As it turns out, the portly man who had been so unconvinced by Christoph was none other than the grandson of Monsieur Jean Andre, one of the owners of the Opera Populaire when the original Phantom lived there. Therefore, this man, Maurice Andre, knew all about the Phantom and his antics those many years ago. Despite knowing where the Phantom lived, Maurice left Christoph alone.

Christoph, of course, couldn't help but leave a few notes here and there, over the years, to let his presence be known. Typically, an occasional congratulatory letter on the latest opera. It was long before Christoph decided to write a new note:

Dear Monsieur Andre,

I have watched several rehearsals of your latest production, The Marriage of Figaro, and it seems quite promising. I request that you leave box 5 open for myself on the opening night.

Thank you,

O.G.

Maurice Andre sighed. "Just the way Grandfather said it was," he muttered, and stuffed the note into his pocket.

It had been precisely six years since this young Phantom had scared off the ballerinas (who, I might add, never came back again), and he had never ceased to make work amusing for Maurice with his notes. The old man only hoped that the apparition would not go as far as he did during that production of Don Juan so many years ago. Maurice glanced up at the chandelier hanging motionless from the ceiling, and could only imagine the damage that it did.

However, this phantom seemed passive enough not to cause much trouble. In fact, the most he had done was request to keep box 5 reserved for him, which wasn't any trouble for Maurice. He only wondered why the Phantom had not made this request earlier. He hoped that the reason wasn't because the Phantom disliked the other productions.

The real reason for Christoph's absence in the audience was the mask. This was the first opera of the year that he could attend because his great-grandfather's mask now fit him. He stood in front of one of the mirrors in his lair, trying his best to see his reflection in the shattered glass, and brushed his dark hair away before placing the mask on his face. He couldn't wait until the opening night of The Marriage of Figaro. He had waited so long in darkness.

"Only one more night," he said to his reflection. Sighing, he took the mask off to reveal the horrible scars and sat down at the piano. He tried to play, but his mind kept wandering to another thought:

"Only one more night…"