Hello! This is chapter two, in case you didn't know that already.

Concerning the diary entries in the last chapter—you weren't expected to know who wrote them. You'll probably be able to figure it out after this chapter, but if you don't, don't worry about them. They were more like a prologue than anything else.

Does that make sense?

I, obviously, don't own anything that you recognize, unless you only recognize it because it was in the pervious chapter. In that case, it might be mine.

Then again, that depends on how well you know the Phantom of the Opera.

The next day after the opera fiasco, Erik heard just how that…girl…Amy Eldwin, did the night before.

"Can you believe it?" Firmin asked, waving that day's paper in Andre's face. "The reviews that this Amy Eldwin somehow managed to rake up. It's unbelievable."

"'Ms. Eldwin did a remarkable performance.'" Andre read. "'Her singing was superior to anyone's anyway. She is sure to go farther than anyone in her chosen career.'"

"Ridiculous, don't you think?" Firmin said. "No one has heard anything about her before. How could she have suddenly become so well-known?"

"Well," Andre replied, thinking hard. "Perhaps she simply needed someone to help her get onstage. Maybe she had stage fright and needed to get over it first."

"Oh, come now," Firmin said scornfully. "No one who has stage fright becomes such a famous singer."

"I'm sure there's one or two," Andre said fairly.

"Well, there's one thing I must say," Firmin snapped, grabbing the paper back. "Her manager, this Martin Tessier, must be making quite a handsome profit from her. Apparently, it was standing room only last night, and even then, people were squeezing together just to hear her sing a few songs. We weren't even mentioned once in this entire paper!"

"That might be a good thing," Andre muttered.

Erik listened in shock. How could this girl do so well? Even Christine wouldn't have been able to pull something like that off, and she was the best singer he knew.

"Perhaps we should listen to her ourselves." Andre suggested. "That way we can see for ourselves just what is so marvelous about this girl."

Firmin thought for a few minutes. "An excellent idea, Andre." He finally pronounced. "Though I do hate putting any more money in those people's pockets…"

"Very well. We should try to go tonight, though." Andre stated. "She's only staying here only two more nights."

"Thank goodness for small favors." Firmin sighed, and Erik couldn't agree more.

That night, as planned, Andre and Firmin were able to go see Amy Eldwin for themselves. They had no problems getting seats—Monsieur Tessier seemed to be more than happy showing off his singing sensation to the two opera managers.

Erik was also interested in how the two would react the next morning. He spent practically the whole night wondering that out loud to a very bored Laetitia. After he had gone on for six-and-a-half hours, she finally got fed up faking interest and dived into the lake, not resurfacing until late in the afternoon.

In the morning, Erik waited anxiously for the return of one of the managers. Normally he wouldn't give a damn for their opinions, but, strangely enough, he really wanted to know what they thought of this girl. Surely they would hate her almost as much as he did.

Fortunately, he didn't have to wait for Andre or Firmin.

Christine ran into the theatre and, finding Meg, grabbed her friend by the arm.

"Meg!" She whispered franticly. "Meg, did you hear?"

"Hear what?" Meg asked, wincing. She tried to shake off Christine's tight hold, but failed miserably.

Christine didn't seem able to give a straight answer. "So," She began mysteriously. "Last night I went to see Amy Eldwin singing, and…"

"You did what?" Meg gasped.

"Yes, yes, I know," Christine said quickly. "But I wanted to see how well she did."

"And how well did she do?" Meg asked curiously.

"Meg, it was like nothing I've ever heard before. Even the Phantom…" She paused awkwardly for a moment.

Erik felt anger course red-hot through his veins. Singing was one of his few claims to fame, and this girl was taking that away from him too!

"Anyways," Christine continued, finally releasing Meg. "It was an absolutely amazing experience. And that's not all. Andre and Firmin went as well, you know, and they were extremely impressed by her too. And guess what else?"

"What?"

She lowered her voice. "They've decided to offer her a singing job here. She's coming in only a few hours."

Meg's mouth dropped open, and Erik was sure his did as well. These idiot managers just decide to hire some stupid girl because she could sing well? What if she, like Carlotta, couldn't act to save her life? She'd probably turn out to be exactly like Carlotta: expecting everyone to just fawn all over her and to get her way no matter what.

He very quickly made his decision—Amy Eldwin could not stay. One way or another, he would get rid of her.

Erik ran back underground, swearing rapidly in three different languages as he went. Not for the first time, he wished there wasn't the magical defense barrier he had set up a few years ago to prevent people from appearing and disappearing into the sewers. However, he had had too many visitors drop in that way.

Once he crossed the lake, he jumped out of the boat, and flung himself into the chair by his desk, knocking a few candles over along the way. He grabbed a clean piece of paper and his quill and started writing. Then he realized he had forgotten ink.

Upping his swearing languages to four, he dipped his quill in the inkbottle and started writing again, before he realized the inkbottle was empty.

By the time he had finished his letter, he was swearing in seventeen different languages, had successfully knocked over more than half of the candles, set three stacks of paper on fire by accident, and spilled ink all over his desk. To put it simply, he was not a very happy person.

He raced back up to the ground level to see a group of people crowding in the entrance hall. Two of them, father and daughter from the looks of things, had identical smug expressions on their faces. Everyone else was surrounding something or someone, hiding it from view.

Just as he started desperately wanted an explanation for all this, Raoul de Chagny walked in, looking just as confused as the Phantom felt.

"You called me, Monsieur Firmin?"

"Ah, yes," Firmin straightened importantly. "Monsieur, may I present to you Martin Tessier and his lovely daughter, Marie Anne? Monsieur, Mademoiselle, the Vicomte de Chagny."

Raoul nodded politely to them, but still looked confused.

"Monsieur Tessier is Mademoiselle Eldwin's manager." Andre explained helpfully.

"Ah," Raoul's confused expression cleared somewhat. "Ms. Amy Eldwin?"

"The very one." Martin Tessier's voice grated harshly on Erik's eardrums. He winced, before hearing another voice that countered it immediately.

"Excuse me, sir," Though she was speaking very softly, Erik had no trouble hearing her, as if she stood right next to him. "But my name is not Eldwin. It is Eledhwen."

"Forgive me, but that is what the newspaper said your name was." Raoul replied looking confused again.

"I'm afraid they got it wrong, sir." Continued she. "It is Amme Eledhwen. A-m-m-e E-l-e-d-h-w-e-n.

"I see. Thank you for clearing that up for us." Raoul's confusion had vanished again. Erik wondered idly how long it would take before returning.

"How did it get spelled like that, then?" Christine wondered.

"Oh," Martin Tessier laughed. His laugh was worse than his speaking voice. "We thought it would be better if we went with the normal spelling of her name. And…her last name is hard to pronounce, wouldn't you agree?"

Some people in front of her moved, and the Phantom was finally able to see her for himself.

She was beautiful; there was no denying it. Her entire body was tall and thin, but somehow that didn't make her look stretched. Her skin was not colorless, there was a faint blush in her cheeks, but she was still very pale, as if she spent little time in the sun. Her cheekbones were high, her nose was straight, and her lips were full and red. Her thick hair was as black as midnight, and fell slightly above her waist. Her light brown eyes were almond shaped and slanted. Though she stood utterly still, her body still convened gracefulness.

Everything about her seemed perfectly natural and perfect almost to the point of the unnatural.

"So, then," Firmin said slowly. "Ms. El-ed-hwen, correct?" Amme nodded. "Ms. Eledhwen, what do you say to singing opera at this theatre? We'll pay you twice your current salary if you do."

Erik felt a brief moment of terror. Then Amme said carefully, "I'm afraid, sir, that I cannot. Monsieur Tessier has been so kind to me, I'm cannot leave them just for money."

The Phantom frowned. Her accent was something he couldn't place, and he had been to lots of countries before.

"Oh, yes," Martin Tessier said in his grating voice. "We would hate to give up Amme after all we've done for her."

Erik snorted. The girl, or, more correctly, woman, was clearly underfed, and there were shadows under her eyes as if she didn't get enough sleep at night. He guessed they just kept her because she made them lots of money.

"Well, I'm sure we can come up with an agreement, don't you think?" Andre asked.

"What?" Andre elbowed his partner. "Oh, yes, of course! Just, come into our office and we can talk things out."

"You can wait out here, Amme," Marie Anne Tessier said. Her voice was exactly like her father's. Erik winced.

Amme obediently leaned against the wall, her head bowed and her hair hiding her face.

"How do you like it in Paris, Amme?" Christine asked timidly.

"It's fine," Amme replied.

"I suppose it's different from where you're from, correct?"

"What makes you say that?"

"Well," Christine laughed. "The look on your face when you saw the theatre! Wherever you are from, there probably isn't anything like this, right?"

"Yes, you are correct. There is nothing like this in my home." She said the word "home" with some longing.

"Where are you really from?" Meg inquired curiously.

"Ahsela."

"Is that a country or a city?" Christine asked.

"A country."

"I've never heard of it."

Neither had Erik, and he had the world map memorized. Perhaps this Amme had made it up.

"Most people haven't."

Christine and Meg shared a look. Then Meg said, "You miss it there, don't you?"

"Correct again."

"What was it like?"

Amme hesitated for so long, Erik started to think she wouldn't answer. "It is much more…natural than it is here. The buildings are made to suit the environment—to blend in more. They look like they've grown there, instead of being built. It's much smaller than France, too."

"It sounds lovely," Christine said simply.

Erik finally got bored enough with the three women talking. Luckily, just at that moment, the two managers and the two Tessiers came out.

"Alright, Amme. Everything's settled. You can start coming to rehearsals the day after tomorrow." Firmin said.

"Will that be fine?" Andre asked.

"Yes, thank you." Amme didn't seem very grateful for being allowed to work in the opera house.

"Oh, Amme, I shall miss you!" Marie Anne cried, flinging her arms around the other woman.

Amme stood motionless—it was probably like hugging a block of wood.

Her reaction made Erik even more irritated. The Paris Opera House was probably the best one in the entire world, and she practically turned up her delicate nose at it! Who was she to criticize it?

In reality, Amme was not "turning her nose up at it". She was actually very impressed with the theatre, but she was simply thinking about something else at that moment.

"Now, then, Ms. Eledhwen," Andre said. "If you need help finding a place to stay, I'm sure someone wouldn't mind…um…helping you."

"Thank you very much, sir," Amme replied expressionlessly. "But I don't think that will be necessary."

"Wonderful, wonderful." Andre said rather absentmindedly.

"I hope you won't mind," Firmin told her carefully. "But I'm afraid you'll have to be an understudy. We don't have any parts currently available, so you'll have to wait until we start a new opera. Is that alright with you?"

"That is fine."

"Wonderful!" Andre said happily. "We'll see you tomorrow, then!"

Amme didn't move: Marie Anne was still clinging to her.

"Excuse me, Marie Anne," Meg said slowly. "But I think you can let go of Amme now."

"Oh, yes." Marie Anne simpered. She still did not release the other. "So sorry, Amme, dear."

"It's alright," Amme replied softly. "But I would prefer it if you let go of me."

Marie Anne looked a little surprised that Amme would say something like that, but finally released her. "Oh, sorry again, Amme."

To a casual observer, to someone who didn't know her very well, Amme Eledhwen looked fine. Better than fine, actually. She looked beautiful. But that was to someone who didn't know her. To someone who did know her, they would be able to pick out three major things wrong with her.

Number one, she was wearing a black dress. Now, the black part wasn't unusual, Amme wore a lot of black. However, Amme only wore dresses when she was forced to—she thought they limited her movement too much.

Reason number two: she was wearing shoes. Amme normally hated shoes. The reasoning was as why she never wore dress: limiting movement. And the shoes she was currently wearing had heels of all things! For Amme in her normal state, that would have been a big no-no.

The last and most important reason: her expression. Expect on the very rarest of occasions, Amme usually had a sparkle in her eyes, and her mouth was typically turned upward, like she was fighting a smile. However, now her face was blank, and when an emotion did manage to break through her face, it was always sadness.

And…that's the end of chapter two. Review, por favor!