Don't own Phantom of the Opera, and I never will.

Ah, the follies of youth. How carefully I made my plans. How eagerly I laid in wait for my opportunity. How brainless I was. I don't know how I ever thought those tricks would work on any but the most stupid of men.

I'm surprised he didn't strangle me on the spot. Although if he had, people might have suspected who he was, or at least tried to detain him until the police got there. So I guess I'm surprised he didn't drag me deep under the Opera House and strangle me there, leaving my body to rot undiscovered until the end of time.

Aurelie kept her eye on the scarlet man as she slipped the crowd. Not that that was hard, what with his eye-catching outfit and the ring of clear space surrounding him.

She'd try to make him come to her, Aurelie thought. It would be so much simpler if he did. She took note of his direction—he was purposefully walking through the crowd as if he had some destination in mind—and quickly circled around to get in front of him. When he was close enough she smiled prettily and tried to catch his eye.

He didn't even look her way as he swept past.

Aurelie's smile slipped, and she glared at his departing back. But, determined to win the bet, she circled around and tried again. And again. And again. Every time he walked right by without so much as a glance in her direction, leaving her to glare at the embroidered "Don't Touch Me!" on his back as if it was personally talking to her.

Frustrated, she leaned back against a column to plan her next move. Ahead of her, the scarlet man moved yet again through the room. Aurelie wondered what—or who—he was looking for. He certainly wasn't there to have fun. She would have to try a more direct approach.

Once more she hurried to get in front of him. By dint of some skillful maneuvering through the crowd, she managed to set herself on a collision course for him, all the while pretending to be looking in the other direction.

Fate seemed to be with her, for the crowd opened up at precisely the right moment and she crashed into him. She grabbed his arm to steady herself. "Oh! I'm sorry, Monsieur. I—" She trailed off as she looked up at his masked face.

Yellow eyes glared down at her like twin lamps, and his thin lips were twisted into the beginnings of a snarl. Combined with the horrific features of the death's head mask, it was a sight guaranteed to put off anyone interested in conversation. Or dancing for that matter.

Aurelie promptly forgot all the coy remarks she'd made up while planning her pursuit. She forgot all about the bet too. In fact, she forgot to think at all. She took a step back, but his hand shot out and grasped her wrist.

She stared at it in a kind of horror. His touch was cold, and his hand looked like a true skeleton's hand. Aurelie began to wonder if maybe he wasn't a man at all, but truly the Red Death.

Then he spoke. "Why have you been following me, Mademoiselle?"

Thank you everyone who reviewed! You inspired me to get this second chapter up so quickly.