A/N: To any of you who may have misunderstood me in the last chapter: it's Christine that says Raoul's not a fop. I think he's a big fop. (Fireworks exploding in background) Yay!

My plans were temporarily halted when Christine left the Opera the following afternoon. No one knew why. It was somewhat discouraging. Of course, it would not stop things for long. Nothing ever stopped me for long. My life had been full of these obstacles, and I had defeated all of them. This was minor, and would be easily overcome.

The answer came after a short period of contemplation. I had completely forgotten to work one side of the problem. Christine was not the only part of the Raoul/Christine problem. I would spend my next few days dealing with Raoul.

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I found the young man in the manager's office at around five o'clock on the day Christine left. He was badgering the managers about anything Christine might have left to indicate her whereabouts or the reasons she had left. The two were about as baffled as the Vicomte. When they finally made it clear to him they had no idea, he stormed out of the office. I was not far behind.

The first place he went, of course, was Christine's dressing room. He tested the mirror to make sure it was still stuck in place. It was still very stuck. Satisfied she had not run away to me, or more likely, I had not kidnapped her, he left the room. He did not notice me lurking in the shadowy corner. Then again, no one ever did, as I have mentioned. I wondered how long I could go without being discovered. I'm sure it could be a fairly long time. I hope that after the plan had been carried out, everyone even remotely connected would try to become more aware of their surroundings.

All though it went against every gentlemanly instinct in my body, I decided to search Christine's room to see if I could determine the reason for her flight. Deep down I felt it had been me, and as it turned out, I was correct. All it said on the diary entry was that she could not stand it anymore. She had to get away. But away where? It did not say, and I cursed the pages. The day was not shaping up to be a good one. Remembering the main purpose of the day, M. de Chagny that is, I left the room and went to find him again.

I discovered the Vicomte wandering the halls. He seemed to be playing detective, walking slowly down each new dark and dusty corridor, tapping on the floor and walls. No secret passageways or storage areas were found. All the Vicomte found was an unused storage closet full of decaying rat carcasses. It was definitely not what he was looking for, and he quickly gave up on his game. He did not seem to be having much fun, or much luck.

"Phantom!"

The Vicomte's voice sliced through the thick air like a sharpened knife. I looked on curiously as he continued to yell for me. Would I answer his call? Would I be perhaps answering a challenge instead? The answer to most questions was definitely yes. I had not had any fun in such a long time. Eventually I would forgive myself for picking on such easy prey.