There was no sweet memento to remind Erik of their first proper meeting, it was an unforgettable occurrence on its own. His Christine was wholly entranced the entire time as soon as she saw his ghostly figure from behind the mirror and accepted his outstretched, gloved hand. Through the dank, candelabra-lit passageway, Erik could feel her curious stare fixed on him as he continued to sing to her, occasionally turning his head to see Christine's countenance.

In order to reach his hidden lair, Erik first propped his student up onto the white theatre horse Caesar until they reached the underground lake, pausing to get inside the gothic gondola perched upon the bank. In an almost instinctual way, Christine's voice rose to form a duet with the tenor of her teacher as they floated across the lake. Candles were set all along the way, blooming flowers perched from several crevices or were drifting in the water, the rough stoned walls created an echo from their singing. It was like entering a fantasy world with the gateway being Christine's mirror.

Finally reaching their destination, the teacher assisted his student out of the boat and welcomed her to the lair.

She sleepily smiled, "I am glad to have finally met you, Angel."

"As am I, dear girl. This is where I create my music, write those silly letters to the managers, plan various designs for shows, and reside. You can see my model of the stage here, with you standing in the center as the affectionate Juliette in her pure white gown."

"It is stunning." She yawned, slightly embarrassed that she'd done so.

"You must be tired after such a debut, perhaps you should retire to bed..." He suggested.

"Oh no, I've only just come down here-"

"Precisely why I will show you to a room in this home."

"Thank you kindly, monsieur." She sighed, "I sang for you tonight, pouring out my soul with every note...and now I am dead."

He chuckled, "You sung for the heavens and I am truly grateful that you thought of me."

Down the short hallway, Erik opened the only door it led to and showed Christine to the room. His arms were circled over her slight shoulders, seeing that her body was leaning over to once side or another from exhaustion.

"This shall be your bedroom, Christine."

The bedframe was made of thick pewter and formed into the shape of a dove. Plush, red sheets and blankets were tucked over the center of the bed, covering the puffy feather pillows. At this point, his student was practically being carried by his strong arms and he gently placed her among the blankets, her curl-framed head lying softly upon a white, silk pillowcase.

Erik felt guilty admiring Christine in her sleep, finally having seen her face-to-face after several years. Self-doubt crept into his mind though. It was a relief that she hadn't screamed or attempted to pull off the mask, but he presumed that this was due to her sluggish state. To distract his fearful mind, Erik composed through the duration of the night on the piano while his student rested.

The young new diva fluttered her eyes open hours later, unsure of what time it was and where exactly she lay. This was clearly not the simple cast dormitory, and the girl soon remembered her teacher revealing himself that night from behind the dressing room mirror. Everything here was rustic, yet lavish in its own fashion. Christine studied the detailed carving of feathers on her bedframe and the multitude of leather-bound books in the room. In the distance, she heard the echo of a pipe organ.

Intrigue guided Christine down the hallway, her well-trained ears following the unfamiliar melody. It was dark, melancholy, and reminiscent but there was an occasional touch of brightness leading to a building pattern of shimmering trills that resolved into a soft, airy stillness. With each step, the young girl noticed little details of her instructor's home: sheet music lying all over the place, gothic furniture, somber colors, exquisite décor pieces, more of the blooming flowers, hundreds of candles, and books of varying subjects or languages.

"Hello Christine." The comforting voice of her tutor greeted, halting the music he was creating with his hands on the organ.

"Hello. What may I call you? Other than Angel, of course." Christine questioned, suddenly aware that she didn't know his name.

"I suppose all must be revealed now." He sighed, "I am Erik."

She tested the name: "Erik. I believe it is quite fitting to you. What were you playing?"

"An old composition from about ten years ago. It needs some improvement..." the musician's voice quieted as he tested some of the notes on the keyboard.

The brunette was at his side, peering over to the top of the instrument to see his music. Her mind was burning with questions, most prominently towards Erik's face. Unknowingly, she reached her hands up discreetly towards the masked side and watched, entranced by the sight of him, as she pulled off his porcelain mask.

This was when everything stopped- the music, the entrancement, the stillness, and both of their heartbeats.

"Damn you! How dare you act upon such vicious, meddlesome desires! What a prying Pandora we have here, too eager to stop herself!" Erik shouted in a monstrous tone Christine hadn't heard before.

She was shoved to the ground, Erik fearing that she would no longer wish to be his pupil after seeing the distortion of his face. But the girl barely had half a second to even see anything, only noticing that the usually covered half wasn't identical to the other. Perhaps there was some frailer skin beside his red cheek and his amber eye seemed more sunken-in, but she didn't understand his outburst. His raised voice and maniacal behavior struck fear into her heart, causing tears to well up in her blue eyes.

"See! You cry at the sight of your Erik for his true appearance. He is not the angel you dreamt of, but a corpse! And this is merely Erik's face!" He exclaimed, a frightening grin stretching over his thin mouth.

He didn't face her, likely from a shred of hope believing that she truly hadn't seen enough of his ugliness to make her run away. Through his self-deprecating thoughts, this seemed highly improbable but it did happen to be the truth of the situation. Christine still only saw his normal side, dimly illuminated by the light of candles.

"Please, Ange! Do not be angry with me, I didn't mean to take off the mask!"

"Then what was your intention?!" He snarled, facing a covered mirror.

"My hands were not being controlled by my mind, I did not wish to remove it without your consent. I did not even see anything, for you have turned away so quickly!" She explained, trying to stop the wavering in her voice.

His head hung lowly, staring down upon the ground as if wondering whether to believe her or not. Surely, had she seen such a horror, innocent little Christine would've jumped into the lake to get away from him. Yes, this must've been the case for the girl was still standing fearfully with his object in her small hands. A deafening cloud of silence cloaked the atmosphere, Christine being too afraid of overstepping her boundaries again.

"Give me back my mask." He uttered finally.