"The Opera Populaire, after the strange affair of the Phantom of the Opera, was burned down almost to the ground, leaving only a part of the ground floor and its basements intact. The ensemble despaired, having no opera house to return to, and cursed the madman claiming to be the Phantom who burned their home. As time passed, and the ensemble had lost hope of ever returning to the Opera Populaire and got different jobs, managing somehow to push through life, an anonymous patron sent a cheque to a large amount of money to Madame Giry - more money, in fact, than she had seen in her life or ever dreamed of having.
Along with the cheque, there was a note: Madame was to gather up the old ensemble of the Opera Populaire, hire France's best architects and designers to work on the new opera house. The note was simply signed with: "A friend". A laborious two and a half years passed, and the Opera Populaire opened its doors to the public once again with a glorious performance of Verdi's "Traviata". The Opera, through time, regained its former glory and was once again the most visited opera house in all Paris. A new conductor, Luc Reyer, joined the ensemble, and proved that the apple did not fall far from the tree, for he was as good as his grandfather had once been, if not better. . ."
When Luc woke up again, he felt he was lying on something soft. He opened his eyes and saw that he was lying on a magnificent, swan-shaped bed with velvet sheets the colour of blood. A delicate curtain of black lace hung around the bed, so he couldn't see where he was. It wasn't so dark anymore: candelabras were placed around the bed and illuminated it. He saw that someone had removed his suit, leaving him only in his shirt. And then he remembered: the chapel... darkness... and then a voice... a voice...
Like on cue, the lace curtain around the bed rose, apparently without any help of human hands. Luc rose from the bed, seeing a doorway. Light poured from many candles as he passed through it.
He was in some kind of an underground cave. There was a vast glassy lake on his left side, closed from the rest of the canals with iron bars. On the lake a small boat was moored. The cave was filled with candelabras and burning candles: two candelabras even stood in the lake. Around the lake stood props from older plays like velvet curtain, busts and statuettes, covered mirrors, and an organ leaning against a stone wall, surrounded by note papers, discarded quills and ink bottles. And at the organ, there sat a man. He had his back to him, but Luc could see that he had sleek black hair and was probably some ten to fifteen years older than him. The man appeared to be scribbling
something on the paper, perhaps writing a letter, or composing, Luc couldn't tell: every now and then, the man would hit a note on the organ, making the pipes vibrate with music. Slowly, Luc walked towards the man. And then, the man spoke:
"I am glad you're awake, Monsieur Reyer." Luc recognised it at the same voice which sang in the chapel, and wondered where had this man taken him. "Do not take another step," the man warned, "or you shall feel very sorry about it." Luc caught a glimpse of his own reflection in a mirror above the organ: the man was watching him from there, but he couldn't see his face.
"Why have you brought me here?" Luc demanded. "What do you want with me? Who are you?"
"Welcome to the prison of my mind, Monsieur Reyer," the man said. "Has your grandfather not told you about the monster who dwells under the opera? Of the dark shadow who haunted everyone's minds and stole their precious prima donna from them, teaching her to be the most beautiful voice which ever walked out of Heaven...?" His voice became a whisper, and then silence. Luc was about to say that his grandfather stopped believing in that story long ago, when the pieces of the puzzle snapped together in his mind.
"You're... the angel of music?" The man laughed bitterly and loudly, and the echo multiplied his laugh, so it seemed a thousand men were laughing along with him all around Luc.
"The angel of music!" the man said. "Christine DaaƩ was the last one who ever dared to call me that!" he yelled, and then started singing under his breath, calling her name: "Christine, Christine... Christine... " Luc felt sorry for the man, who seemed to still love Christine DaaƩ, and instinctively took a step forwards. He was still looking at the mirror, trying to look at the Phantom's face. Once he took the step forward, he could see it.
The left half of the Phantom's face was covered with a white mask reaching down to his lips. He was looking down at his notes, but seemed not to really see them. Abruptly, he raised his head and saw Luc in the mirror, looking at him. The Phantom stood up, furiously, knocking the stool he sat on to the ground. He stormed towards him, and was almost neck to neck with him before Luc could realize what happened.
"I told you not to take another step, Monsieur!" he yelled at Luc and grabbed his shirt, pulling Luc towards him. "I said you would regret it!" he growled, his nose inches away from Luc's. His cold green eyes stared into the young conductor's. And then, the Phantom let him go. He removed his grip on Luc's shirt and turned away from him. He picked up Luc's jacket which was lying nearby and tossed it to him.
"You must return," he said. "The fools who run my theatre will be missing you." The Phantom, his back still turned to Luc, pointed to a mirror shrouded with a curtain. "Behind the mirror is a passageway which will lead you to an alley behind the opera house." Luc opened his mouth to say something, but the Phantom growled: "GO! Before I change my mind!"
As the young conductor opened the mirror and disappeared behind it, the Phantom of the Opera sat on a chair and buried his face in his hands. Under his breath, he sang:
"... Fear can turn to love, you'll learn to see, to find the man behind the monster... Christine..."
Luc emerged in the alleyway, like the Phantom said. He was momentarily blinded by the sunlight as he heard a rustle behind him. He turned, and saw that the passage had closed, and it wasn't possible to decipher the secret door from the rest of the wall. He turned a corner, and appeared in front of the Opera Populaire. He climbed the stone steps, pushed open the door, and bumped into someone small.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Monsieur," she said, "I didn't see where I was going..." It was Meg Giry, Madame Giry's daughter, her delicate figure wrapped into a dark coat over her ballet dress.
"Miss Giry!" Luc exclaimed. Meg looked up at him and her eyes widened.
"Monsieur Reyer!" she said. "Maman sent me to look for you: where have you been?" She sidestepped out of his way, and he entered the grand hall of the opera. "You face is white, Monsieur," Meg said in a concerned voice, "What has happened?" Luc took her by the hand, grateful for her concern, but his expression still remained despondent.
"You will learn in time, Mademoiselle," he said. "But now I need to speak to your mother. Where is Mame Giry?"
"Here I am, Monsieur." Madame Giry was standing at the top of the staircase, leaning on her cane like a queen in her kingdom of ballet dancers, props, angelic voices and fake smiles. "Have you anything to say to me?" She looked stern, like a mother scolding her scamp child.
"Yes," Luc replied. "He's there... the Phantom of the Opera." Madame Giry went pale.
"Not so loud, Monsieur!" she warned. "Come with me." She turned to her daughter. "Meg, get back to your practising."
"No! I want to stay!" Meg protested.
"No! " Madame Giry snapped. Meg left, and Madame Giry led Luc through the opera, and closed the door behind them when they were in a room used for storing old props needed only for plays performed infrequently.
"Now, Monsieur," said Madame Giry, lighting some candles and looking sternly at Luc, "what did you want to say to me about the Phantom?"
"He's still there, Mame Giry," Luc said, "under the opera! I've been there, to his realm! I saw him!" Madame shook her head.
"You must have been dreaming, Monsieur." She regarded his pale face. "The Phantom of the Opera died five years ago in the fire, and his lair was destroyed. Didn't you read the papers?" She blew out the candle and walked towards the door. "Men do not return from the dead, Monsieur."
"Madame...!" Luc tried, as she turned away and opened the door to leave. "You know I'm telling the truth! Why do you refuse to accept it?"
"Some things, Monsieur, are better to be kept in the past." Madame Giry turned around and looked at him. "Forget what you saw: the Phantom of the Opera is no more."
