The bright light of the Parisian streets was blinding and obnoxious. It was the strangest sensation I'd had in all my life and I wanted to get out of it as soon as I could. I frantically looked for an apartment to rent.

Had I known what I was getting myself into, I never would have chosen the building I did. I was drawn to the extravagant edifice because I had a sort of pet peeve about poor architectural design when it came to where I lived. Before entering, I stood outside for a while, examining the structure. I was pleased with it.

The cool shade of the indoors was a refreshing contrast to the intense sunlight. I sighed audibly, relieved. Two young women giggled. They were leaning against one of the marble pillars that stood on either side of a large desk where a fat, balding man was seated.

I tensed up as I often did when I felt I was being ridiculed. It didn't occur to me until the braver of the two came up to me that their interest in me was anything but amused repulsion.

The girl was wearing a light pink dress that obviously had cost someone quite a bit of money. She was short and curvy, with blond hair and an attractive, arrogant face that suggested aristocracy. She approached me with little to no hesitation, and, to my disbelief, flirted openly.

"My sister Claire and I were watching you outside. What on Earth were you looking for?"

The sister blushed across the room and giggled again. I felt very, very strange and unsure of how to react. An unflawed face made this much of a difference in my appearance?

I glared down at the girl. "It's none of your business what I was looking for, Mademoiselle, and I suggest you quit bouncing and giggling before I am sick."

My abominable, sarcastic social skills only seemed to fuel her.

"You seem stressed… and alone. Why is a man like you alone? You're very cute, in a dark, artsy sort of way. How old are you?"

I sighed loudly, growing tired of this. "Twice your age, at least."

Even this didn't seem to put an end to the questioning.

"That's okay; I only wanted to talk for a bit… and you know, age is only a number…"

I'd had enough of these innuendos. "I dare say I'd be far too dark and… artsy… for your taste. I am very busy, if you'll excuse me."

I stepped past the overpriced pink dress and its contents and strode over to the desk at last.

"Excuse me; I was wondering if I could rent a room."

The fat, balding man looked up at me. He too had an aristocratic air, as well as a snobby nose that stuck up like a pig's. I prepared myself for the inevitable degradation, but was treated fairly decently. As we discussed how I would pay, I heard the door slam as someone came in.

A young, manly, all-too-familiar voice cried from behind me, "Bastian, I'm here at last! Give me your offer!"

I didn't dare turn around. I froze, shaking with anger and fear. This was the end; I was sure to be recognized and thrown in prison.

The young man strode up to the desk and slammed his hands on it, grinning. It was very like him, from what I remembered, to cut ahead of me, as if his affairs were of more importance than the common man's. The older man (Bastian, I gathered) smiled lightly.

"Ah, Raoul, your father told me you were interested in purchasing one of my summer homes. Ready to move out at last, are we?"

The stupid boy frowned, obviously sensitive to the fact that he had lived with his parents for some time. I would have taken great pleasure in this had I not been petrified.

"I am married now, Bastian, as I'm sure you know. My wife and I will be needing a home… and our privacy"

He chuckled. This time it was all too much. I looked up at him, hatred etched into my face. I could feel the rubber tug slightly at the skin above my eyebrows as I knitted them and glared.

The Vicomte noticed me at last. He looked puzzled.

"Are you going to be sick, Monsieur?"

Quite possibly, I thought, though I was relieved and shocked that he hadn't recognized me. Once again, did a proper face make that great of a difference? I suddenly wondered if even Christine would recognize me. It was a painful thought. I shook my head and went back to waiting my turn to speak with Bastian.

Raoul went on. "You know, I think the mansion you are selling would be perfect. All it needs is a little renovation- no offense, of course. I'm sure I could even live in it while the work is done. I just need to find myself a personal architect, someone to come by and fix it up on a daily basis. Good architects are so hard to come by these days; why is that?"

Oh, God. The plot seemed too perfect to ignore, the way it unfolded just so. Destiny was tempting me again, the way it had the night I first heard Christine sing. It was pulling me in. My logical conclusions and promises to Madame Giry and Nadir were hopeless against its power. I was trembling again, this time with anticipation. I couldn't do this; it was horrible; it would destroy me. And yet I had to. I couldn't stop myself. The impulses that ran through me were too strong. It had already been set into motion long ago.

The words came tumbling out before I could stop them.

"I am an architect, Monsieur. A very highly qualified one, in fact."