The Opera Populaire hosted a production of Faust once every year, one week after the glamorous masquerade ball, a tradition that drew many of the finest performers and patrons of the arts together for a night of high-brow revelry. For nearly fifteen years, La Carlotta played the lead role of Marguerite. Many whispered that if she continued in the role, the tradition would have to end for the sake of the patrons' well-being. With no viable replacement, and no desire to confront the volatile diva, the managers felt helpless. Increasingly annoyed letters from the Phantom of the Opera further enflamed an already uncomfortable situation.

My Dear Messieurs,

The screechings of that woman torment me. She may be suitable for a role as a grandmother or servant woman, but she is no longer a diva. See that you find some replacement for her before opening night. If you cannot do so, she may develop serious health problems, requiring the cancellation of the entire event. We would not want an epidemic on our hands.

Thank you for your prompt (as always) payment of my salary.

Your Obedient Servant,

The Opera Ghost.

"He cannot be serious. Does he not know that no suitable replacements have auditioned? Pierre, this is not our fault!" M. Debienne wrung his hands. Since his very frightening encounter in the theatre, he had been most solicitous of M. le Phantom's wishes. Sometimes he started awake in the middle of night, the sensation of a velvet rope across his throat a fleeting nightmare.

M. Poligny peered at his anxious coadjutor. Though he sympathized with the man's fear of the Opera Ghost, he did not think the Phantom's threats were their primary problem. Their diva's voice was failing, there truly was no replacement in sight, and the annual ticket sales were slumping lower with each passing year. They could host orchestra nights occasionally to showcase the work of popular composers, but they were an opera house. If they did not find a new leading lady before rehearsals of Faust began, this year's production would likely be a wash; something the new owners might take exception to, which would prove fatal to the careers of the administrators responsible.

"Calm yourself, Francois. We will hold open auditions. Surely there will be someone capable of singing Margeurite passably."

"Open auditions for the leading lady's role in Faust? It will be a scandal! La Carlotta will be furious." M. Debienne was not a brave man; he abhorred confrontation. The diva had always frightened him with her violent temper tantrums that often involved breaking porcelain and flying footwear.

"Have you a better alternative?" asked M. Poligny irritably. "If so then…"

He was interrupted by an echoing voice that sent both managers cowering behind their desks.

"I think, Messieurs, that open auditions are an excellent idea. You may come out from hiding. I am not here to harm you, but to give you notice. If you can produce a suitable soprano for me, in two years I will give you in return an opera that will justify every cent you have paid me over the years, not counting the numerous services I have done you. This is a promise. If you cannot produce such a voice, I will have you replaced. This is also a promise. Good evening gentlemen"

Silence persisted in the large office for several minutes. Before either man felt safe to speak, they each had time to consider their salaries, their health, and their comfortable positions in the Paris opera world. They had time to scrutinize each other accusingly, as if the Phantom's intrusion was solely the responsibility of the other.

"Well," M. Poligny cleared his throat and attempted to sound authoritative. "I suppose that seals it. Open auditions this Friday, no comer turned away."

M. Debienne huffed indignantly. "If M. le Phantom wants to justify his salary, why doesn't he find a soprano?"

"Shhh, Francois! Do you wish to bring him down on our heads?" M. Poligny looked around as though the Ghost could be seen floating in any corner.

Inside the passageway behind the office walls, Erik laughed into his sleeve. For all the headaches they caused him, these two managers were an excellent source of amusement. Why didn't he find them a soprano? I found her, trained her, and now they want me to deliver her. On a silver platter, preferably. What do they do to justify their salaries, I'd like to know! He threw his cape over his shoulder and sauntered down through the passageways and through the labyrinth he had finally completed that obscured the path to his home.

Once there, he sat down to his desk and began carefully writing the overture of the opera that now played continuously in his mind. He had composed many pieces, but none of this magnitude, nothing that gripped him in an iron fist of obsession quite like this. It was written specifically to the possibilities of two voices - his and Christine's. It would take him at least the two years he had promised the managers, and it would be magnificent.

News of the open auditions spread like wildfire through the Opera. M. Debienne was right; it was a scandal. La Carlotta was at the managers' door within five minutes of the posting. She did not bother with knocking. She barged in, her shoe in hand, already screeching – one fo the 'bad habits' that had ruined her voice.

"How is this? How is this? There are no auditions for the Faust! I am Margeurite! You will take that sign down now, or I will leave this Opera, never to return!" She hurled her shoe at M. Debienne, who was alone in the office. He dodged, and she began unbuckling her other shoe.

"Madame! Madame, please! Calm yourself. It is…it is the order of the new owners, and no decision of mine. You must attend the audition, sing only a little bit, and I am sure the role will be yours, as always." He bowed and scraped, trying to maneuver himself to the door. He slipped out the door and closed it behind him in time to avoid her shoe, but not her parting words.

"La Carlotta does not audition!"