That idiot Buquet! He'd seen him, seen him without the mask! What's worse, he'd talked about him to the stupid little petit rats of the ballet! That imbecile! Erik had left the meddling bastard alone for the meantime, but no more! Still, Buquet would have to wait- Christine was his all-consuming concern now. There was a gala coming up, where all the great composers would showcase their works. He planned for her to be on that stage no matter what! In Faust by Gounod, a most excellent- and appropriate- venue for her voice, he had decided. For, Erik knew, and he surmised in some space in the back of her mind, Christine knew too, that she had essentially already sold her soul to him.

"Oh, Angel! Have you heard? Carlotta is ill! So ill she will not perform! They've asked me to replace her! Oh, can you believe it?" Christine gasped as she rushed into her next lesson.

"I believe it, child, because I knew your voice would catch their attention eventually." Erik answered. A carefully written note strongly suggested to Carlotta that she would be ill. The paper had been laced with a mild poison, for Erik knew she was no good at acting. He had also suggested to the managers that Christine be the new understudy.

"Oh, there is more! I was frightened I would lose this chance when I heard that Monsieurs Debienne and Poligny were leaving!" she added, breathlessly. They're what? "Then, I met the two new managers and they said it was alright if I sing because Carlotta was ill and wouldn't be able to perform. I don't think they've really worked much in theater before. Still, they seem very nice. They've advanced Sorelli and Jammes to the front of the ballet line and commended Mme Giry and Meg Giry on their marvelous work! They say I seem a dear girl and look forward to seeing me sing." The girl continued to prattle on, but Erik barely heard her. New managers? How could they do this to him? Erik gritted his teeth.

"Really? Well, I have faith that you will astound these new managers. Now, we have work ahead of us in preparation for the gala," he told her. Suddenly Christine's face paled.

"Oh, my! Angel, I have parts in nearly everything! I have a single day!" she gasped.

"That's why we will work on it. You will triumph, my child, I promise you." he reassured her. He ground his teeth. He was furious. Those stupid, incompetent idiots! Retiring? Selling? They couldn't do this to him! Damn it! And that Sorelli and Carlotta and that little half-starved runt Jammes? They'd proven to have no actual taste, talent, or value. He'd have to fix all this. With a sigh, Erik continued Christine's lesson, hearing the confidence creep back into that gorgeous voice, her lovely tones relaxing him. He'd have to go write those new managers. He'd be nice this time.

Firmin Richard and Armand Moncharmin- they were morons! They'd sold Box 5 for the gala! In spite of Mme Giry's protest that "the ghost" would be displeased, they sold his box! Reserved it out for some idiot and his wife! A miscellaneous idiot with a good amount of money! How insulting! If they were going to reserve his box for someone other than him, it should have at least been someone important! This is why I abandoned the human race! Erik thought irritably. Dear Mr ManagersI am sorry to have to trouble you at a time when you must be so very busy, renewing important engagements, signing fresh ones and generally displaying your excellent taste...Of course, when I use these words, I do not mean to apply them to La Carlotta, who sings like a squirt and who ought never to have been allowed to leave the Ambassadors and the Cafe Jacquin; nor to La Sorelli, who owes most of her success to the coach-builders; nor to Little Jammes, who dances like a calf in a field.Also, I cannot end this letter without telling you how disagreeably surprised I have been to hear, on arriving at the Opera, that my box had been sold!I did not protest, first, because I dislike scandal and, second, because I thought that your predecessors, MM Debienne and Poligny, who were always charming to me, had neglected, before leaving, to mention my little fads to you.Your must humble and obedient servantO.G

That was nicer than he was originally going to be. He would have been more threatening, but he didn't know if it was going to be necessary with these two yet. Besides, he had more important things on his mind. Like getting his damned box back!

After a few threatening words, those two dolts had left the box. Disembodied voices did tend to scare people. Erik went to sit in his box, as he always did, to find that Mme Giry had indeed left a program for him on the ledge as he always asked. He'd send for a nice box of English sweets for her, his usual payment. And, since she'd been such a good assistant and stood up to him to these two new impressively stupid managers, he'd make it a larger box.