The coach came to a shuddering halt. Lolita peered her head out the window. The stars shown in pinpoints across the deep blue blanket of the sky. They were reflected in Lolita's green orbs, making them seem all the bigger and darker. She smiled lovingly. At least now, from her home in the opera house, she would get a good view of that lovely night sky. In the city slums — her former neighborhood — they were always shrouded by disgusting clouds of smog.
"Madam, whilst thou be so kind as to allow me to help thou from thy carriage?" The blatantly formal voice of her coach driver wormed its way into Lolita's ear. She shuddered. It was going to take a while to get used to this painful thing called manners.
"Yes. Thank you," she mumbled, awkwardly stepping down as the coach driver guided her down by putting a hand on her elbow. She knew that this is what he was supposed to do, but she felt completely violated. She did not wait to be assisted to the opera building, but blundered forward on her own.
What a majestic sight it made. The opera house rose into the sky, each wall masterfully carved in the style of ancient art. This was a very old building, and Lolita knew it had been redone many times. She was unable to hold back the sense of awe that overwhelmed her as she pushed open the huge door.
It creaked ominously, and was so heavy she could only open it enough to get her slight frame through before it slammed shut. Before her was a huge, empty room with stairs going up in all different directions. Lolita shivered. It was warmer in here than outside, and the flickering candles (for effect, Lolita assumed, for even in the slums, she had electricity) and the chandelier provided more light than the moon, but even so, Lolita could not force down the creeping feeling that no replaced her awe.
"Ah… Is there anyone here?" she called, her voice sounding annoyingly girlish and vulnerable. It was enough she looked like that — she did not want to sound that way, also. There was no answer. Lolita turned back, hoping that perhaps the coach driver would enter and show her the way. Still, no one came through the doors. She sighed, and, on her own, began to walk.
The candles' light stretched her shadow behind her, and left strange dancing light on the walls. Lolita looked at her feet to avoid the sight. It bothered her, those flickering shadows and flames. She just stared at her feet and the red carpet. She hopped up the stairs as she came to them — she had taken the central path. She just walked, and as she went, she became accustomed to the sound of her feet as they went, a light pat-pat-pat. Lolita paused a moment. What was that heavier noise? Not her own feet, but a deeper, harder tak-tak-tak sound. It stopped with her. Lolita frowned, and began to walk. Her feet lightly patted, but there was again the heavy sound. She stopped. It stopped.
"Who's there?" Lolita asked, spinning around. There was no one. She grimaced. "Whoever you are, you may like to know that I have decided I loathe you." Anyone who hid in shadows and scared the living daylights out of her was not a being she would like, be they human or phantom or anything. She sighed, and continued forward, only to stop suddenly. Before her was another set of doors. She blinked, turning her head to one side. She had been going up stairs for a while now, so why there huge doors, so high up? Shrugging to herself, Lolita gripped the handle and pulled it open. She gasped, stepping forward through the doorway.
She was standing in one of the highest boxes in the opera house. Before her were two seats, and below her… Below her was a huge room full of rows and rows of seats, positioned before a stage. So this was where operas were held. A smile grew on her face as she went the edge of the box. The view was breath taking, and this was when there weren't people filling those rows, or performing on the stage. Perhaps… Perhaps Lolita would enjoy this new life.
"Like the view, Madam?" A deep voice derailed Lolita's train of thought and made her heart skip a beat. She spun around, dark hair flying. There, sitting in one of the seats, was a tall, elegantly dressed young man. He wore a black suit and a long cape, which sat regally over his broad shoulders. His hair was smooth and well arranged, pulled into a ponytail. His face, however, was what caught her eye the most. One half, the half that she could see, was quite handsome. A dark eye shone out, observing her every move. The other half, however, was concealed behind a white mask, the same color as the gloves he wore.
"Who are you?" Lolita asked stiffly, her body rigid. The man grinned with the half of his mouth that was visible. He rose, striding towards her and pausing about a foot away. From nowhere, he pulled out a blood red rose. Taking her hand in his, he pulled it up and placed the rose in it, then let her go.
"I am a person who your grandparents knew, Madam, or may I call you Lolita?" he said, a villainous shine in his eyes. Lolita looked down at the rose. It was perfect, not a single petal out of place. The thorns had even been cut off.
"Where did you find this?" Lolita asked, waving the rose unceremoniously in the man's face. He snorted, pushing it away. The grin he had been wearing had now faded to a slightly vexed look.
"I would appreciate it if Madam would answer my question before posing one of her own," the man said coldly. His voice was like ice, and it cut into Lolita's conscious. It was so quietly vicious that Lolita blurted out an answer immediately.
"Y-You may call me Lolita if you tell me where you got this and who you really are," she said quickly. The man stared a moment and then chuckled. He grinned once again.
"A compromise, then. I got that flower from a garden of mine, which is hidden somewhere in this opera house, if you ever wish to find it. As for who I am, I have many names, it would seem," he said, and quite abruptly, he leapt up, his feet shooting him into the air and over Lolita's head. She clenched her fists, nearly screaming. Was he jumping off the box's edge? But no, he landed on the rail, cloak swirling about him dramatically.
"The most common name of mine, however, is…" He paused, crouching now and leaning in so that he was whispering into Lolita's ear. "…The Phantom of the Opera." With this, he stood, a broad grin on his face. He leaned back and dropped backwards over the edge of the rail.
"Ah!" Lolita shrieked, leaning down and trying to grab him as he swirled in shadow to the ground. A voice boomed out around her.
"I'll see you soon, Lolita." It was he. It was the one everybody spoke of in hushed whispers. It was the bloody Phantom of the Opera! Lolita's knees shook, and she collapsed to the ground. Everything around her was fuzzy, and then it fell into shadow.
Sorry it was so very short, but my beginnings tend to be. Please review and read the next chapter, which I hope to have up very soon.
—SilverSaki