Thanks again to DP1014 for helping me with this chapter and reminding me that European dates are different from American dates! :) Please enjoy. ;)
Palais Garnier, Spring 1884
Meg paused in front of the door to the opera managers' office, hand lifted to knock on the wooden door. Should I knock? she thought. The former managers, Firmin Richard and Armand Moncharmin, had long since left the opera business, leaving these new managers in charge for the last three years. The current managers had arrived after the events regarding the Opera Ghost and Christine Daae and probably didn't know about the Persian. Although, Meg thought, there might be some old documents on the former eccentric opera-goer.
Suddenly with a creak the wooden door opened and Meg's decision was made for her. In the doorway stood one of the managers, Édouard Rochefort, as impeccable as ever. Rochefort was a man of average height and slender frame with soft blue eyes, who always presented himself with his dark brown hair neatly, combed back, a well-groomed mustache and a fine suit.
"What are you doing out here, Mademoiselle?" Rochefort asked. "Are you going to come in?" The manager widened the door and beckoned for her to enter.
Meg peered around as she stepped into the office. There were disheveled stacks of papers on the elongated desk, half-melting candles that illuminated the room, books on shelves, and lounging on a chair was the Opera House's second manager, Jean-Pierre Peletier. Unlike Rochefort, Peletier appeared unkempt and exhausted. His disheveled light-brown hair contained streaks of white, and his greenish brown eyes had dark rings under them.
"You see, Mademoiselle, we've been busy these days..." Rochefort trailed off as he cast a glance at Peletier, who stood up from his chair. Peletier brushed imaginary crumbs off his creased suit and turned to look at Meg.
"Are you Mademoiselle Giry?" Peletier inquired. "The best dancer in the ballet corps?" Meg nodded in response. Peletier then asked,"What brings you here?"
"Messieurs," Meg began hesitantly, "I was hoping you two would know something about an opera regular from three years ago. He was known as the Persian." Meg paused, waiting for a response. What if they don't know anything? Then the lead would be lost. She could find another lead, but it would be difficult… Meg's thoughts were interrupted by Rochefort.
"Yes, yes. I believe the old managers, Messieurs Richard and Moncharmin, mentioned a strange operagoer known only as the Persian," Rochefort said as he shuffled through a stack of documents on the desk. "We may still have some papers on him… Peletier, don't tell me you got rid of those papers!" he said as Peletier moved towards the desk.
"I'll… I'll… Rochefort, don't threaten me like that—I—I—they're probably somewhere in here," Peletier stuttered as he turned toward a pile of papers that looked just like any other pile. He rifled through the papers and after what felt like hours to Meg, pulled out a document that looked just like any other document. "I think this may be it, Rochefort, a document from three years ago. An interview between The Managers of the Opera-House and the Opera-goer known as The Persian, dated 12 April 1881."
Rochefort snatched the document from Peletier's hands. "Let me look at that. Mademoiselle, this document might give us some information about the Persian. I shall read it out loud," Rochefort proclaimed pompously. Meg smiled and moved towards Rochefort.
"I'll just take it to my room and read it there," Meg offered. "I don't want to take up your time. I'll return this document as soon as I'm done with it," she said as she plucked the document from the Rochefort's hands and walked out of the office without another word.
Meg peered at the document before her silently reading it.
RICHARD: Who are you, exactly?
PERSIAN: I am Farhad Askari, an exiled Persian prince.
MONCHARMIN: Do you know anything about the events that have recently occurred at the Opera House, like perhaps the abduction of Christine Daae?
PERSIAN: I know a fair amount of things, but you won't believe me.
RICHARD: Just tell us.
PERSIAN: The person responsible for these happenings is a man named Erik. He has a brilliant mind but he is nowhere near sane. In addition, he wears a mask nearly all of the time to hide his terrible face. I was his friend when he was in Persia, during the rosy hours of Mazenderan. However, he had to leave as he knew too much. I helped him escape, so the Shah-in-Shah sent me into exile and took away my property. However, since I was royalty, I receive a modest pension from the Persian government. I then decided to settle in a small, middle-class flat on the Rue de Rivoli, across the street from the Tuileries. Afterwards, I became a fixture of the Opera House, as you two know. Eventually I learned that Erik lived in the Opera House, but in the cellars. I also found out about his… love for Christine. He claims that he loves her and she loves him, but more likely, he's obsessed with her while she fears him. Eventually, the Vicomte and I traveled into the bowels of the Opera House to find Christine and… Well, long story short, Erik realized that a true lover would let his love be happy, and he let Christine and the Vicomte go. He dropped by my house a while later, and confessed that he was dying. Once he dies, I will be notified and I shall post a notice in the obituary section of L'Epoque.
RICHARD: This account is ridiculous.
PERSIAN: I knew you two wouldn't believe me.
As Meg was read the text, she realized something: the Persian had given away his address! She peered at the text again.
I decided to settle in a small, middle-class flat on the Rue de Rivoli, across the street from the Tuileries.
So there it was! Meg thought with a sigh.
Little did Meg know that she was being watched.