Monsieur Moncharmin, whitish his face because of the ghostly meeting de had in sleep moments before, and monsieur Firmin, who was starting to get nervous, moved upward the Grand Staircase after madame Giry, who had entered the Palais Garnier with great self-confidence.

The managers crossed as fast as they could the foyer following the woman's trail, prelude of the great wonders that had been done while the rebuilding of the Opera House after the flames had consumed it.

"I never thought of such a repair... I never thought I would see this theatre exactly as we can remember it, as we left it that fatal day in which..." Moncharmin said obviously touched.

"Oh, come on André" -Firmin interrupted him, urging him to walk with his stick-. "Let's not make madame Giry and the others wait. You'll have time to admire the achievements they did for this three years!"

Firmin was walking again when he stopped dead, looking back to his friend. He advised him.

"And change that face, please! No more bloody spectres from deep hells, right? Forget your dream. We don't want to attract the attention of buried affairs. The last thing we want tonight is to remember... Well... You know what..."

Monsieur Moncharmin nodded slightly. His dream wasn't one from a madman. It was very real; He could still remember that unforgettable voice, that gentle and pleasant tone that could captivate any mortal or drive them crazy with dread if it wanted to. And that was what happened to monsieur Moncharmin; even though he tried to hide his fear when he was with Firmin, the Phantom's words had filled him with anguish, a very well known anguish...

When the former managers entered the Great Hall, the applauses filled the room with a fuss.

It was like if the time hadn't passed and that was the very day in which both inexperienced managers were taking their position from the former ones. The same golden mosaics over an iridescent enamel; the same paintings that covered the decorated walls, showing the richness and the elegance the theatre had on the inside; even the same applauses they received in the past, thinking of the glorious days to come there, at the Opera Populaire...

Every worker stopped doing their business to meet the ones they served before the unfortunate day.

"Thank you, thank you so much" -said monsieur Firmin-. "I'm glad to meet you again after the great incident, you know... It's my pleasure to observe the splendid restoration you had made and your excellent job for the reopening of this Opera House."

"The new managers will be as pleased as we are knowing they can count on such a good workers to help them in the hard task that awaits them" -monsieur Moncharmin concluded without any vehemence.

"Monsieur Firmin and monsieur Moncharmin would want to go to the office to hand over the new managers the directorship of the Opera House" -said madame Giry, who had been behind them.

"That's right madame. We want to settle the sale so monsieur Montlouis and monsieur Fratizelli can practise their position without delay."

"Then come with me."

The workers returned to their tasks while Richard and André were following Madame Giry once more through the corridors, to their old office. They could check that the room was very well conserved. It seemed like if the documents hadn't been moved from their places.

"The fire didn't reach this room, so the office is as you can remember it the last time you were here" -said madame Giry, reading their minds-. "Wait a moment messieurs, I'll bring a document you must sign."

André collapsed over his seat while Richard was leafing through the papers on the bureau.

"How many memories..." -Richard whispered-. "It is like if the time hadn't passed, don't you think, my friend? Nothing has been moved since we left."

"Yes, this..." -said André wiping away the sweat upon his forehead with a handkerchief he had on his pocket-, "this is too weird. Someone should come to wipe this room..."

"Look!" -Firmin exclaimed-. "It is like if that note were upon the desk again! Do you remember? The Phantom's note?"

"Stop joking, Richard! You told me to forget him! Moreover, don't play the fool, it's impossible that that could be the Phantom's note because I took it to the police station for the research they opened..."

"What? Th... Then.. That... is..."

"For God's sake, stop stammering Richard! Whose is that damned note from?"

"It's… from the Opera Ghost..." -answered Firmin, as pale as his friend.

"What?... It can't be... It just can't be!"

"See it for yourself..."