A week of Ruslan and Lyudmila performances had been completed, audiences impressed with the artistry of the opera and especially with the voice of Mademoiselle Daae. Raoul congratulated her endlessly, trying to make up for his brashness about her instructor. The Giry's were overjoyed for the girl's success as well. But things had changed, Christine had to work even harder to perform with the same strength. It was all because of Erik's disappearance.
It was quite noticeable that something was wrong to anyone who knew Christine. She became more isolated, her smiles were false, dark circles formed below her restless eyes, her skin paled even further, she couldn't eat nor sleep, and it took much more effort to sing properly without the inspiration Erik gave her. Meg tried cheering her up, inviting her to outings at extravagant little shops and spending more time with her. It was all to no avail. The girl seemed lifeless.
Madame Giry took notice, asking the soprano if she required anything and deciding to visit the masked man by the end of the week. Given Christine's surprising state, she was sure that he would be faring much worse. He hadn't even sent messages to the managers about the next production meant to take place after the last performance of Ruslan and Lyudmila. There weren't any comments on the talent of his student's work.
The ballet mistress made her way down to the dank, cold cellars with a lantern in hand to illuminate the stone walls. She stepped carefully over the small puddles of water then found herself at the shore of the lake, stepping into the gondola. As it was on this side of the lake, perhaps Erik left his home. But Madame Giry had to see the vacant house to ensure so.
Unexpectedly, her stern green eyes caught sight of Erik's skeletal body lying on the floor beside his home as she reached the opposite bank of the lake. He was neither awake nor asleep, the mask slanting sideways off his face and some strange objects on the ground. Upon investigation, the woman identified them as utensils for administering morphine to oneself. The melodramatic man's eyes were half-open and he seemed to barely be breathing. His pitiful state angered Madame Giry.
She grabbed his arm, pulling him up onto a nearby chair into a seated position. His eyes opened fully and glared at the woman, feeling a dreadful headache of withdrawal forming.
"How dare you!" She shouted, making him wince at the volume of her voice.
"What have I done now?" Erik chuckled bitterly.
"Used morphine, of course! Mon Dieu, you are a self-harming wreck and so careless of others! Can you even imagine how awful your student is feeling at your apparent disappearance?"
"That girl is likely waltzing around with her boyishly brash fop, just as before. Except now, there's no fear that her menacing teacher will intrude."
"You fool! I will take you to see her- then you'll see how utterly joyful she is!" She exclaimed sarcastically.
"I don't know what you're speaking of. My being her tutor was a horrible mistake and Christine is better off without me controlling her."
"Erik, no one could ever control Christine. She is a stubborn girl who chose to obey you, even after knowing of your true form. Perhaps it was the wrong way of going about things, but somehow she needs you."
"Somehow" He repeated mockingly.
"Yes. You deceived her, threatened people she knew, and tried forcing her to do as you wished. Any ordinary person who didn't care for you wouldn't be so lost without you."
"You're trying to be kind and drag me out of this state. Well, I won't be abandoning my morphine as long as I live, which hopefully won't be much longer now."
"Alright, but I am not one to exaggerate the truth. Christine has been much worse over this week than ever before."
He groaned in agony, what sweet wishful thinking it was! His Christine missing him! It couldn't be, he was too monstrous for such a thing. Surely, even if he did return, the girl would clearly be agitated at his disappearance. Erik considered lying to her again, a common excuse in his world, and tell her that he had business to attend to outside of the Populaire. But that wouldn't be the honorable thing to do. After all, she seemed to prefer honorable men anyways.
Madame Giry continued despite his silence, "Has your other friend visited you lately?"
"No, I sealed the entryway he comes from a fortnight ago. Besides, he informed me that he has left on an apparent well-deserved holiday."
"No matter, you must dress and prepare yourself. I cannot stand seeing both of you sulking around like the undead. Collect yourself over the next week or I will inform Christine myself of what you've really been doing."
"Damn you!" He snarled, "Deliver my Don Juan to the managers, it will entertain the possibility of my existence and must be performed next. It is my life's work, written for Christine to sing and only when it is performed will I return to the girl."
"Fine, but I must hold you against harming anyone."
"We have an accord. What do you want from me anyways?! You're tormenting me."
"What do you want with Christine? You say she is your muse yet you push away from her constantly."
"The truth? I can't stand to be near her anymore! She is not a mere child anymore, definitely not, and seeing her so willing leaves me aching to rip apart whatever garbs she is wearing then take her. Is that what you wanted to hear?!"
"Maintain some dignity, Erik. You may dress in gentlemen's evening clothes, but you don't act the part of a gentlemen. I shall force you away from the girl if you ever speak to me in such a way, drugged or not."
"Ha, dignity. As if a murderer, extortionist, and deceiver would have any of that."
"Our deal remains the same. You have 3 weeks, Erik."
Erik groaned in response, and also in sheer pain of his entire body going through withdrawal. He leaned against the wall for support, glaring up at Madame Giry. The woman revealed no pity for his condition and walked off to find an exit path, leaving him alone once again in the darkness.
His ill mind thought of nothing but Christine: her dancing, the kindness of her heart, her constant compassion, her innocence, the disorder of her curly hair, rosy pink blush that appeared when she was flushed, her dedication towards music, and her voice. The girl was pure ecstasy to him, the only thing that relieved his morphine aches. It would be torture to see her as his Don Juan's Amnita- the picture of a virginal maiden who longed for the Don's love.
A well-executed and detailed plan had to be constructed for their reuniting. Erik wanted to catch his student by surprise, likely in a most dramatic method but without exposing his true identity to the audience. Perhaps he could stage an incident to appear on-stage with her. After all, it was written for the two of them to sing together. Any other voices simply wouldn't do.
There was so much that could go wrong! What if Erik waited too long? Would Christine abandon the thought of her tutor returning? It was likely her next choice was that blasted Vicomte. The masked man could turn into absolute madness on his own, but his violent tendencies suggested a potential murder. Then, of course, his student wouldn't be returning to him anyways. The effects of the morphine wore off in such a stressful state of things, leaving Erik to anxiously plot in his lair.