Klara was given a room in the Opera house, courtesy of Luc Richard. Admittedly she would have preferred to rent an apartment as she found the small room in the dancers quarters a little dowdy. Sadly she did not have the funds to afford an apartment in Paris as of yet and she was not about to write home to her parents for money. As it was, she hadn't had much to do with her parents since she became an actress and singer. Life with them on their little farm had been so artlessly rustic and Klara had a taste for grander things. It wasn't that she didn't love her family or miss then from time to time. She just didn't feel that their life was what she wanted. She wanted fame, she wanted wealth. To be a meek and quiet farm girl who married and had children at a young age was good enough for her sisters, but not her. She had pursued a singing career against her father's wishes at the age of sixteen.

It hadn't started easily, she'd shuffled from theater to theater being rejected and denied most of the time. She'd begun at the bottom, in the chorus and most of her teen years she barely made ends meet. She remembered the times she'd been cold and hungry, But it had all been worth it. All the training and waiting. Now here she was ten years later at the Palais Garnier to play the lead role in the opera Faust. It was worth everything she had turned her back on. She seated herself in front of the small vanity at the back of the room. Carefully she began to remove the make-up she had so painstakingly applied that morning. She knew she was a beautiful woman, she did her best to make sure that was what other people saw too, perfection. Her skin lightly powdered and her eyes enhanced with kohl, a touch of rouge on her lips. All of her make-up done very subtly to accentuate her features, not cover them. Well, not cover most of them...

as the powder came away from her left temple a splash of pink showed itself, a birthmark. She frowned at it; it was a blemish she longed to be rid of. Even when she hid it under a layer of powder she was careful to tug her bangs over it. She would be flawless for her audience, flawless to see and hear. It was what she worked for, and she certainly did work. She was careful of what she ate, careful of what she wore, and careful to practice her singing daily. When she had started she had been a slightly pudgy, awkward child of sixteen with an untrained warble that grated on the ears. It had taken a lot of hard work to make that creature disappear, but she had done it. She admired the woman who now stared back at her from the mirror, half her make-up gone and her curls starting to come out of her hair. So what if her perfect beauty was fake? All beauty was fake in its own way; a practiced smile, a schooled voice, her makeup and manner, all the same. If it pleased the crowd then good enough. They loved her false image and she loved their false adoration. She knew they loved the image, the painted doll that sang for them, the romance of it all as she stood perfect and unattainable on the stage for them. It didn't bother Klara one ounce that it was all a facade. She gave herself a knowing smile.

"People love to be lied too, it's much prettier than the truth,"

...

How right you are, thought the figure hidden away in the secret room on the other side of the wall. Beautiful lies are easier to bear than the ugly truth, aren't you an astute little girl? He watched her finish removing her artfully applied cosmetics, he didn't see that she needed them but then he understood that there was more to needing to hide ones true face than physical imperfection. This woman wasn't the innocent and naive girl she seemed at first sight and he appreciated such qualities. Innocence was only a euphemism for ignorance anyway. More often than not it was a poetic way to make youthful stupidity sound charming. The Phantom grinned beneath his mask, he'd been lurking around the building trying to come up with a plan for his grand exposition. Since the manager was throwing a gala he'd made plans to attend. He'd considered putting a quick clean end to this newest addition to the cast but he wasn't the sort of man who liked to kill needlessly, and after hearing her sing the piece from Faust he had decided that she was suitable for the part of Marguerite. She was certainly the best performer out of that sorry cast they were currently using, that was for sure. It was a crime and a shame to waste talent; no, his issue was with the manager and if anyone was going to dance at the end of a noose it would be someone that wouldn't be missed.

He walked back up the passage at the end of the room until he was at the manager's office. The boy was there, he was bent intently over his bookkeeping, his face screwed up in concentration. Well, at least he seemed like a hard worker. Pity it would all come to naught by the time the Phantom was done with him. Perhaps he'd leave him one more letter just to give him a last chance...

...

It was nearly midnight by the time Luc took care of the ledger, throwing a gala was an expensive matter and he had to keep all the accounts up to date, the opera house was already on the edge of debt and Luc was all but wagering everything on the success of Klara's singing. He stretched and stood, it was late and he was tired. Any last matters he needed to tend could wait until morning. He walked to the door and removed his coat from the hook on the wall only to notice that there was a note inside it. How on earth had that happened? He hadn't had anything in the coat when he'd come in and he'd been in the room the whole time, if someone had come and slipped a note into his pocket he would have seen them.

To my new Manager

I noticed that you have disrespectfully discarded my first letter. You are fortunate that I am a generous ghost and I do make allowances for young people to be arrogant and foolish. However, I have limited patience, consider this your second and final warning. I want my salary in box five by the end of the week, or I will take my payment in blood. I would advise you not to test me, others have done so in the past and suffered greatly for their folly. You have been adequately warned.

Sincerely

O.G

Luc let out a frustrated growl and ripped the paper in half.

"Opera Ghost? I don't believe in the supernatural and you can take my word for it this blackmail won't stand!" he shouted. He wasn't going to be intimidated. There was no Phantom! That was impossible, who ever this man was he seemed to have everyone else fooled but Luc would have staked his life on it that the man responsible for this note was flesh and blood. "I won't be threatened by a lowlife like you! You won't even come out and face me like a man! Coward! You won't get a single Franc from me! Not so much as a Sous!" Luc continued to rant at his unseen tormentor for the better part of half and hour. He didn't know that anyone was actually listening...

...

From his secluded place just behind the far wall of the room the Phantom shook his head. Well that was a waste of paper and ink, he thought. It seemed there was no hope, but he supposed The Phantom had been too quiet for too long to expect this new manager to take him seriously. It was a disappointing turn out, but not in anyway shocking. He supposed it never hurt a drama to end the first act with a murder. Now he just had to decide if it would be the manager, or someone else, these issues were very delicate after all. No details must be overlooked!