Disclaimer: Based on the novel by Gaston Leroux. All Phantom related works, as well as lyrics quoted in the story, belong to their respective owners.
Chapter 6 - The greatest challenge
Neither Erik nor Carlotta ever mentioned what had transpired between them at the shisha lounge. With time emotions faded and that second kiss, just like first, had become just a blurred memory. They stayed friends as if nothing had ever happened, meeting for lunch and sometimes running into each other at random. Days flew by rather uneventful until a chance encounter with Daroga brought a new element into the mix.
Erik and Carlotta were sitting at their usual table at the Opera Restaurant, having their daily actuality lesson over some lunch when the guard approached them.
"Hello children," he said with a smile. "Mind if I join you?"
"Please, have a sit Monsieur Daroga." Carlotta pointed to a free chair.
Erik just sneered, "Children?"
"I'd like to remind you," Daroga said, sitting down, "that in the current state of things I'm probably good ten years your senior."
"I'm two hundred years old or so."
"But you look like thirty-five and act like fifteen."
Erik looked daggers at him but before he could bicker back, Carlotta shushed him
"Stop it you two!" she huffed.
Silence fell for a moment as they all picked on their food, then Daroga spoke again.
"Tell me, dear," he addressed Carlotta, "how're your lessons going?"
"Very well actually," the girl replied merrily. "Erik is a very attentive student," she praised.
She was honestly astounded by Erik's capacity to learn. He was able to memorize in a single go massive amounts of detailed information, making her suspect he had an eidetic memory. Not to mention he understood some really complex concepts like advanced medicine, molecular physics or simply the inner workings of technology. On top of that, he was genuinely curious: he didn't only learn because he had to, he also wanted to. She let him keep her iPad for the time being, the device being fairly redundant since she still had her laptop and phone, and she bet that by now his head held almost as much information and the whole internet.
"I give him ten in all the subjects," Carlotta said drawing a parallel to the Italian school grading system, "but barely a pass in personal conduct." In fact, just like an autistic child whose beautiful mind is both his gift and his curse, in all his brilliance Erik sometimes failed to grasp simple ideas that were at the very base of human society.
Daroga let out a little chuckle. "Let me guess, he keeps calling you a toad?"
"Among other things," Carlotta muttered.
Really, she didn't mind the toad anymore, finding that most of the times it sounded like an endearment rather than an offense. She was more preoccupied with Erik's growing grudge against the phangirls, the everlasting unwillingness to get out of the Opera House and above all the stealing. She had addressed the topic with him once and the heated conversation that followed made her realize yet another undeniable truth. Erik, for as alive as he was physically, was, in fact, nothing but a ghost. He had no ID, no postal address, no bank account, no security number. To the world outside he didn't exist.
There was nothing to do about it, Erik belonged in Palais Garnier and there he would stay. She would, however, like to see him on stage one day, singing and playing and being recognized for his work with public's cheer and a round sum. He'd already spent one life cast away, she really didn't want that to happen again.
"Is it true what they say," Daroga's question brought Carlotta out of her reverie, "that La Debonnaire is retiring soon?"
Carlotta nodded. "It's been confirmed that she's pregnant. The fourth month I think. She doesn't really show much yet but she's constantly sick and Julianne keeps on taking her gigs. They, however, plan on announcing her leave only at the end of the season."
"Who knows, perhaps you'll be our new prima donna?"
Erik's loud snort made both Daroga and Carlotta turn his direction.
"What?" the guard gruffed. "Carlotta is la Debonnaire's understudy along with Julianne. It's only plausible that she'd be considered."
"Really Daroga?" Erik rolled his eyes in disdain. "The little toad a prima donna? I'll sooner grow a nose."
Now the toad certainly didn't sound endearing.
"I'd like to remind you," Carlotta said coldly, "that I am in fact a trained professional. I've been to the conservatory where I actually did very well. I've always been very praised by all of my teachers."
"They must've all been either deaf or dumb."
Carlotta looked at Daroga with pleading eyes. She'd had had enough of the damn phantom teasing her about her presumably awful singing. She'd performed at La Scala and now at none less that Opera Garnier. She couldn't really be that bad!
She had hoped Daroga would say that she really sang beautifully and Erik was being unjust, letting his dislike for her great great grandma have too much impact on his judgment of her skill. She certainly didn't expect the guard's next suggestion.
"If you're so smart maestro," he mocked, "why don't you teach Carlotta to sing?"
Erik almost choked on his potatoes. "What?!"
"They say that Christine sounded like a broken hinge until she met you. Allegedly your tutelage makes miracles," Daroga teased on, "but I'm starting to think it's all just idle chatter."
"I could make anyone sing like an angel if I only wished to," Erik assured him.
"Show me then."
"I'm not teaching her."
"Um, excuse me guys," Carlotta tried to interrupt, annoyed by being treated like she wasn't even there. "Don't you think I should get a word on the matter?"
The two men ignored her completely.
"I bet you a hundred euros you couldn't make her sing any better than she already does!" Daroga laughed at Erik.
"Get your money ready Daroga," the ghost retorted, "because by the end of the season you'll hear her sing the lead like she never had before!"
"Guys!" Carlotta had to shout to finally get their attention. "I'm not up for this."
Both men looked at her in confusion.
"Mademoiselle Giudicelli," Daroga said, "don't you want to become prima donna?"
Of course she wanted to become prima donna but she didn't want it to happen because Erik conveniently got her rival out of the picture, perhaps by dropping something heavy on her head. Not to mention she had no wish to give him a legitimate excuse to criticize her all the time. The occasional nasty comment she let slip but if she had to take it every day she'd go insane.
"I don't want Erik to teach me," she said with clear unease.
"You'll be fine. It's not like you're some ingenue who can't stand up to our dear ghost here."
That was the point! She wasn't his precious little ingenue that he'd gladly teach with patience and gentleness. She was the great great granddaughter of his past enemy, and no matter how well they got along, he'd always see her as nothing more but a mere copy of the much-hated diva. No matter how well she sang, he'd always cut her to bits just because she was who she was.
Shaking her head she repeated, "I really don't want to do this."
She crossed eyes with Erik, hoping he'd back her up but he only said, "No worries little toad, we'll soon show this nonbeliever what we can do." There was such strong resolve in his voice and Carlotta already knew that, now that Daroga had turned his innocent idea into a dare, there was no way in heaven or hell that Erik would let her get out of this. He'd squeeze every last agonizing note out of her throat just to show the guard that there was indeed no limits to his musical genius.
"I think I'll leave you now dear children." Daroga got up his seat and ran away, leaving them alone to discuss further action.
"An hour in the evening?" Erik suggested. An hour was little in his opinion but he remembered what Carlotta had said once about letting him have no more than that after work and decided not to push it.
Ignoring the churning in her gut, Carlotta said, "Meet me after work in the Salon du Chant."
"Very well," he agreed.
"See you later then."
So it began. Just as agreed the two of them met almost every night in the Salon du Chant to have a lesson but instead of making any actual progress they only grew more and more frustrated with each other.
Erik quickly realized the little toad didn't lie about her training. She knew all there was to know about voice control and was able to put that into practice. Technically she was very good, very precise. She hardly ever hit the wrong note. Her voice wasn't bad either. Just like her great great grandma she had a crystal clear throat that produced a powerful, vibrant sound. Her range was fairly wide and she had a good pitch. Then why did she sound so plainly?
He tried it all, from scales to full arias, but nothing worked. Every time Carlotta opened her mouth to sing the outcome would be mediocre at most. In theory, there was no fault to her performance but she transmitted no emotion. She was like a mannequin with build in a perfect vocal system, allowing it to sing but never to feel the song. Reprimands didn't help. If anything they only made the soprano grow more and more uncooperative. Eventually, he gave up on bashing her so much, just pointing out the actual mistakes she made, if she ever happened to make any. It helped their encounters carry on in a more relaxed atmosphere but it did nothing to Carlotta's virtual lack of stage charisma. He was failing, he knew it, but he'd rather die a second time than admit his defeat to Daroga.
Deciding that Carlotta's problem certainly lay somewhere other than her vocal training, he began to watch her, looking for clues. Without her knowing, he hung around during her daily rehearsals, taking notice of the relationships she held with various people at the opera and finding nothing that would really explain her inner coldness. He then observed her more closely, especially in the moments when she was alone, and when he was beginning to suspect she may be justempty-headedd he finally stumbled upon something.
Carlotta had stayed in late, likely waiting for the storm raging outside to subside, and she just sat on the sofa in her room, reading a book. She'd taken her shoes off and pulled her feet underneath her, the position making her dress travel up and reveal bare skin up to her upper thigh.
Watching her from behind the mirror, Erik felt the monster inside him stir. It had been easy to control his natural instincts back in the 1800s when women dressed up to their neck but now it actually took some effort, especially when it came to this torment of an italian soprano with her exquisite outfits that, staying classy, always revealed just enough to make his imagination run wild.
A whistle cut the silence and Carlotta checked her phone. As she read the message her cheeks flushed a little but then her expression saddened. She stared at the phone with watery eyes, her thumb hovering over the screen, as if she pondered what to write in reply, or even whether to do it at all.
Behind the mirror Erik was dying to know who had send her the text and what is said. Judging from her reaction it was someone important to her. It was certainly someone she had some feelings for. Her face had said it all.
Suddenly the lights went out and Carlotta swore under her breath. Retrieving a pocket torch from her bag she left the room, perhaps to get some candles, leaving her phone on the sofa.
Erik couldn't believe his luck. Sneaking into the room he took the device and checked for any recent messages. It took him a minute before he found a new conversation on WhatsApp. The number was saved simply as Antonio.
Making sure all was still and quiet he opened the conversation. There was only one incoming message: Ciao tesoro, come stai? Da quando te ne sei andata non faccio che pensare a te. Mi manchi troppo. The text was in italian but he understood it just fine. The man called Carlotta a treasure, which was a typical italian endearment, and wrote he missed her and badly so. He kept on thinking about her ever since she'd left. All of that suggested the two of them were friends, or perhaps even more than that.
There was a faint sound of steps coming from behind the door. Leaving the phone where he took it, Erik hid behind the mirror just in time before Carlotta entered the room, candle in hand. Setting it on the vanity, she took her phone again and stared at it for several minutes before typing something in reply and swtiching the screen off with a heavy sigh.
Ever since he knew her, Erik had never seen Carlotta date or even openly flirt with anyone and he'd come to think of her as his exclusive possession. Now it dawned on him that the little toad had a life outside the Opera House and very likely a young suitor, or should he rather say boyfriend, and surprisingly enough the thought filled him with a familiar sensation of dread.
Next chapter: Ever wondered what would POTO sound like sung by the real deal Erik? Carlotta finds out and she's impressed.
There's no better way to have Erik do something than tell him he couldn't do it, don't you agree?
And who exactly is Antonio and what does he have to do with anything?