Juti's POV:

A whole new life started for both of us. Erik was no longer waiting for one of us to die, and finally started to relax. He did not have more mental breakdowns in those days, yet he complained about nightmares bothering him if he was willing to sleep at all. I offered him the opportunity to sleep in my bed while I take the couch, but he refused always. It is unacceptable among friends. It did help him that night, but he needs to learn to handle them on his own without clinging to me. Yet he appreciated the idea of my helpfulness and did not take it as an insult any more.

He took all kind of male clothing for me, for every occasion. I received a tailcoat just like his, many jackets, waistcoats, shirts, pants and four pairs of different colored shoes. Erik, thankfully took it to consideration that I was a female, so the male clothes weren't all black. In fact, only my evening attire was completely black and white. He bought me a cute ivory colored waistcoat with leaf pattern, and the coat I loved to wear most was light blue. I felt much better in these clothes than the dresses, yet I loved the female shoes I got, so there were occasions when I wore the light blue sandals with my male outfit.

Spiritually and health wise, I wanted to take care of his well being the most I could. He refused to sleep mostly, claiming he wasn't sleepy, and stating he was very well able to be up for days without sleeping. I knew his insomnia will be hard to cure if it was possible at all, but I always went to sleep at nights. Erik found it a wise move, as he said he did not wish to have two lunatics in one household. Well, his sleeping was problematic still, but I wanted to at least, change his eating habits. Erik was a great cook, and even though he stated he was fine without eating, I asked him to have a few bites with me as I did not like to eat alone. He accepted the terms, and he did eat with me at each course, and I always offered him some of the chocolate he was bringing me for an act of love. He said he did not have much of a sweet tooth himself, but would take one or two pieces of chocolate from the box when I offered them. I wasn't able to decide if he really did not like sweets that much, or he just did not want to take them away from me.

I tried to occupy his mind with positive thoughts, which was, indeed a hard task. Erik warned me his life had turned him to be a "that glass is always half empty" kind of person, but I refused to leave it at that. To me that said glass was always half full, and I stubbornly tried to search the good things in a bad happening – while Erik stubbornly did the opposite. He was surprised it was just as hard to make me feel sad as it was hard to cheer him up.

In some days, my constant hooray optimism started to slowly stick on him. At first he just smiled at my silly jokes and childish remarks, and the way I was actually very easily impressed. It was just my nature. If I saw a more complicated sheet music, a drawing he made earlier, or he played something for me on any kind of instrument, I was cheerful and praised him to no end. I clapped like I was in theater and cheered for him, telling him he was a genius, a talent, and the best in everything. At first it seemed to annoy him a bit, or bother him, but eventually he did not only reply with a quick nod, but a smile and a "Thanks". He started to believe what I told him and I was happy and determined. Way to go!

Physical affection was the other way to treat him. I did not want to bother him, but I would always pet his shoulder one time when I passed him as he was seated, or I would kiss his forehead if he asked for it. He did dare to ask at least. Not often, but sometimes he did, and it made me feel better about my method working.

In an evening I wished to try a new way of physical contact when he arrived home and was in seemingly a bad mood again. When I asked him what the matter was, he shortly informed me about his shoulders and back being in pain.

- It happens. – He moaned.

He sat down in a chair in the drawing room, trying to collect his strength to do something. I stepped behind him and put my hands on his shoulders gently. He did not move. He was getting used to my touch and it did not alarm him that much any more as it did earlier. He was just waiting to find out what I wanted to do. I felt his muscles were all stiff, and I knew it must be indeed painful for him, so I wanted to help him with it. Very carefully, not to hurt him, I started massaging his shoulders first. I was examining his reaction and was prepared to stop anytime if he did not want it, but he did not tell me to stop. Instead he tried to sit as I was able to reach him the easiest. He seemed to enjoy it then, so I was trying to do it a bit harder. He sighed in relief as I was massaging his shoulders, and started to do it on his back as well. The poor man had cramped muscles in his back and it bothered him to no end. Thankfully it did get better as I massaged him. I also caressed his forearm and neck, which made him feel much better. When I finished after loosening all the cramps I could sense, he stretched out with a deep sigh, and turned to kiss me on the forehead. He said nothing, but his eyes showed thankfulness and love.

Erik was, indeed a complicated person. On one side, he was a determined, touchy, a bit of crazy genius, a bit too controlling and bossy, yet in general, wise and smart adult, but on the other side, he was a shy, introvert small boy, yearning for love, he was childish and in some ways, childlikely innocent, he was funny if he wanted to be, and one could literally spread him on bread if he was given a kiss on his forehead. He was easygoing mostly, if someone did not try his patience too much. He did not mind a bit of playful teasing, but if it went through a boundary, he would react with insults towards me, which he did regret almost right away, and fell on his knees in front of me, crying. He liked to receive kisses on his forehead, and would do literally anything for one, and he did like to give them on my forehead as well, firstly a bit hesitantly, as if he was afraid he disgusts me, but after he realized I wasn't disgusted, he gave them more frequently. Another favorite way of touch of his was holding hands. Hetook my hand and wanted to keep it in his twice as big hand as mine. He loved to hold me like that, and sometimes squeezed his fingers on mine as he was afraid I disappear in a blink of an eye. I had to calm him I was there to stay.

As he was not yet open to list things he liked about himself, I did not force it on him, yet I was telling him what I liked about him. I randomly caught his attention about a positive act he had done or a positive trait in his personality, which did attract me. He did not seem to believe me at first, or did belittle the act or trait compared to the bad habits and personality traits he has, but if he did so, I made him stop, kindly, but strictly. He accepted this rule and surprisingly, within time, there were less occasions he would insult himself, and accepted my compliments.

After he got friendlier with his inner spirit, I decided to take a step forward and meet the bigger challenge: his looks. I knew exactly that he hated his face and body, and even though he threw away the masks, he refused to take off the false nose in my presence. Yet, I started listing the physical traits I loved in him.

- I love your hands. – I smiled at him once, when I was looking at his long fingers.

- Umm. – He turned his head to face me and lifted his hands in front of his face just as if he saw them for the first time. – What on Earth do you like about these death's hands?

- You have nice long fingers. – I admitted.

- True. – He agreed hesitantly, but gave me a small smile.

I also loved his eyes. They did not frighten me, I found the glowing eyes in the dark a very cool feature. I envied him for such an ability, and my envy just grew when I found out Erik can see perfectly in the dark. I got to know about it when he took me out of the house to the cellar and he did not take any lamp with him. He took my hand and led me after himself.

- Before I take you upstairs on the streets – He explained. – I have to teach you things.

- What sort of things? – I inquired.

- At first, to know the cellars. It is easy to get lost and I am not always here to collect you. You have to learn where to go so you will be able to walk alone.

- Yes, but I see nothing.

- You can't always carry a lantern. You have to learn these passageways so that you will be able to go through even blindfolded.

- And can you see in the dark?

- I can. Just as fine as at daylight.

- Can you see colors too?

- Yes. – He replied.

- Good for you! – I grinned. – How I envy your cat eyes.

- I envy human looks. – He sighed with a hint of irritation, but did not scold me.

- But why can't I carry a lantern?

- Because people might see you. And from upper than the third cellar you ought to be as silent as possible. – He sighed, just as he had to explain every obvious things to a not too smart child. – We are not exactly living here all legally, you see. Unless you wish to cause Erik and yourself trouble, you shall follow my instructions.

- I would never cause you trouble dear. – I hugged him from behind, but he jumped a bit from fright, as he wasn't prepared for it.

- Then please don't cause me to have a heart attack by surprising me. – He scolded.

- It is only me here, why are you scared? – I laghed out, but he silenced me.

- You aren't. – He pressed his hand against my mouth for some seconds, trying to locate any sounds, and only after he made sure we were still alone, he released me. – We might have companion sometimes.

- Who? The Daroga?

- I am not hiding from the Daroga. – He shook his head. – I don't care about that Persian cop.

- Then who? – I nagged him.

- Him. - He replied with an ominous tone. For a second, I thought he only wanted to frighten me as he did when we met, so I went on.

- Who him? Is there someone frightening here? A real ghost perhaps…?

- He is worse than a ghost. He wears a hat and a cloak like me. But if you walk alone in the cellars, don't run to any cloaked figure yelling "Erik" because you might end up at the director's office in a second. He is strong and can carry you by your ears. The Persian cop was caught by him, not once.

- Oh that guy I did not know the role of in the book!

- Yes. – He sighed, that I finally understood.

- Anyway, do as I say. Then nothing bad will happen.

In the following days he taught me to everything. I was walking after him, as silently as I could, sometimes I had to remove my shoes as they were yet too new and squeaking. We worked out a way of communication without words, which indicated situations we needed to handle. If he turned back and tapped my shoulder quickly it meant "Hide" and I had to search for the nearest switch that made me able to jump in a secret passageway behind the wall. Once we even had to use it in real danger situation as we saw the cloaked figure. Erik stood still behind that wall with me, hugging me close to himself, and put his hand on my mouth to avoid the smallest of noisemaking on my side. After the figure left, he nodded, and peeked outside if he was still able to see him. But he was gone. The figure even kicked the walls while passing so I was scared as Hell, but Erik assured me unless I make noise, we were fine there. When the thing was finally gone, and we got out of our hiding place, I stuck my tongue out in the direction where the figure went.

- He is just doing his job. – Erik shrugged. – He has to put bread on the table somehow.

- Then he could better go and do some kind of honorable job, not this spying disgusting sneaky thing.

- As killing people for money is much more acceptable, you say?

- As an assassin?

- No, as a soldier. Why do we respect soldiers if we loathe assassins? What is the difference?

- Soldiers save the country. – I stated.

- By going to another country and kill innocent citizens? – Erik snorted. – Don't make me laugh with this bullshit. Assassins at least do only kill dangerous spies.

- Like this one? – I pointed after the cloaked man.

- Kind of.

- Then why is he still alive?

- Whoah. You now encourage Erik for murder, do I hear it right?

- No. I only inquired why you left him alive. Not a problem though.

- As his disappearance and sudden death would cause people to sniff after Erik. Erik is not stupid. It is better to have this thing walking along the cellars once a day than having a bunch of people trying to directly search for the Phantom. He now goes back to the director's office and says everything was all right. It is how it's meant to be.

- Oh… true. – I nodded. I honestly did not think of this reason.

I memorized all of the ways down to the house and up to the Opera, and towards Rue Scribe. Depends where we were going, there were different ways and shortcuts. The cellars were huge and Erik did not like to walk a lot. That is why he used the shortcut from the third cellar to the torture chamber. He did show me the way, yet warned me not to use that when I am alone. He was afraid, with my lack of sense of balance, I'd jump at the wrong place and got seriously injured if for example I landed on the roof and slid down from there. I promised him I will never go there without him, and it seemed to calm him. I now was sure he liked me a lot, as the possibility of my injury or death did send him to panic. He wanted to make sure I won't do silly things, and would ask many times about do I know what I should not do. When I listed him his rules he was always calmed down that I know the lesson.

1. Never jump in the torture chamber.

2. Never get the figure's attention.

3. Never try to light a fire, and never leave a candle alone, even for a minute.

4. Never to climb into the boat alone.

5. No jumping around in the boat while he rows.

6. Never to walk into the torture chamber to investigate the mechanism.

7. No meddling with equipment I don't know.

8. No touching the liquids in the Louis Philippe room's case.

These were the most important rules I had to know, but they lessened as I learned more and more things. For example after I learned how to light a fire in the stove or a fireplace, the "not starting a fire" rule was outdated. Living in the 19th century wasn't that hard as I imagined, though Erik had luxurious living arrangements compared to his era, with running water and some electricity in his house, which finally made it possible for me to charge my phone, and show it to Erik. He adored new things and my phone amazed him. I knew if I had to live alone in a cottage, things would not be as easy as I would have to pull water from a well, or pump it in buckets. I was thankful for Erik's claims about the still newly invented water closets, as I would not be too fond of chamber pots. I nearly felt like I was home, with such an equipment. I helped Erik with everything I could, I did the dishes, I put the firewood in the stove, I dusted, and I scrubbed the floors. Cutting and handling firewood was something he did not let me do. He was concerned about me working with an axe.

One thing I wished to learn by myself: rowing the boat. I asked Erik to teach me to do so, which was rejected at first, due to the fact I could not swim. At the end though, he finally agreed because of the reason he was thinking I should be able to use the boat without him if he was unable to row because of some health issue. His hand was broken before, so it could happen anytime again, and save for the Rue Scribe and the Torture Chamber ways, I needed to go through the lake at some point. Rue Scribe way required a huge fuss of literally rounding the whole Opera if I wasn't going from that direction, so it was a long way we rarely used, and the Torture Chamber way was forbidden for me, so yes, I needed to learn to handle the boat.

I thought it would be easy, looking at how Erik seemingly did not put any effort in it, and I imagined it would take no time until I row as well as him. Oh how wrong I was… Balancing the two paddles was a nightmare, I was constantly turning in one side, finally going in circles or being stuck sideways. Turning and backing were hard to learn as well, especially turning. Yet I turned without intent, if I did want to go in a direction, the boat did exactly the opposite of what I wanted. After two hours of desperate trying, my shoulders, arms and back were in pain and my palms were aching as well, as I squeezed too hard. Erik just acknowledged the thing with a forgiving smile, yet he tried to help me the best he could with my pains. Yet I did not wish to give up. Erik actually found my persistency much praiseworthy, so he encouraged me about it, and this made me even more determined. In a few days, I was much better at it, and in two weeks, I was able to navigate the boat just fine, without Erik's help. He praised me and patted my shoulders, telling me how proud he was of me, as I, despite of being a girl, learned to do such a hard physical work.

- What a little survivor and determined little girl you are. – He smiled. – Erik is proud of you.

I could not be happier about a thing he ever told me. He was making me feel so good about myself finally, that I never felt such a delight about something I did.

Also, singing gave me pleasure. I liked to sing again as we had lessons with Erik, day by day. Firstly, we worked only on scales and warm ups, but I enjoyed it just as I was singing songs, though I hated to practice other times. Erik gave me tips and ideas of how to make my voice sound a bit more mature and richer sounding. He, as he said earlier, was indeed a patient teacher compared to his temper usually. He corrected my mistakes, but never remarked them, and wasn't making fun of me, no matter how ridiculous I sounded. The only thing that made him annoyed was if I stated I was unable to do something.

- "Inability" as you call it, my child, is pure laziness and the lack of want. If you WANT to do something, you can do something- remember how you learned to row that boat? Yet you are a young girl and weaker than an adult male who got used to carrying bricks or cement for decades. You row just as fine as he does now.

I had to realize he was right. As I stopped claiming I could not do something, I succeeded in doing a very complicated jump between two notes, as Erik instructed me. I was so happy about it I instantly ran to hug him as he sat in front of the piano and I leaned my head on his shoulder. He did not protest, and patted my back with a few words of encouragement.

- Thank you Papa. – I told him without thinking.

- Papa? – He repeated with a hint of surprise.

- Sorry. – I apologized quickly. – I lost my mind.

- There is, I think, a meaning behind you suddenly addressing me as your father. – He said seriously, yet not scoldingly. – What has happened to your father? Did you… lose him recently?

- In a way. But I have lost him nearly 20 years ago, to be honest. – I admitted softly.

- Come. – He pulled me down next to him on the bench. – Let's talk about this issue. I would wish you to be comfortable around me, as I like you now. A lot. And you may tell Erik anything.

- Well, it is just… so my father and I are not in the best relationship since I was 10.

- Why?

- Because… he is blind from the age of 27 which was a big enough problem, but when I was 10 years old, he started to lose his hearing as well. Now he is nearly all deaf, and uses hearing aid, but the bigger problem is his depression. He stopped to be a father for me 18 years ago. Until that he was a father everyone asks for. He adored me and I adored him. But depression changed him and the relationship between us. At first… he just stopped caring about me. He never asked about what had happened to me and Mom, and… he did not care if I told him. And when I got to college, we found out I had… so mental disability. I am not sure if in this century, it is already known, but it is a form of Autism. And he could not accept that. He insulted me about it a lot and said I was good for nothing. He did not believe I was able to go through college. When I finished, he said it was just a matter of… luck.

- I knew it was more to your lack of self esteem than your voice teacher's rubbish. – Erik stated calmly.

- Yes… so I told you already that I wasn't a popular child at school either. And my father… and my teacher…

- I see. – He sighed and nodded. – And your mother? How was she to you?

- She is the only one who understands me and we finish each other's sentences. We are soulmates. And there is a boy I met online… you know on the internet, I told you about before.

- Boy? – He looked at me with a bit of suspicion.

- Yes, Jeff. He is six years older than me and a total sweetheart. He loves Phantom as well. We met because liking your story. It was our interest we shared.

- And what is he to you?

- You see… I love him a lot. We were planning to meet up and…

- Get married? – He went on.

- Yes, eventually. But he lived at the other end of the world. He lives in America, and me in Hungary.

- Long distance relationships never work out. What on Earth you do? Send letters to each other?

- It is easier as we can talk face to face with the phone's camera. It is like I was talking to you. The only thing is I can't touch him.

- You see him and hear his voice? – His jaw dropped.

- Yes. But now that I lost internet connection and skyrocketed back in 1881, I guess we are not together any more. He isn't even born yet. Not even his Grandfather maybe.

- So you stuck with me in the past.

- Yes, but I don't mind it. I feel better here than at home. I just miss Mom and Jeff. And my dog. I was going through a lot of stress lately, and here with you I feel like I got a new chance for starting everything over. You are not mad for calling you Papa accidentally, right?

- Not at all, just you surprised me with it. I think I am old enough to be your father anyways.

- Why, may I ask… how much older are you, Erik?

- It is a strange question. Mathematically speaking, as you were born in 1989, I would say I am older than you by 157 years, but as it makes me feel like a corpse even more, let's just stick with the difference between your and my current age, which is 21.

- You were born in… in…

- 1832. – He helped.

- Which month? – I went on.

- Same as you. – He said.

- And which day?

- Why do you ask for my Birthday, do you want to celebrate it?

- Yes.

- In that case, you would have to wait until it shows up in the calendar as I was born in a leap year.

- Wow! You age a year in every four years! – I exclaimed. – Awesome.

- If it was that simple, I'd like it too. Anyway, you may call me Papa sometimes if it makes you feel better, but mostly, please stay with Erik. And understandably you miss a faher from your life. I would be proud to be your father.

- Oh Erik… this is the kindest thing you told me yet… thank you!

I hugged him tight and he stroke my hair, placing my head against his chest. This was the first time he did it, and it meant the world to me.

Erik's diary:

[…] In these weeks I have learned much from Juti, just as she learned much from me. I have trained her to know the cellars, made her develop a singing technique, which is why we go slower than we were going with Christine. Christine got a basic training in Conservatory, but Juti started singing from zero, literally. Her voice is pleasant, especially after I explained her how to make her voice sound richer, exploring more layers in her intonation. Her range is getting wider.

I have learned about accepting myself finally, as she won't stop complimenting me in every way possible. I am not sure if I should believe her, but she seems to be so honest…

Also she made me learn about modern technique and gadgets when once she shyly asked if I had electric power in the house. I could not imagine what she needed it for, but I indeed used power to run the organ's windbag, the alarm system and the torture chamber. I informed her about I indeed have it, but I wished to know the reason she was in need of it for.

She showed me one of the unidentified devices I found in her pocket when I found her, and told me it was her favorite device, but it ran out of power and she wasn't able to use it. She handed me both the device and the equipment to charge it with, so I connected it in the place of the organ windbag for her. I could really miss it for some time, to make her happy.

When it got full charged and she was so so happy about it, just like a child if she gets back a precious toy, I got interested in why did she like it that much. She was rather adorable as she showed me the features she loved the most about the device. She explained it was a telephone, abbreviated as "phone", but people in 21st century did not use it for calling each other mostly, but for browsing the internet. She said, as we were in 19th xentury, the device lacked the internet, which was a pity, as she could have showed me many more interesting things, but good enough without it too. I had never seen such a thing before. It had a glass surface which showed pictures and text, the durface was glowing in the dark and it reacted to touch. Not only hers, mine too. I found out she stored music on it, and she showed me parts of that "Phantom of the Opera" play she was talking about. "Music of the night" performed by a guy named Michael Crawford was very special to her as she asked my opinion about it, I shrugged. The song was quite touching and well- composed, yet the man's voice was rather strange to me, as if he was living on Helium, so it took away from the magic for me. She seemed to love the guy's voice, so I did not directly insult him though. She was looking at me questioningly for some time, then asked.

- Would you please…?

- Would I please what? – I asked, pretending I did not understand what she wanted.

She sure wanted me to sing it. Strange thing, really, I still did not sing for her, not even after weeks. I knew she wanted it, and I gave her voice lessons, and played music for her, but to be honest, I did not feel too good emotionally to sing. It was too soon after Christine had left, and it was painful for me to sing. However I liked Juti, I still felt a huge gap in my heart that yearned for Christine, knowing she will never return – I just can't pretend she never existed just because I found a –rather nice though – other companion. When I corrected her singing, I mostly played the correct melody on piano, or just explained to her in prose. She had a good enough hearing to follow it without singing pattern.

- Would you please sing for me? If you don't want this song, you may sing whatever you wish to. – She pleaded. – Your speaking voice is so enchanting just as in the book. I would like to hear you sing…

- Don't ask that of me, please. – I shook my head and sighed sadly. – Erik does ot want to sing.

- Not anymore…?

- It was a miracle I was able to play the piano so soon after… the… the happenings. – I admitted softly. – I play for you anytime you want, but I do not feel ready to sing yet.

- Oh, I see. – She nodded understandingly. – Do you wish to stop the lessons then?

- No. – I replied. – It doesn't pain me to hear you sing.

Her offer surprised and touched me. She was willing to give up voice lessons if they were hurting my soul. She adored music lessons, and yet she was just about to go without them for my well being.

- Are you sure? – She continued worriedly.

- I am. We can have music lessons. They help me. And… eventually Erik is going to… get used to singing again. Just give him time. When he feels comfortable enough, he will sing for you. – I promised.

She accepted my reasoning, and did not ask me anymore about singing, which was kind of her. She respected my will, which was foreign to me. Not even Christine respected it, as if she did, my mask was never touched in the first place… eh.

She also showed me a game I quite liked. It is called "Piano Tiles". The point was I had to touch the black tiles running down on the surface and it made the device play piano music of famous composers. She was amazed I bet her "High Score" at each song, because I could continue when the music was getting faster and faster as well. Well, having long fingers and 45 years of routine seems to pay off.

Once when she was browsing her device, I heard a strange clicking sound, and got suspicious about what the devil could produce that.

- What was that? – I asked suddenly.

- Umm… nothing. – She stuttered.

That reply did not satisfy me at all, so I walked closer. She pushed some button on it quickly and when I arrived next to her it only showed the main screen.

- What were you doing? – I demanded a reply.

- I took… a picture.

- With what?

- It has a built in camera that can record moving pictures and pictures…

- And you took a picture of what?

- You won't be angry if I tell…?

- Me. – I stated coldly.

- Yes. – She nodded.

- This instant… I demand you to destroy it.

- Erik, please, just one picture, please…

- No. – I growled. – Either you destroy it, or I destroy the device.

I reached out to take it from her, but she shook her head desperately and showed me a screen in which I could see the picture of me disappeared.

- Never do that again. – I threatened her. – Or I will not talk to you for a week.

- Please forgive me, I just… I just wished to have a picture of my… best friend… and Papa.

Oh she called me Papa again. As she told me the story about her relationship with her father, or to be clear, the lack of it, I understood why she clung to me so much as a father figure. She felt she at least she found someone she loved as a father instead of her own. And to tell the truth, I thought she was like a daughter to me.

With a sigh I walked closer and crossed my arms on my chest.

- One picture. – I said softly. – Take it before I change my mind.

With a wide smile all over her face she moved the phone in the right angle, and I heard that clicking sound again.

- Thank you Papa. – She smiled.

- Mhm… just promise you will never show it to me. I don't wish to see it.

She promised and I slowly left her to herself so that she will be happy about that picture of Erik. And it did not feel that horrible as I thought it will.