"After the fire in 1871, this opera house was said to be irreparable. But, then, in 1933…"

Christoph heard the man's voice from far below him, and looked over the edge of the catwalk. A group of young girls was gathered in front of the portly man who was explaining to them about the history of the Opera House.

"Uhm, sir," one of the girls said, raising her hand shyly, "What about…the Phantom?"

A few of the girls giggled nervously, others glanced around as though the mention of his name could bring the apparition's fury down upon them…and Christoph got an idea. These girls seemed so easily frightened, why not have some fun?

"Ah, yes," the man said, sighing, "A ghost story, no doubt-"

"Are you so sure of that?" Christoph yelled from his dark hiding place. To his delight, the girls let out several small shrieks.

"Who is that?" the man asked sternly, "Stop playing around, whoever you are!"

"So it seems you have the chandelier back up," Christoph said, trying hard not to laugh, "If you do not leave my Opera House immediately, it could come crashing down once more…"

The girls wasted no time, and were soon scrambling over each other in attempt to leave the haunted Opera Populaire.

"Girls! No, wait!" the man attempted to calm them, but to no avail. He sighed, and lifted his head to the ceiling, "Alright, whoever's playing these tricks is going to hear from me!"

"It's what you deserve for claiming that I don't exist," Christoph said, amusedly. Lost in his game, he forgot that he wasn't truly the Phantom of the Opera.

"So you're the Opera Ghost," the man said, crossing his arms. He obviously didn't believe Christoph. "I gather from your voice that you can't be older than twelve. Some Phantom! Come down now, boy."

Christoph backed further into the shadows. Should he show himself, it would be his first encounter with anyone besides his father. What if this stern man should greet him with the same horror as people had greeted his great-grandfather?

"No!" Christoph spat, and ran back down the hallway that he had come from. Uncertainty made him irritable, and he banged his fists against the walls and doors as he went, causing some of the ballerinas to open their doors cautiously once he was gone.

I don't want to be a monster, Christoph thought as he stepped lightly into the boat that floated calmly on the water. I don't want to be the Phantom…but I can't deny it…I am his heir, the newest "Angel in Hell"…

Christoph walked sadly through his lair, trying to comfort himself with familiarity. His hand brushed against the white mask on the table. Lifting it up to his face, he judged that it would be several years before it would fit him. Until then, he would have to stay here, away from the world above him.