Before the afternoon was anywhere close to being over, Christine was beginning to think that the maid who'd earlier wished her luck was right to do so. Never before had she met – let alone attended – a woman more overbearing and self-centered as Carlotta Giudicelli. From the moment Christine had returned to the inside of the Opera House, carrying Carlotta's train and receiving the curious stares of onlookers – while Carlotta ordered them out of the way – she'd let out a sigh as she was already second-guessing her word to Madame Giry. And even more so when she and the new prima donna arrived in the dressing room.

Apparently the woman didn't know how to remove her own belongings from her own person. Christine had had to take Carlotta's gloves off and remove her hat – in the most careful way possible lest she leave one hair out of place – and all the while Carlotta complained like a bratty child who clearly didn't know the rules of social etiquette. In fact, as far as Christine was concerned, small children knew more about social etiquette than this woman did. Even so, she continued to do as Carlotta said, as carefully, and quickly, as possible. In trying to think of any positives, all she could really think of was that there was only one of Carlotta, and not two insufferable stepsisters as was the case with Cendrillon, whom Christine was already beginning to empathize with.

Only when Carlotta dismissed her so the former could go practice in one of the rehearsal rooms did Christine feel like she could breathe again. Her eyes, which were starting to feel startlingly dull lit up again when she saw Meg hastened toward her, though the look on Meg's face told her that her friend feared saying the wrong thing. "Um," she started off slowly and awkwardly, "I suppose Signorina Carlotta is proving a bit difficult?"

Grateful to have something to laugh at, if only slightly, Christine chuckled but then frowned again as she replied, "More than a bit difficult." She then noticed though that there were people within earshot. Not wanting whatever she said to be heard by the wrong ears, Christine signed to Meg to keep her voice down as they talked. When Meg seemed to understand, Christine continued. "As far as I'm concerned, the woman has the personality and bearing of a battle-axe!"

"Well, in all fairness," Meg said, still slightly nervous, "what were you expecting, exactly?"

Christine could only shrug her shoulders and sigh. "Yes, I know prima donnas are – for lack of a better word – delicate to handle, but I'm already starting to fear I'll go mad if I merely stand around her long enough!"

"Well, if anything, she's certainly a sight to behold," Meg admitted. "I for one pity whatever poor man ends up being foolish enough to marry her. Other than her attractiveness and soprano specialty, he'll find himself sorely deceived."

Christine lowered her voice even further as she then said, "Truth be told, I'm wondering how she'll be able to sing at all, given how tight her stay-lacings appear!"

The two girls then giggled mischievously at the slightly naughty joke. Christine normally wouldn't have been inclined to speak so. But given how Carlotta was already beginning to drive her crazy, she couldn't resist.

Meg's face softened though as she truly started thinking about her friend's situation. "In any event, I can tell you're having second thoughts about what you promised Maman. Don't try to tell me otherwise!"

"No, I won't," Christine shook her head in defeat. "But one of the most important things I've learned in all my years is that you shouldn't make promises you can't keep. And this is a promise I fully intend to keep, no matter how unbearable it might get."

"Very well," Meg sighed in disbelief. "But you can't tell me I didn't try to warn you and persuade you to abandon it."

Smirking as she felt a challenge in her friend's voice, Christine asked in jest, "And why would I do that? Where would the suspense of the whole situation be otherwise?"

The two of them chuckled together again, until Meg spoke her mind. "Must we continue to keep our voices down though? I think it's time we discussed something else."

"I was just going to say so," Christine nodded, having already thought of something else to talk about. "What do you think the new theater owners and the new patron will be like?"

Now it was Meg's turn to shrug her shoulders. "I'm afraid I have no idea," she admitted. "Though I daresay I will be surprised if any of them turn out to be anything other than rude and stuffy old men."

Christine chuckled again at the joke Meg had already made earlier that day. "Well, your guess is as good as mine, I suppose." Then, after thinking it over for a moment, she smiled sneakily as she added, "Although, they can't truly be any worse than Signorina prima donna, can they?"

Meg laughed a bit, trying to draw herself in only when she saw a couple people nearby. "No, I suppose not!" she giggled. Her smile fell slightly though as she further said, "At least, I hope that won't be the case."

Feeling the need to comfort her friend, Christine gave her a pat on the shoulder. "Oh come now," she said, "no need to be all fretful. I'm sure Monsieurs Debienne and Poligny know what they're doing. They're not going to hand the home of the Paris Opera over to just anyone!"

Right then though, Meg put an arm out to stop Christine, hissing, "Wait!"

Christine frowned in confusion. "What is it?" she asked in bewilderment.

"Look around you," Meg replied. "What do you see?" But Christine was already looking around. Everyone they came across seemed to be moving about frantically with rather nervous expressions on their faces, as if…as if someone, or some people, very important were about to arrive.

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Christine exclaimed. "They can't have come already!" It seemed clear enough though that they were at least about to, especially when Madame Giry suddenly came into view, yet walked right past the girls as if she hadn't seen them.

Christine was about to call out to her, to ask what was going on, when Meg quietly yet firmly shushed her. "She might not let us see!" she quickly explained. "And I for one am eager to see!"

"But won't we get caught at some point?" Christine asked. "It'll be like eavesdropping, won't it?"

"Leave it all to me," Meg replied, smiling a rather sly smile, almost like that of a skull.

Though Christine still didn't like it, neither could she deny that she too was more than a bit curious. If anything, getting an idea of who these new men were would give her more of an idea of how to make a good impression. As long as Madame Giry didn't see her and Meg anyway. Reluctantly yet bravely, Christine stayed beside Meg as they quietly followed the ballet mistress's path, while staying a safe enough distance away. And all the while, her heart beat faster with every step, not just at hoping they wouldn't get caught, but also in a growing anxiety at wanting to know just what kind of people these new men were, if they were going to be the new owners and managers of the Opera House.

After having managed to follow Madame Giry all the way to the grand staircase, Meg and Christine kept hidden just behind the corridor leading to one of the first hallways. Only when the older woman began her descent down the stars did the two girls begin to emerge from their hiding place. From what they were already beginning to see, a sizable gathering was beginning to form at the base of the staircase. Christine and Meg started scanning the small crowd for any familiar faces.

"Look!" Meg pointed. "There are Monsieurs Debienne and Poligny." Christine was surprised at first, considering the two of them didn't see the pair of theatre managers all that often. But once she looked where Meg was pointing, it didn't take her long to make out the two older men being approached by Madame Giry.

"And what about those two men over there?" Meg pointed again. "Could they be the new owners?" Christine once again looked where her friend was pointing, and saw another pair of men, though a bit younger than Debienne and Poligny, whom they were standing near to.

But just then, Christine caught sight of another face. One that was also masculine, but even younger than the four men she'd already seen…and far more familiar. Though she hadn't seen this particular likeness in a good long while, it didn't take long for Christine to recognize the person to whom it belonged, nor for her to let out a gasp of excited realization. "Christine?" Meg said once she'd heard her. But Christine didn't hear her. Her attention was solely focused on the combination of dark, finely combed hair and handsome blue eyes that went all too well with the boyish smile on his face.

It cannot be! Christine thought. But even as she thought so, she already knew it was. She already knew who this young man was. And why would she not, given all the years they'd spent together? Forgetting she needed to stay hidden and paying no heed to the people at the bottom of the staircase, Christine let out a slight yet thrilled cry before dashing down the stairs toward the young man she was not at all expecting but more than happy to see.

"Raoul!" she called out to him, already a bit breathless. "Is it really you?!"

The young man immediately looked up, and upon seeing her, his eyes too lit up with recognition. "Christine!" he exclaimed, hastening forward to see her.

The two enthusiastically embraced each other like a pair of loving, long-separated siblings – which, in a sense, they were – and both laughed in delight. "Oh, Raoul! I-I just can't believe it!" Christine stammered with excitement. "What on earth are you doing here?!"

His eyes smiled brightly as he chuckled, "Well, I wanted it to be a surprise! And I suppose I've succeeded!"

Christine couldn't help but laugh again, until one of the two younger men she'd seen just a moment ago cleared his throat and spoke up. "If I may, Viscount, just who is this…charming young lady?" Christine froze; and though they tried to hide it, she could hear some people nearby chuckling. Her face turned as red as Carlotta's hair, making her feel on fire with mortification.

"Oh, good heavens, I'm so sorry!" she said softly before backing away one step, then two, away from Raoul. Turning toward the four other men, yet not daring to look at them, she addressed them with an embarrassed voice, "I beg your pardon, Monsieurs. I-I–"

"Oh no, please, Christine," Raoul suddenly interrupted her. "No need to trouble yourself." Hearing the compassion in his voice started to make her feel better, if only slightly. Now, addressing the other men as well, Raoul added, "Gentlemen, allow me to introduce a very good friend of mine, Mademoiselle Christine Daaé."

Christine gave an impulsive yet awkward curtsy, though she was gaining the courage to actually look up at them as she softly said, "My pleasure, Monsieurs–"

They must not have heard her, because one of the newer men interrupted her. "Daaé? Intriguing name, I must say. Are you perhaps a relation to the late violinist, Mademoiselle? Gustave Daaé, was it?"

As he spoke, Christine was finally able to get a good look at him and his partner. While they were certainly older than Raoul, they were also certainly younger than Debienne and Poligny, their hair starting to gray but not by much. One was slightly shorter than the other, a bit inclined toward stoutness, and showing signs of balding. The other by contrast was somewhat tall, even taller than Raoul. Unlike Raoul though, he didn't seem to have as much muscle on him. And unlike his partner, he sported a moustache that was also beginning to gray. Both however, were finely dressed, even more so than Debienne and Poligny – enough to make Christine think they could be quite wealthy – and they both held a hat in one hand and a cane in the other.

There was something else about them too, but Christine pushed the thought aside when she realized he'd spoken to her. "Oh, yes, Monsieur," she nodded. "He was my father." Feeling the need to speak further, she added, "Were it not for Raoul's father, things could have gone in a much different direction for us. A much worse direction, in fact…"

"And that was how we came to know each other, Monsieur," Raoul said further. "Almost fifteen years ago."

Christine let out a soft sigh, both at the realization that it had been almost that long since she and Raoul first met, and at relief that he hadn't mentioned the times they played together. While she would always treasure those days, she didn't exactly want to be known to the two men in front of her as the childhood playmate of Viscount Raoul de Chagny, son of the late Count Philbert de Chagny.

"Indeed," Monsieur Debienne then said. "Neither would we have had the pleasure of housing one of the best violinists we've ever had, if not the best, may he rest in peace." Christine smiled softly at his words, feeling strange comfort at knowing how much the man seemed to esteem her father.

"Pardon my bad manners," Monsieur Poligny suddenly spoke up, "but I believe I've not yet introduced these two fine men with us." Both Raoul and Christine raised their eyebrows in surprise when they realized he hadn't. Standing next to the other pair of men, Poligny said, "Lord Viscount, it is my pleasure to introduce the new managers of the Théâtre National de l'Opéra, Monsieur Richard Firmin and Monsieur Gilles André." He gestured first to the stout man and then to the tall man. Then he gestured toward Raoul and added, "Monsieurs, it is also my pleasure to introduce Viscount Raoul de Chagny, our newest patron."

As Raoul shook hands with Monsieurs Firmin and André, Christine's eyes went wide with surprise. She was so caught off guard she didn't hear Debienne offer the two men a tour around the building, but went immediately to the Viscount once he stopped shaking hands with them. Laying her hand on his forearm, she asked, "Raoul, pardon me but, is this true?"

"Lord Viscount?" Debienne then said, his raised eyebrows asking if he would care to join them.

"Just a moment, gentlemen," Raoul replied. "I won't be long, I promise." He then turned back toward Christine, and offered his arm. Though not expecting it, Christine smiled as she linked her arm with his, and they started forward, not too long behind the four older men.

But she then frowned as she realized she'd forgotten her social etiquette again just now. "Forgive me, Raoul, but–"

"Oh no, it's no trouble at all," Raoul stopped her, still smiling at her. "In fact, I was expecting you to ask me about it."

"But I had no idea that you were going to be the new patron of the Opera House!" Christine said, slowly regaining her smile. "Why didn't you tell…" She trailed off as realization dawned on her, and she further said, "Oh I see, this was part of your surprise, wasn't it?"

"Yes, it was!" Raoul chuckled as he replied. Shortly after though, his grin quickly fell, and he added, "Truth be told, though, I've returned to Paris and have accepted this offer for a much more serious reason."

"I was just going to ask," Christine raised her eyebrows at him. "The last time I heard from you, you were studying in America. I thought you wouldn't be returning until next year."

Raoul's expression grew heavier, more so than Christine ever remembered, and it made her frown with concern. After giving a small sigh, Raoul replied, "I don't know whether or not you've heard about this, but…" He closed his eyes briefly, as if trying to bear a burden that Christine was now longing to relieve him of, before he opened them again and finished his sentence. "My brother, Philippe…has died."

Christine let out a light gasp once the words left his lips. Her heart went out to him immediately, knowing that, while titled and certainly wealthier than she'd ever been, that didn't prevent Raoul from experiencing tragedy, and now, perhaps more than she. While she had lost her parents early on in life, Raoul had also lost his – first his mother, seven years ago, and then his father, three years ago – and now his only brother as well. The only remaining members of his immediate family now were his two older sisters. Already, Christine felt immense compassion for him at having to lose three family members in such a short amount of time.

"Oh, Raoul," she breathed. "I'm so dreadfully sorry, I had no idea!" But before Raoul could excuse her for such, Christine asked, "How long ago, if I may ask?"

Raoul looked slightly toward the floor as he replied gravely, "Little more than six weeks ago. I received the news by telegram about a week later."

For about a quarter of a minute after, the two of them remained silent, not knowing what to say to the other, until Raoul finally decided to speak again. "I immediately returned once I received the telegram. While I did miss the funeral, I had learned that Philippe had received an offer to provide patronage for the Opera House, and so I accepted it for him."

Though Christine felt sorry that the young man had to miss his own brother's funeral, her eyes lit up in admiration at his willingness to take up such a responsibility on Philippe's behalf. But just then, her face showed a confused frown. "That was so kind of you, Raoul. And yet, pardon me but, it doesn't make sense, that he would just suddenly d–" Not willing to even say it so baldly, Christine modified her words. "That he would just suddenly, pass away, I mean. You've known him much longer and better than I, of course, but in all the years I've known him, he never seemed to me as one prone to frequent illness." Unless one counted Philippe's inclination to drink, but she didn't say.

"Oh, you're right about that," Raoul agreed, his face starting to lighten a bit again. "It was nothing of that sort. No…" His eyes started drifting away from her, until it seemed he forced himself to look back at Christine. Lowering his voice, he added, "It wasn't illness, but murder."

Christine gasped in shock, but fortunately remembered to lower her own voice in time before asking, "Murder?!"

Raoul nodded grimly, his once bright eyes now starting to dull. "I wasn't able to see the actual crime scene for myself," he said, "but I did see a photograph and read the autopsy report." He pressed his lips together, as though hesitating, before finally saying, "The evidence suggests he was strangled. Though, that's putting it mildly, I'm afraid."

Although she wasn't one to easily faint over such talk, Christine began to feel a bit sick, and even then, not so much at what Raoul was saying, but at how heavily she knew this must be weighing on him. To have something like that happen to your own brother… And he was so bright and cheerful just a moment ago.

Hoping she didn't appear pale-faced, Christine quickly recovered her voice. "I-I see. And…was the perpetrator ever caught?"

Raoul shook his head. "Not as of yet, unfortunately," he replied. "However, I do believe I know who did it, or at least have an idea."

Christine's dark eyebrows shot up in curiosity. "Who?!" she asked eagerly, a little too much, she just then realized.

"That's the problem," Raoul answered her. "I believe I know who committed the crime, but not his actual identity." Seeing Christine's confused expression, he became rather confused himself and asked, "Surely you must have heard of it by now?" She shook her head, and Raoul sighed in exasperation, though not at her. "Allow me to explain, then," he said. "It's been going on just under this past year; to my knowledge, at least. A series of crimes – numbering half a dozen – all similar to one another in some way. All of them robberies; all of them committed against wealthy magnates or nobility; all of them occurred in or around Paris…and while this last factor isn't always consistent, it's not unusual for at least one person to be found dead at the scene…by garroting."

Christine, having listened intently to everything he said, gasped suddenly at the last sentence. Her neck actually began to hurt slightly once he mentioned this person's method of killing…and it sent a chill through her. She'd heard about this way of execution that went beyond mere strangling, often carried out with a device if not just like then similar to a cane with a rope attached to it, the latter being used to wrap around the victim's neck until the life was quite literally choked out of them. It was something so feared that even the police had been adding special collars to their uniforms so as to not be victims themselves.

Thankfully, Raoul seemed to give Christine awhile to allow it all to sink in, until she was able to say the only words that would willingly pass her lips. "So this man is a robber-murderer?"

"Yes," Raoul nodded. "He's believed to be acting alone, although I wouldn't be surprised if any accomplices are eventually discovered."

"But he himself hasn't been caught yet?" Christine asked.

"No," Raoul shook his head again. "He cleverly disguises himself, so neither his name nor his likeness are known. Truthfully, the only evidence to go on is the sound of his voice."

Christine frowned. "Odd," she remarked. "But why his voice? Don't most men's voices sound similar to the other?"

Raoul chuckled slightly before he replied, "Mostly." His frown then returned though before he added, "But not this man's voice, or so I've been told."

"What are you talking about?" Christine asked, still eager to know yet perplexed at all the missing pieces in this case.

"This might sound odd at first," Raoul said, "but it's another common factor plaguing all these robberies." He paused for a moment, then added, "He apparently likes to distract those at the scenes of his crimes by singing."

Christine's eyes widened with interest. "Singing?" she asked. "A rather…unconventional method, I must say."

"Indeed," Raoul agreed. "Yet according to reports, this man's singing voice has been described as haunting and ghostlike. But other than that, most have described it as beautiful beyond words. And it's because of that that he's gained the police codename of the Angel."

Christine frowned as she began taking all that in. Though it was somewhat silly upon first hearing, it quickly became a rather diabolical combination in her opinion: a man who sings like an angel yet not only steals but also murders like a devil.

"He has already robbed Firmin and André twice," Raoul then said. "And based on the recent evidence, particularly the manner in which he died, it seems my brother was his latest victim."

Once he said so, it was as though realization had hit Christine like a runaway carriage. Her dear friend's brother had been met with an even more terrible fate than she first thought…at the hand of a garrotter. "Good heavens, Raoul…" she breathed, hardly knowing at all what to say. "I…I can't even begin to imagine…"

And yet once she looked directly back at him once more, she knew she was not imagining what she then saw. A person ten feet away and just glancing at Raoul probably wouldn't notice. But Christine was right next to him and knew him so well, that she could spot the veiled hatred that hid in his eyes. So that was how he was able to hide such dreadful news from her for a time. He'd already been venting about it for awhile, ever since he'd first heard it for himself five weeks ago, and apparently in that short amount time had also learned how to hide it. Yet it still alarmed Christine now that she knew, now that she'd seen that the lively, carefree boy she'd first met years ago had become a man filled with such anger – righteous though it may be – that he seemed quite firmly set on getting his revenge.

"I appreciate your concern Christine," he then said, his voice showing no sign of the hatred she'd just seen. "But you needn't worry about me." Raoul suddenly looked around, as if searching for anyone who might overhear, and when he felt sure they were safe, he dropped his voice low and added, "I've agreed to become an informant for the police."

Christine's eyes went wide again, but Raoul didn't stop there. He started looking ahead, like a dog that had sniffed out a rabbit's trail. And as was the case with his eyes, there was a faint but still evident hint of anger in his still low voice as he said, "I for one will personally track down this vicious vagabond if I must. And I look forward to the day when I finally see this so-called Angel and any accomplices in chains; or better yet, with a rope around their necks…"

Christine felt a big swallow travel down her throat. She understood completely – or rather as much as she could – the position Raoul was in. Had someone she loved been murdered in such a barbaric way, she would be just as furious and hungry for justice. Yet for all the time she'd known him, she couldn't recall ever having seen the Viscount as alarmingly angry as he was right now. If they weren't already fearing for themselves, she was already beginning to fear for whoever had committed this most heinous of crimes against him, if it was at all possible for her to have such feelings toward such a person.

Before she could say anything else to Raoul, however, Christine was suddenly approached by one of the housemaids. And judging by the nervous look on her face, she already had an idea of what she was going to tell her.

"Christine!" she exclaimed as though out of breath. Had she had to run to get here? "Pardon me but, your assistance is required, upstairs." The young woman pointed behind herself and up as she spoke. Whether or not she had thought not to let Raoul hear that she was Carlotta Giudicelli's personal maid, Christine was grateful nonetheless.

"Of course," she nodded. But she then stopped and said, "Oh, one moment, please!" She turned back to Raoul and chose her words carefully, given the limited amount of time she had. "Raoul, if we don't meet again today, then I must say that, although I am dreadfully, dreadfully sorry about your loss, it truly has been delightful to see you again after so long."

"And to you, Christine," Raoul smiled again after what previously felt like an eternity. "Truly, seeing you again has made my return to Paris all the more worth it."

Now beaming at his words, Christine smiled widely at him and waved before saying, "Au revoir!" She then hastened away with the maid, already starting to feel anxious at having to face Carlotta again, but Christine was determined not to let it overwhelm her much as it had earlier, now that she'd seen Raoul again.

Nevertheless, keeping such a vow still proved to be somewhat difficult by the time Christine was helping Carlotta down the stairs. Once again, she was carrying the prima donna's train, and once again, she was having to suffer Carlotta's borderline insufferable attitude.

"I can't believe I wasn't informed the moment they arrived!" she snarled in a rather unladylike manner. "Does this Opera House really have such a lazy staff! Deplorable!"

Christine sighed and did her best not to roll her eyes, since doing so would've just made her more annoyed. And as much as she tried not to actually listen to the batty woman, her ears were nonetheless subjected to her shrill voice.

"I am going to give these men a piece of my mind as soon as I see them!" she spat. "I do hope this new managing arrangement will prove to actually be worthwhile!"

Christine briefly raised her eyebrows in surprise, for she had found herself hoping the same thing, if for different reasons. But all thoughts of that were quickly drowned out by even more of Carlotta's drivel.

"And I do hope I am at least presentable!" she exclaimed. "It would be the most horrid thing if I appeared in front of them without any rouge!"

Spoken like a woman of intentional ill-repute, Christine thought. Truly, though she didn't like to dwell on such things, she would hardly be surprised if this woman had had more than one lover, or even multiple lovers at once. Then again, considering Carlotta was reminding her of the titular Shrew of William Shakespeare's famed play, perhaps she would be at least a little bit surprised.

Only then did she realize that they had at last come to the bottom of the stairs. Christine felt relief, if marginal, flow through her. Now all they had to do was go around the backstage and, hopefully, the men from earlier would be waiting in the theatre.

As they made their way through the forest of props, vanity mirrors, electrical lighting systems, and backdrops, Christine was already beginning to pity them now that they were about to meet their newest, yet most insufferable, prima donna. Monsieurs Firmin and André, and even Raoul, might do a little bit of reconsidering as far as she was concerned. But just then, thinking of Raoul made her feel an embarrassed blush rise to her cheeks. For a moment, she had even started wishing Raoul hadn't come here today. Truly, if the woman whose train she still carried could make her feel such, then she very much made a mistake in accepting Madame Giry's offer. And yet, in the end, Christine still couldn't find it in her heart to let the motherly ballet mistress down.

At that moment though, it became perfectly clear that something else had been let down.

With a flinch, Christine heard the sound of a heavy rope snapping, then two. She looked up in the direction of the noise, and her eyes widened and her heart began to pound with fear when she saw one of the folded backdrops was soon to fall. Though she may not have liked Carlotta, Christine still cried out, "Signorina!" Dropping the woman's train as she did so, she rushed to her side and snatched her toward her, away from where she knew the backdrop would otherwise hit them. Less than a second later, she felt the floor shake as a very, very heavy load slammed onto the ground with an incredibly loud and even more frightening THUD! Rather than scream as she then heard Carlotta do, Christine only let out a squeak as she lost her footing and tumbled to the floor.

Though she didn't immediately feel any pain, a ringing noise filled her ears as she literally felt as though she'd been knocked witless, right out of her senses. As much as she wanted to open her eyes, it seemed they wanted to remain closed. For a moment, she thought she was hearing the theatre being filled with the shrieks and yells of both men and women. A blur of a moment after, she thought she was hearing someone calling her name, in a voice she recognized. With all her willpower, Christine forced her eyes to open. At first, her vision was blurry, but it quickly came back into focus once she saw a familiar looking man rushing toward her.

"Christine!" he shouted. She then became aware of him kneeling next to her and gently but firmly grasping her arms above her elbows. "Christine! Speak to me! Are you all right?!"

Christine's senses must have returned instantly to her, for she found herself wanting to reassure him. Again mustering all her willpower, she let out a moan as she then attempted to lift herself up, succeeding in getting only halfway up, so Raoul pulled her the rest of the way until she was sitting up. "Don't worry!" she insisted once she found her voice, though breathless. "Don't worry about me! Just a bit shocked, and rattled, that's all."

"A bit more than a bit, I'd say," Raoul chuckled, not in amusement but in relief. The concern then returned to his voice as he asked, "But, are you hurt anywhere? Can you stand?"

Answering his first question then his second, Christine replied, "No, I'm not hurt. But I might need some help to stand."

"Of course," Raoul nodded. Once again taking her by the arms both firmly and gently, he slowly and carefully pulled her up, until, before she knew it, she was on her own two feet again. Though only briefly, she managed to glimpse the immense distress on his face before he pulled her again, this time into a hug. While still slightly dizzy, Christine quickly returned it, more than grateful to have been assisted by the most honorable young man she knew.

"Are you sure you're all right?" he asked again once they ended their embrace.

This time, it was Christine's turn to chuckle, if not laugh. "Yes, Raoul! Yes!" she smiled brightly at him.

Raoul's face which once bore much fear for her now returned her smile in great relief. He looked toward the left, beyond which was the main stage, and said, "Good, though I'm not quite sure if she is."

Christine looked in the same direction and gasped as she saw Carlotta sprawled on the floor but very much alive, if her loud and shrill screams were any indication. Though Christine felt a surprising amount of pity for the usually rude and vain woman, she couldn't help but chuckle slightly when she saw the woman's train caught behind her…by the very backdrop that had fallen just now. Fortunately, two maids were already tugging it out, while two others were hoisting Carlotta back up on her feet. Once she was, she roughly shoved both women away and walked off, letting out one more shriek. Rather than being from fright, however, this shriek sounded as though it would come from the Queen of Hearts of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, which Christine had read some years ago.

She then looked to Raoul again, and did her best not to laugh when she saw how completely bewildered and alarmed he then looked. "Who…was she?" he managed to ask.

Christine breathed as she finally gained control of herself, and replied, "Signorina Carlotta Giudicelli."

Raoul didn't seem to hear her though, because he then asked, "For that matter, who could've done such a thing as that?"

He pointed up to the now broken ropes that once held the fallen backdrop. And from where the two of them stood, they could tell this was no mere accident. Someone, somehow had cut the ropes intentionally. But who, and for what reason, neither of them knew. Thankfully, however, it seemed no one had been crushed by the backdrop when it fell.

Even so, both of them already had an idea of who the perpetrator might be. But while Raoul made a mental note to inform the authorities of this frightful incident, Christine didn't know if she was overly eager – if at all – to meet anyone dangerous enough to garrote the life out of someone or crush them with a much larger and heavier weapon.

Reviews would be appreciated.