Prologue
The Persian was sitting in his room reading Le Figaro. The Headline informed that the police is still looking for a man called "Opera Ghost". Ashtad grimaced; he really wished they would catch him because as long as he's alive the poor girl and her husband will be in great danger. He knew this creature for too long. The Phantom doesn't give up so easily. Suddenly he heard hoof beats and horse's snorting, then Ms. Allemand quarreling with somebody. All of sudden everything became awfully quiet. He could hear footsteps approaching his room. The door slammed, opened . He nearly screamed in surprise. The tall man in front of him wore black , soaked cloak and white porcelain mask. The only visible part were his eyes of the color of amber. "You!-" But before he could say anything a bony hand clutched upon his throat. " Hello, Ashtad. Long time no seen my 'friend'.", he said in a cold voice. The Persian struggled to free from his grasp but he was quickly forced to stop as his "guest" tightened his grip. After a while he gave up; the man tilted his head to side as if he was wandering what to do with him now. Finally his grip loosened and Ashtad fell to his knees. Still coughing, he managed to say: "You bastard!... How... dare you... to... come ...here." The man ignored him and walked up to armchair to have a seat. " Erik..." He started. " Now, now, Ashtad, you don't have to make such a fuss out of all of this", Erik said in teasing voice. "You!...". Erik raised gloved hand: "No, you will listen to me now. Don't worry, you won't see me ever again if everything will be going according to plan." The Persian eyed him with angered look. "And what if I refuse"? The Phantom shrugged. "Then I will make sure some 'accident' will happen to you so that you would mark my words". Ashtad gasped ."You would never do that to your one and the only friend." This time Erik looked at him with amused look and then burst out in a cold laughter.
"Are you so sure? Besides... by calling you my ' friend' I gave you too much credit. After all, it was you who betrayed me that night in the opera. And, what's more important, you cared more about losing your pension if they'd find out that I'm still alive". Dagora's surprised expression made him laugh again. "Oh, I have plenty of 'friends' , you know. And the only reason why you are still alive is because you saved my life back then in Persia and for that you have my entire gratitude". After a short pause the Phantom chuckled: "I guess I'm not that heartless at all... Anyway - what I want from you is to post an information in Le Figaro; you will announce that I died because of broken heart. Then I will leave France and you will never ever see me again, old man". He gave him suspicious look: "We won't meet"? Erik shook his head "No." The Persian thought for a while and then replied: "Very well , it will be all done." While he spoke, Erik raised from the spot where he sat and said: "I shall be off then. Do not dare to trick me." With that he left the room.
Ashtad sighed and sat behind his table. As much as he hated the idea to do what this monster ordered, the thought of ridding off of him was very alluring. After a while Ms. Allemand entered the room. Ashtad felt reviled that she was safe and soud. Ms. Allemand answered to his unspoken relief "I'm alright, sir. I didn't dare to stop him after seeing his face... I tore down his mask to see who demand an audience but after what I saw..." She shivered. "Is this monster going to terrorize Paris again"? He didn't answered to her, but murmured to himself: "What are you up to, Erik"? No matter how much he wanted to refuse, he knew he didn't stand a chance with him. He looked at the newspaper he read and said aloud: "Goddamn you , Erik!"
It's been seventeen years since he left Paris. He spent those long, lonely years in England, but he found London too boring and far too loud to him. He used to live in a small room in one of the poorer district. It was a deliberate choice with the purpouse of saving as much money as possible. He found a shabby flat and, with some effort, managed to get himself as a tutor of an insufferable aristocrat girl. Naturally, the little brat got interested in his persona. It took some effort for him to keep his temper in check but at least her father was more reasonable. Although reasonable was too strong word for a person only concerned with public opinion. But for once he was glad for father's attitude, and the earnings were quite good either.
He then stopped his musing when he realised he had nowhere to stay.But where am I supposed to live now, I cannot... And then he remembered something.Of course! The Opera House, they managed to stop the fire... As soon as he thought of the Opera crossed his mind the memories of that night started to flow through his mind. He scowled like some wounded animal and covered his face with slim, gloved hands. Suddenly he heard some female voice. That was what he needed now, a stranger witnessing his misery. He quickly escaped to the shadowed part of the street. And it was when he saw her for the first time since seventeen years. She still looked beautiful. She had long curled dark brown hair and brown eyes, small lips and nose. And then he saw him. He gritted his teeth as he saw Vicomte de Changy.
He felt anger raising inside of him. How could she leave him for that?!She gained profits, that is until marrying Raul, from her performances. But the truth was she would still be a mere choirs worm if he hadn't helped her back then. The only thing she saw in him was a monster... a murderer. She couldn't see past those to see a man behind the mask. She didn't know how tortured his soul was back then, he was ready to do anything for her. Suddenly he grinned as a particular thought crossed his mind. I will make you pay, my dear Christine. And you... you dear Vicomte will know the pain of losing somebody dear to you! His love for her was long gone and was replaced with bitterness and he himself became more withdrawn than before.
He didn't plan to assassinate her, no, it was definitely below his dignity. He quickly walked away, still sticking to shadows of the street.Soon, very soon. But first I have to find out is if the only person who would connect me with Vicomtess disappearance is still alive. He disappeared in one of the streets. Christine stopped talking to Raul. She felt some uneasiness. Definitely, there was someone observing them. And then she saw a tall cloaked figure disappearing in one of the streets. The figure looked very familiar…Could he be... No, he's dead! I saw his body!She suddenly shivered and felt fear rising in her. Somebody snuggled her up. Ah, yes, Raul was here. "Is something wrong? You look scared all of sudden". She looked into his blue eyes. "It's nothing... For a moment I thought I saw him." Raul frowned "Saw who?" She went silent for a while. "The Phantom of the Opera..." The Vicomte hugged her tenderly: "Let's not talk about dead man. Besides, you thought you saw him before only to...". She snapped at him "I know what I..." She stopped. He must have been right that Erik was dead. "But what if it wasn't his body, Raul? If he's still alive, God knows what..." She was quieted by a kiss. "Don't worry, Christine. He's dead." The confidence in his eyes somehow made her believe that what she saw a second ago was a mere illusion.
He headed toward cemetery. After wandering a while, he found the gravestone he was looking for. Yes, the man he spoke with was right. Ashtad died three years ago due to influenza. He smiled beneath his white porcelain mask. Now there was no one who would suspect him. Recently, he also asked about Madam Giry and her daughter, Meg. They were both living in New York. He couldn't imagined better scenario. He left a black rose next to Ashtad's grave. "You were always a pain in the ass, Persian. But your company was better than being lonely, even if you were a mere parody of 'friend'... Now, when you are resting eternally, I can start to plan my revenge." He left the cemetery in hurry. There was no time to waste.