Christine was the youngest member of the chorus by a decade. She knew every singer, and they welcomed her as family immediately. She enjoyed the thrill of performance within the safety of numbers. She loved the way her voice sounded as it blended with bass, baritone, tenor, and alto. The only dark spot in her choral career was the Angel of Music's baffling refusal to work on any choral pieces with her. He was intent on developing her solo voice to its fullest before moving on to anything else.

Two years passed in quick succession. As with her father's virtuosity before her, Christine's genius increased the Opera Populaire's respectability and ticket sales. Her voice was blended in with dozens of others, which prevented patrons from identifying the source of the sudden improvement, but her fellow chorus members knew, and most of them blessed her for it.

In the midst of her second year in the chorus, the Opera house was purchased by the powerful and discerning deChagny family. Many performers feared sudden changes in management, composers favored, and all the little things that new owners often decided to tailor to their own preferences. No changes occurred, and after a few months the reason came to light. The elder deChagny, Phillippe, cared nothing for the opera or for any music. He had purchased the place solely to please his younger brother, Raoul, of whom he was fond. Raoul attended performances faithfully, once per week. Box seven was reserved for him every night, whether or not he attended.

Christine often joined the other girls in peeking at him whenever possible. None of them could be blamed. The young man was impossibly handsome, with chiseled features and a strong, tall stature. His teeth were the same glistening white as his immaculate pocket handkerchief. He never failed to kiss a lady's hand. His hair was perfectly slicked under his jauntily set black top hat, which he never failed to remove in the presence of females, whether they were withered matrons or girls in pinafores. Language that was less than reverent never left his lips. He bowed and smiled kindly, when giving his coat to the coat check girl, who giggled and blushed nearly to apoplexy every time he visited her window. The other girls envied and pitied her. Certainly she had the pleasure of brushing his hand as she took his coat, but she made a complete ninny of herself every time he came near.

Erik was not so impressed by the boy who appeared to be only a year or two his junior. He regularly attended the Opera, but his bemused or even bored expression during essential movements revealed his ignorance of the art form. Over the years, Erik had observed the elite class from the shadows at balls and galas. He learned their manners, their way of speaking, and their secrets. He knew that to be considered sophisticated and well-educated, a gentleman was required to have a knowledge of and at least a passing interest in the arts.

This boy struck him as the type who mimicked the habits of his betters without understanding why those habits marked them as his betters. When the girls of the opera giggled and blushed over Raoul's handsome face and pretty manners, Erik snorted contemptuously. When Christine joined them, he averted his gaze to avoid the angry nausea that boiled up from his clenched stomach. He said nothing to her of it, assuming that this was one of those times Mme Giry would advise him to remember that "girls must be girlish."

Worse, the deChagnys now held enough of an interest in the Opera Populaire that their whims influenced the manager's decisions. Eric was hard put to it to make sure his "contributions" to the Opera were recognized and valued. He dare not molest the powerful family directly – he had to work through rumors among the staff.

To his relief, the wealthy men were not worried about the "Opera Ghost". As far as they were concerned, the fact that the place had only become more profitable since the reputed 'haunting' began indicated that nothing truly needed to be changed.