Chapter II: The Lair
The plaza was empty at this late hour of the night, but Raphael didn't care. He just needed to walk and clear his head of these thoughts.
The Phantom…he had been told by his mother that he was a horrible man that killed and such. His mother, Meg Giry, had even known a girl who had been 'attacked' by the Phantom, as his mother had put it, and it was only because of the opera's patron that she was able to escape. He hadn't seen his mother for ages. It had been over eight years since she had left him and his father. His father was abusive, and it was thanks to his daily beatings he had the scar on his left cheek. His father had eventually left him on the streets six years ago, right before Raphael had been planning to run away. Raphael had been lucky to find the opera house, and he began his life as a backstage worker, a life that was so far away from his dream of the stage…
Raphael hadn't been watching where his feet carried him, and suddenly found himself in front of an old and majestic building. The old Paris Opera House. The doors were boarded shut, and there was a sign in French that read 'Keep out; Condemned Site.' Raphael thought for a moment. He had a couple of hours before he was expected to retire…no, he shouldn't go barging into an abandoned building. He sighed, hating it when his curiosity got the better of him, and walked up to the doors, and with little struggle, pried the boards off and opened the doors.
He walked into the opera house, looking around the majestic lobby with wide eyes. The ceiling was painted and there were velvet seats as if it was a parlor. He walked across the lobby, opening the double doors into the theatre.
If he had been stunned when he saw the parlor, it was nothing compared to the beauty of the theatre itself. Rows upon rows of velvet seats filled the house, and a light cobweb clung to the arms of the chairs with invisible arms. The ceiling in here was painted as well, although it was much more beautiful. He saw at the ceiling there was a stub of metal that he assumed once was a pulley that held the amazing chandelier. As he got closer to the stage, he could see where the impact had hit the seats, even though the destroyed seats had been removed along with the destroyed chandelier. He walked easily up onto the stage via a ramp, and then turned around, looking out onto the whole house. So this is what it felt like to be in center stage.
He turned away from the house, preparing to walk back off of the ramp back to the new opera house, but he spotted something odd: a trapdoor in the stage. He thought at first that it was just part of the set, but decided to examine just in case. He opened the door of the trapdoor with a bit or wrestling with the rusty handle, to find a stone passage way. He looked around to make sure nobody else was watching (which was very foolish, since he was in an abandoned building) and jumped into the passageway.
His feet quickly hit the bottom. In front of him was a dark passageway with unlit torches along the way. He used two stones from he ground to create some sparks that lit one of the torches and began to walk. He noticed vaguely that the passageway was slowly sloping downwards, meaning that he was soon to be underground, if he wasn't already.
He walked down for what seemed like an eternity, finally seeing up again that the passageway opened up into something else. Was it a room? There were odd shadows in the room…they seemed to move, almost like…water…
He reached the end of the passageway, and found himself in what seemed like an underground channel. The water was disgusting and seemed to be stagnant for many years. Raphael was standing on what seemed like a boarding dock, and just on the edge of the water floated an old boat. He looked around, and saw even more cobwebs down here than in the opera house itself. Where in the world was he…?
His curiosity still thirsting to be quenched, Raphael nimbly boarded the boat. He looked around on the inside and found a long rod. He then began rowing himself down the canal, looking around as the water cast an odd transforming light on the cave walls. He found a torch holder attached to the prow of the boat and set his torch in it, continuing down the canal.
He felt as if there was an odd presence here, as if a ghost still lingered in these tunnels. Of course, Raphael didn't believe in ghosts, but the whole effect of the tunnel was still quite eerie and, if he did say so himself, spooky. Where would this take him? Why was this in the catacombs underneath the opera house? And who would use this boat? Who would visit this place?
The tunnel emptied into a small underground lake. Raphael looked around, completely stunned. He had entered some sort of underground cave. Yet this was no untouched cave. It seemed many years ago somebody had definitely been here. There were extinguished candles all around, and there were mirrors, too. But this place hadn't been touched for many years; that much was plain. A thick layer of dust covered the entire cavern, and cobwebs filled every corner.
Raphael rowed the boat to the edge of the lake and got out, wading through a few inches of water to get to land. He began to walk around, looking at everything with wide eyes. The candles had been all but burnt out, and, quite oddly, every last one of the mirrors had been broken, hardly any glass remaining in their frames. And so many candles everywhere…it would be amazing if they were all lit…
It was amazing. And he hadn't even lit all of them yet. Using the torch, he lit one of the candles, then proceeded to light every last wick. He had almost finished, and now the whole cave glowed with an eerie glow.
In the process of lighting these candles, he had been able to find many odd things. The first was a miniature model of the theatre. It looked just as bad, if not worse, than the real thing. It seemed somebody had set fire to this as well, judging by the candle that lay next to it, which was exceptionally odd to Raphael. Had whoever been here planned the whole catastrophe in this very cave?
He also discovered another odd thing. He found a model of a human head on the same table that held the model. But this was no ordinary model of a head. The head was wearing an odd mask that only covered the left side of its face. Raphael observed the mask for a short while, and then continued to light the candles, forgetting the mask for the moment.
He neared the last candle and raised his own to light it, before something on the table the unlit candle rested on caught his eye. It was a book. He set down his own candle, picking up the book. He recognized it immediately as the score for an opera, simply by the size of the paper. Oddly, this book was almost in perfect condition, except for a layer of dust. He tried to read the front cover, but was unsuccessful. He blew off a bit of the dust, which was just enough to read three words: 'Don Juan Triumphant'. He dusted off the rest of the cover with his sleeve, but found no author's name. Was it Anonymous? Suddenly, he remembered when Jacques had told him about the accident…the opera they had performed was this very opera he held in his hands…and it had been written by…
Raphael nearly dropped the fragile book in shock. He was in the very place where the Phantom of the Opera had been! Was this his very lair? Was this odd cave really the home of a madman and a murderer? Raphael was breathing deeply. Suddenly, he looked across the room at the mask, sitting on the manikin head's face. He had a face carved by the Devil himself...
Raphael blinked, looking back down at the score for the infamous opera. If he was a madman, how had he written an entire opera? Raphael sat down in a chair and opened up the score, beginning to read.
His first impression was one word: interesting. These were not conventional cords, nor were they popular keys to use. They were definitely not major chords; no, not even minor chords. What kind of chords were they? Raphael could somehow hear the music as he read it. Somehow, he could hear the harmonies. They were very faint, but deep inside this odd opera, he could find a beauty. It was an odd sort of beautiful. Not beautiful like a summer day where the sun shines and gives heat and warmth to all who live. This was a sort of beauty that made the hair on the back of one's neck go taut, the sort of beautiful that created a shiver down their spine and made their stomach lurch. It was its own beautiful, a completely different species of beautiful. This was true beauty that only true geniuses could imagine.
Raphael looked up at the mask yet again. Maybe this Phantom of the Opera wasn't such a lunatic. He could see just from this opera that he certainly had genius. True genius that doesn't come along in everyday men. True genius that couldn't be handled by many men and would drive many to insanity.
Somehow, and hardly without his knowing, Raphael began to stand up, closing the opera score and setting it on the table. He walked over to the mask, removing it from the manikin head. A face with a defect on one side…Raphael cast his eyes past the mask at a pile of shattered glass on the ground. He walked over to the glass, looking at his own grimy and dusty reflection. Even through the filth, Raphael could still see the scar on his left cheekbone. He looked back down at the mask, and slowly put the mask on. He looked back at his jagged and deformed reflection in the broken glass, the mask hiding his scar perfectly. He seemed a different man now. It hid the single thing he hated most…and the mask fit him like a glove…
Suddenly, Raphael gave a startled yelp, wrenching the mask off of his face, staring at it with a horrified look on his face. Had he really been thinking that the Phantom was a genius! Was he really considering taking on his own mask? What ghost inhibited this cave that compelled him to even consider trying on the mask? What was happening to him…?
Raphael suddenly rushed over to the score, picking it up. He then began going around to all of the candles, blowing all of them out one by one. He had to leave here at once. He was foolish to even come here. What had he been thinking? He continued to walk around, still blowing out the candles. He walked up to the last lit candle, but paused, looking back down at the opera score in his hands. He would take the book with him, and finish reading it. He would learn everything he could about this Phantom. He would learn the truth. He blew out the last candle, casting the entire cave into darkness, matching the dark thoughts in his head.
Note from author: OK, it isn't often I add notes, but I found that I had to mention one of my favorite musicals of all time: Wicked. Now, you wonder why I mention this musical. It is because it reminds me so much of Raphael's thoughts of Don Juan. If you listen to the first two minutes of the musical, you will know what I mean. I also apologize at my inability to describe the 'beauty' of Don Juan. It's impossible to explain. Again, that's again why I mentioned Wicked. The first few minutes of the musical are, in its own way, beautiful. OK, I'm going to shut up before my note is longer than the chapter, and nobody likes that.
Next Chapter: Rumors
When Raphael began disappearing for hours at a time in his room, rumors naturally began to arise. What was he doing in there? Why was he suddenly locked in his room all afternoon and all evening, if his schedule allowed?
