I threw my cloak over my head as we stepped out the carriage, to ensure that no one would recognize me. It wasn't as if anyone relating me to the Opera disaster would have even seen me well enough that night to recognize me now, but still, the mask itself was quite conspicuous, and I didn't wish to be caught.

It hardly mattered, for the back entrance was deserted, as I knew it would be. Except by special guests, such as the Vicompte, hardly anyone used it.

Inside, the building hadn't changed at all, except that it had an eery stillness to it now, like a ghost town. It was like stepping back into a memory, or perhaps a nightmare. The grand staircase reminded me of the night I had lost my control, the night where, after ignoring and avoiding her for three months, I had terrified Christine with my presence, along with the rest of the aristocratic Masqueraders in there stupid costumes. I had been so angry, so blinded by my lust to possess her. I was such a fool.

Madame Giry touched my arm, obviously sensing my thoughts. I looked down at her, and she gave me a weak smile. Nadir was studying the flyers posted on the far wall about the newest operas. He waved us over, and we crossed the room to stand beside him.

"Monsier Reyer, the maestro, passed away."

Madame Giry bowed her head. "He was a good man…"

Nadir had a glint in his eyes that I wasn't sure I liked. "Oh, I don't doubt that. But think on the bright side…he'll need a replacement."

I looked up suddenly, my expression full of scorn. "Daroga, if you're implying me, I think it goes without saying-"

"Well, why not? Erik, I've been telling you for years, those operas you write should not go to waste. They are some of the most beautiful music I have ever heard- no, don't roll your eyes, I mean it! Erik, surely you could pull it off, most of the staff here are different now anyway. No one would really recognize you, you'd be in the pit, and we'd just have to convince the new management…"

Madame Giry laughed. "You are rather good at swaying new managers, Erik. Maybe it'd work."

I sighed.

"Let me think on it. I'm not sure I want to teach signing to anyone anymore, to be honest. I've lost my passion for such things."

Nadir's eyes lit up again. "Call me crazy, but I think I have an even better idea. With all the rumors flying around, I'm almost certain that it's impossible to find new managers anyway, after Firmin and Moncharmin took off. And we, well, you'd have plenty enough money to buy the whole place."

It was tempting, I had to admit that. I had basically designed the opera house after all, and I defiantly knew it, inside and out, better than anyone. I had to find something to do with my life anyway, and what else would suit my interests this way? I had to try.

"Alright. We can use my bank account, but I'll need you two to do all the business work, I can't go revealing who I am."

As Nadir started to estimate costs, I felt my mind wander. What an opportunity this could be. Ever since I was just a young boy, I'd wanted to pursue a career in the arts, and all the years I had spent living in this very opera house, I had wanted to change the way things were run. This was a chance to change the music world; to make the Paris Opera atmosphere about talent instead of looks, passion instead of money, beautiful voices instead of women like Carlotta. With my friends' and my influence, the Paris Opera house could finally be a building I was proud of. The feeling was rather foreign to me, but I believe that what I was feeling after that day was best described as excitement.

For several months Nadir went away, saying he wanted to go back to Persia, to try to retrieve some of his old money. He'd lost most of it, greatly due to me, but the shah had died recently, and he hoped to be able to find at least a small portion of his old fortune. I doubted he'd have any luck, but Nadir was a proud man, and didn't like the idea of my paying for the Opera House as well as our home, and I undrrstood.

One day, back at our house on the lake, I was in my room attempting to sketch with my almost healed hand. My progress was amazing; I had hope that I'd soon be fully recovered. I was sktetching a statue I wanted outside the Opera House when Madame Giry came in, saying she had good and bad news.

"The good news is Nadir has sent word that the Paris Opera House is now yours, Erik. It's under your bank account, and as long as the Vicompte de Changy or his wife doesn't pry into our affairs, no one should recognize the name as that of the Opera Ghost."

I smiled. "Good, we shall start the renovating soon then. I daresay we'll have to purchase a new chandelier."

Madame Giry gave me a harsh look. "Don't make me regret helping you by bringing that up, Erik."

I felt ashamed suddenly, like I hadn't in a long time; both Nadir and Madame Giry's disapproval could do that to me like nothing else. It wasn't something to joke about, and I knew that. I felt sick, and turned away. I still had a tendency to act extremely detached from the human race, to allow my wit and sarcasm to overshadow my sincerity. It was not a facet of my personality that I was proud of.

"How many casualties were there?" I asked carefully, barely whispering.

"I'm not sure exactly. Between 10 and 15, I would guess. More than ten."

I winced. I hadn't really bothered to think about the murders I had committed. I had been too wrapped up in my own problems, my own self absorbed drama. Even now it was hard to take that in. It was hard to care, and that what made me the most upset with myself.

My dead mother's words echoed in my head, from a time when I had broken a grandfather clock in the hall in order to use its pieces for an experiment, I had cried and said that I needed them, and that it was important. . "The means justify the ends…those are the words of the devil, Erik!"

I didn't like to think about my childhood or my criminal history. I sat down on my bed. Madame Giry sat down next to me.

"I know you're sorry, dear. I also know you weren't in your right mind when you did it. I'm not saying it's alright, but I still forgive you, and so does Nadir."

I stared out the window. "I haven't really changed, Madame."

She shook her head. "Oh no, you have, Erik, you most certainly have changed, a great deal."

I swallowed. "I didn't tell you everything that happened when I was with…Christine."

My throat was suddenly killing me. I wished the old woman would look away and give me some privacy.

"I know that, dear. You don't have to."

I sighed. "Well, simply put, I'm no saner than I was the night of the disaster. I'd still do foolish things, terrible things, to win her love. I cannot pretend that I wouldn't do it all again if I believed it would change her mind."

"You want her to love you Erik. That's different. Before, you just wanted to possess her, no matter the cost. I don't believe you would really do it again. I think you've learned. Tell me, why did you leave the de Chagny residence?"

I frowned. "Because…because I didn't trust myself. I didn't trust anything."

Madame Giry urged me on. "So you left with somewhat dignity? You didn't beg her, you didn't try to kill Raoul, or murder innocent people?"

"No," I said simply, "I just left."

"There you go."

I felt infinitely better as she stood up to go, when suddenly I remembered.

"Madame, what was the bad news?"

"Oh….I almost forgot to tell you! Oh well, this will be difficult…I got a letter from Chritine this morning."

I felt painful pricking nerves in the ends of my fingers and toes.

"What did she have to say?"

Madame Giry sighed. "Oh, very sad things as usual," she said with slight boredom, "the most tragic being that her husband has left her to go off and fight in the war with Prussia."

I gasped. "Raoul is leaving her in that house all alone? As far as I know, there wasn't a draft…"

Madame Giry frowned. "Oh no, there is no draft. It seems they had a sort of falling out not too long after you left. Raoul accused Christine of knowing it was you all along, and try as she may, she couldn't convince him that she wasn't sleeping with you behind his back."

"We didn't."

"Be that as it may, Erik, the Vicompte felt he had been lied to. No doubt he is tired of feeling inferior, I daresay it's not something he's used to. Many men like that gain sympathy and revenge by making martyrs of themselves, by joining the war, by ensuring that they will be missed. The Vicompte is very young, and no doubt his parents approve this decision. From what I've been told, their suspicions that Christine was a whore have finally been confirmed."

I began to pace like an animal.

"This is my fault. I didn't mean to hurt either or them, I just…well, maybe I did want to, but now I…Oh god, Christine will be miserable, Madame, locked in that big house all alone. She'll go even madder than she already is, the poor girl."

Madame Giry closed her eyes, as if anticipating a blow, and said slowly and calmy, "That's why I invited her here, Erik."

The pages of sketches that had been in my hand dropped to the floor, and I stopped pacing.

"You did what?"

"She's as much my child as you are, dear. I had to help her in this time of need."

I mouthed words like an idiot for a few moments, and then finally managed to croak, "No."

"Yes, Erik…"

"No, this is my house; I pay for it, do I not? I will not have her here. Send her to live with family."

I of course knew she had no family.

"What about friends."

No, that was useless, her only friend had been Meg, and no one had seen the blonde ballerina since the disaster. According to Nadir, there was a rumor that she had taken the opportunity to run off with her lover, Andreas, of whom her mother did not approve. I had guessed it was a sensitive subject, and didn't bring it up.

"Erik, there is simply no one else she can turn to. No one. She has found herself in a terrible mess, and as much as I'd love to say that I told her so, I care about her too much to abandon her in this time of need. I know you feel the same."

This was Raoul's fault as much as mine. I couldn't deal with this, I couldn't, not after I'd stormed off like I had, not now that my face was hideous again. I didn't want to see the girl; I didn't want those feelings to return. I was content to never love again, to own my opera and make my art and write my music, and I was happy! For the first time in my life, I had truly accepted my fate to never marry, but I had my friends who cared for me, I had my talents, I had my career. I even had a home.

I would not let Christine tear apart my life once more!

"Erik, I'm still upset with her as well. But we have to try to put our feelings inside. We all care for her, and we cannot abandon her."

I gave Madame Giry a frustrated glare, although I did not blame her at all.

"Alright," I said finally, turning to pick up my sketches, "she can stay here. But I'm moving back to my cellar."