The night air was crisp and damp as rain fell onto the city of Paris, as if mourning the loss of the beautiful opera house that was burned to the ground. It was rumored that the supposed Opera Ghost of the Opera Populaire brought down the chandelier in a feeble attempt to kidnap the rising diva and punish the people that had gotten in his way. With a sinister laugh, he pulled a lever that further weakened the tampered chandelier and it plummeted with haste. Many people ran for their lives and while most made it out, not all survived, whether it was due to the impact of the falling chandelier or the fire that slowly consumed the beloved theater. Among those who survived, there were a few who tried to track down the murderer and save the star before she would be slain as well. This group, led by the influential Vicomte de Chagny, managed to find his lair and save the girl, but did not find the maniac; only finding his mask, seemingly left behind as a taunt.
However, like most rumors, there are often more sides to the story than what is told. In reality, Erik was simply trying to win the heart of his dear Christine Daaé in a desperate attempt to stop her engagement with Raoul. On the stage, he aimed to act as the charismatic character of Don Juan and entice his Aminta, fittingly played by the only woman he would want to , instead of running away with him, she pulled off his mask and humiliated him in front of the entire audience. In a lapse of judgment, he did as everyone witnessed: pulled the lever to bring down the chandelier. As it fell from the high ceiling, he held onto her tightly and fell down the trap door. He dragged her back to his lair, where he spent large amounts of time rehearsing with her prior, but tonight, Erik planned this place to be their wedding chapel. He fashioned her a wedding dress and made her wear it and although she did, she was completely frightened out of her mind. What once was love for her teacher soon turned to hate for what he had done. Not too long after that, her fiancé came to "save her", but the deranged Erik found it more amusing to make her choose who she would spend the rest of her life with, despite killing Raoul if she chose him instead of Erik.
Despite the tears rolling down her face, she did not give him an answer, but instead, walked up to her Angel of Music and kissed him on the lips, giving him the only affection he ever received in his life. Now with the cloud around his sanity lifted, he realized the error of his ways and let them both go. However, when he thought he was alone, Christine did come back, but not for the reason Erik had hoped. Instead, she returned the wedding ring he gave her and granted him one final kiss on his forehead before returning to her fiancé. Heartbroken and crushed, he decided that he must leave this place since it was no longer the refuge he dwelled in for many years. He grabbed some francs, his overcoat, and his white mask before leaving forever. Some would say that the malevolent spirit finally left the place that night.
Erik made sure to keep in the shadows as he traveled around the frantic streets of Paris as citizens witnessed another tragedy fall onto the city. This was the second opera house burned in the span of three years, the first also attributed to a Phantom, so theater-goers felt that Paris was cursed with ghosts that had a particular hold to the theatrical arts. Due to the focus being on the fire, he easily slipped passed people who would usually question his mask. The city was dark minus the haunting glow in the distance, but it soon started to cease as rain fell from above, helping the firefighters to calm the flames.
It didn't take long for Erik to reach the outskirts of Paris, but with a paranoid city looking for a scapegoat, he knew he had to leave here, maybe even flee the country, to feel safe. He took one more look at the rainy city and mentally said his goodbyes to the few people who cared for him: Madame and Meg Giry, who housed him and took care of him in secret, and his beloved Christine, who he would probably love until his dying breath. He wondered if life would have been different if it was not for his deformity, but knew he could not change a thing about it, no matter how much he wanted to. Life was never fair to the abused man and he accepted that a long time ago, but he was still thankful for the bits of kindness he received, even if they were short-lived.
Erik walked for many miles and hours, almost tempted to hitch a ride on the passing carriages, but he didn't want them to worry that he was a bandit due to his mask. His shoes and pants were muddy and the rain didn't seem to have an end in sight. There didn't seem to be any shelter nearby, forcing him to continue walking despite his body begging for rest. As the morning hours started creeping, the air became colder and without an umbrella, he was drenched and freezing. Even thunder started to roar in the distance, making the rain fall even harder. If this continued, he could develop hypothermia or be one of those unfortunate people to be struck by lightning. He kept trudging through the muddy roads despite feeling like he could collapse at any moment. He wondered how long, then, would it take for him to finally leave this cruel world. After everything he has done, would he go to Heaven or Hell? He was left to wonder.
Luckily for him, he managed to find an estate some distance away, secluded from the bustling city nearby. Most would admire the beauty of the manor, but due to the heavy rainfall, all he could see was the dark outline that illuminated when lighting struck. He was about to walk up the front door, hoping someone was awake at this late hour, but before he could knock, he had a thought: whoever lives here would probably feel immensely disturbed if they saw a masked man try to enter their home uninvited. He thought about simply resting on the porch until the sun rose, but feared that someone would spot him before he left. With determination, he looked around for a possible third option that suited him; he would not last long walking further than this place in this weather. The property was quite large, so he figured there had to be a small building he could stay in. Sure enough, he found one: the stable. He quickly ran into the dry interior, removed his soaking overcoat, and hung it to dry. He shivered as the cold air touched his wet dress shirt that clung to his body. He also felt the glares of the horses that were watching this stranger enter their home and he had to remain calm. Animals have a funny way of sensing the emotions of the humans around them, ergo if he was spooked, then they would be too and alert their owner of his presence. Although he feared that, he took deep breaths as he tried to find an empty stall for him to stay in for the night and luckily, there were a few to choose from.
He picked the one furthest away from the rest of the horses and finally got the chance to sit down. It was already laid with hay, so all he had to do was gather a bunch to make a makeshift bed for the night. As he laid his head on it, he did not mind that it was itchy or that the smell of manure was filling his nose. All he cared about was shutting his eyes and hopefully being at least a little dryer when the sun rose. He had to remind himself that he needed to leave first thing in the morning to avoid detection. He needed to keep going, even if he had no idea where he was headed, but all he knew was that he needed to get away. Though, as his heavy eyelids touched, he felt that his own rule was not going to be followed.
"Mademoiselle Ravenswood, I don't think it's wise for you to be out in this weather. You will catch a cold," a young male voice said in the distance. Erik slowly woke up from his sleep and noticed that the rain finally stopped, but the air was still rather chilly. Maybe it wouldn't be as cold for someone who had dry clothes, but he was not so lucky. Still, his heart raced when he heard the voice and tried to remain out of sight of the open stall window.
"I told you before that you don't need to act so formal around me when Papa isn't home," a sweet feminine voice said as their footsteps seemed to get closer to the stable.
"R-Right, but you should return to the manor. It's quite cold and the rain has made the ground slippery," he said before Erik heard a yelp and a thud. The girl started to laugh, leading him to believe that he ate his words and slipped. "I'm glad you found my misery entertaining," he joked before chuckling as well.
She chuckled a bit more before saying, "I will be inside shortly, don't worry. I just want to check on the horses. I'm sure the thunder scared them last night and there was no one there to comfort them." Erik could hear her footsteps get louder until her heels finally reached the dirt floor. He saw her shadow enter the stall, but it faded just as quickly as it arrived as she rushed to one of the horses. "Poor Black Thunder. You and the rest of the gang had to be in your little boxes alone all night. If it was not storming, I would have rushed out here to give you a hug." However, she paused a moment and continued, "See, Jasper, I told you they were nervous. Look inside!"
The man rushed by Erik's stall as he met up with the woman. "You are aware that horses defecate a lot in the morning, right?"
"Well, regardless, we need to give them a clean area to relax in. We will probably need to do the same for the others."
"Yes, Mademoiselle," he said with a playful tone as he walked away to get some rope to tie around the horse's muzzle.
She sighed at the title, but as he was doing that, she noticed the hung overcoat and asked, "Hey, Jasper, is this yours?" Erik cursed at himself for leaving evidence of his presence. If he woke up early like he planned, he could have retrieved it and went on his way before the sun rose.
"What is?" he asked when he returned with the rope. "No, it is not. Seems like one that your father would wear."
"But he won't be home for a few more days," she said as she took it off the nail. "It is a shame it got wet. It will be a miracle if the rain did not ruin it."
"You don't suppose he's home early to surprise you," Jasper said as he guided the horse out of the stall.
"I doubt it. He and Mama have been fighting again, so I doubt he will want to be around her if he doesn't need to be," she said solemnly. "Besides, he would not come home in this storm."
"Right," he said as he started to walk to the empty stalls, but out of all of them, he opened the door to the one Erik was hiding in. He felt his skin crawl as he watched Jasper enter and held his breath in hopes that he would not notice him. The man looked in his late-twenties with dirty blonde hair and a frail figure, probably from not doing much heavy lifting or any strenuous task. Then again, Erik was in no shape to critique his physique, especially when he has been called a skeleton for a good portion of his life. Judging by his less-than-pristine clothes, he must be a servant or at least in charge of the stable. However, the horse sensed the uneasy presence and started to move in a frantic manner. "Woah, easy there boy," he said as he tried to calm the frightened animal, even though he didn't know what spooked him. He figured it might have been a snake or some other animal that snuck its way inside and looked around, but when his emerald green eyes finally met with the dark pools that belonged to the adult male pushing himself into the corner, he let out a scream, frightening the horse enough for it to run out of the stable.
"What's wrong?" she asked frantically as she ran to him. She entered the stall and she gasped at the sight of Erik. She had auburn hair that was tightly pinned back, creamy skin that didn't seem to possess any visible blemishes or imperfections, and warm brown eyes. She wore a dark purple dress that hung loosely around her legs, free from a petticoat or hoop skirt. She looked to be in her late teens, or at least, her baby face made her look that young. "Wh-Who is that?"
"Probably some homeless person trying to hide away from the rain," he said with a bit of bite as he approached Erik and roughly pulled him onto his feet. Erik was completely terrified; this was the exact situation he tried to avoid. It was only a matter of time before they pried him further on why he was sleeping in their stable and there was no good reason he could think of. Even if he gave them all the money he possessed as compensation, he feared it would not be enough."You trying to rob us, huh?"
"Wait, Jasper, can you not see that he has suffered enough?" she said as she walked to them, but kept some distance. "He is shivering and completely soaked! How cruel would it be for us to send him away without giving him dry clothes at least?"
"But he is trespassing on your land," he said angrily as he kept a close eye on Erik in case he tried to escape. He did hope that he could rough him up a bit and try to show off his muscle (or lack thereof) so he could impress the girl. It was not because he fancied her, but rather to build some confidence that he was attractive to the opposite sex.
"That hasn't stopped my father in America," she said with rolled eyes before closing the gap between them and even putting a hand on Erik's shoulder. "Still, I don't see any harm in bringing him inside for the time being."
"Are you crazy, Mélanie? You are going to let this dangerous man in your house?" he protested.
"If he truly was dangerous, then he would have broken into the house rather than stay here. Besides, this coat shows he has some class," Mélanie said with a sweet smile as she put his coat in their view. Erik was shocked by her forgiving nature. If a stranger entered his home, he would have made sure that they were "taken care of". Then again, he was living underground in secret, so the situation was a bit different. "What is your name, monsieur?"
"E-Erik," he stuttered, but he was surprised to see her smile.
"See, he's civilized."
"Even a savage in America can say their name if asked," Jasper muttered, but soon felt her foot step on his toes. "Ow, what was that for?"
"Those people are not savages. You need to stop reading all that nonsense in the papers," she said as she guided Erik out of the stable and into the sunlight. Despite the cold air, the sun's faint rays did feel nice on his wet skin. In contrast to Jasper's rough handling earlier, her touch was almost like a cloud that softly took him where he needed to go. He could finally get a good look at the three-story manor that had a beautifully decorated exterior. It was painted white with accents of maroon around the windows and roof. Some windows had dark green wooden shades with the front door matching in color. The lavish gardens that surrounded them were filled with many green trees and perfectly-cut grass with no dead patches anywhere. The bushes lining themselves along the pathway to the entrance were filled with sweet-smelling roses of varying color. It was such a beautiful home that he wished he could have built himself if life had been different. Maybe one day, he would.
Despite Mélanie's comforting touch, he felt Jasper's ice cold glare that made him shiver more than the chilly air could. He couldn't blame him for being suspicious and fearing that she was being naïve for taking him in. Soon, they arrived at the front door, but before she could turn the doorknob, the door swung open and another woman came out with a worried look on her face. She almost reminded him of Madame Giry, except that her auburn hair had a tint of grey. She had fine lines that showed her age, but the makeup she wore tried to hide it. She wore a black dress that practically covered her entire body except for her head and hands, which were garmented with white gloves. "Are you two all right? I heard screaming," she said as she hugged Mélanie tight, but she then saw the stranger and pulled her behind her back. "Who are you and what is your business here?" she threatened. She even had the same stern tone that Madame Giry did whenever he was caught rummaging around the Opera Populaire.
"Mama, please, don't be so cruel," Mélanie said as she walked between the two. "He was caught in the rain and sought shelter in our stable."
"What purpose would he have all the way out here? And how foolish of him to go out without a carriage or an umbrella," she said with squinted eyes as she seemed to look into Erik's soul. She may be scarier than Madame Giry could ever be.
"Also, are we not going to mention that he is wearing a mask to hide his identity?" Jasper pointed out. Erik hoped that nobody would bring it up at this moment so he could piece together a convincing story, but obviously that was not going to happen.
"P-Please, let me explain," he said with a shaky voice.
"I'm listening," the woman said, but was interrupted when she felt a tug on her arm and looked at Mélanie.
"Should we not at least give him a fresh change of clothes and a warm meal?" she pleaded with puppy-dog eyes. "Please!"
The woman sighed. "Fine. Jasper, help prepare our breakfast. Also, please tell Anna to get new clothes for our . . . guest," she ordered. He bowed before quickly leaving their side, leaving Erik alone with the two polar-opposite women. He tried to remain as calm as he could, but the woman's glare made him shake in his wet boots. He didn't know how he was going to get himself out of this mess, especially since he did not plan on being found, much less being invited in their house. He didn't have a story prepared, but he had to think of something real quick.
"Oh, I forgot to give this to him to dry," Mélanie said as she showed her mother the overcoat.
She looked at it and then back at Erik with suspicion in her eyes. "This is yours, Monsieur?"
"Yes, Madame," he said as politely and calmly as he could to not trigger any negative emotions.
"It's not stolen?"
"Of course not, Madame."
"Surely you must have a top hat along with this coat. It could have protected you from the rain."
"I-I-I do not have one," he lied. He did have one in his lair, but it didn't cross his mind to grab it. It probably would have hidden his face better. What was he thinking? That's the problem; he really wasn't at the time.
"Huh, so someone with enough money to buy a well-made coat did not have enough money to buy a fitting top hat," she concluded.
Soon, a voluptuous woman in a maid uniform came to the door with dry clothes in her hands. She had the same dirty blonde hair and green eyes that Jasper had, but instead of a watchful look, she had a mischievous smile as she got a good look at the mysterious stranger at the door. "Here are the clothes you asked for, Madame Ravenswood," she said in a sultry voice.
Md. Ravenswood did not lose her scowl as she looked back at her servant. In fact, it seemed to grow, but Anna kept her smile, as if confident that the older woman would not do anything to harm her. "Thank you, Anna," she said bitterly as she took the clothes out of her hands. She then presented them to Erik and demanded, "Get changed."
"Y-Yes Madame," he said nervously as he took them.
"Breakfast is ready, Madame and Mademoiselle," Anna continued, stepping back inside the manor to give them room to enter.
"Oh, I am starving. I wonder what the menu is today," Mélanie said as she happily walked inside, followed by her mother and Erik. He wasted no time finding an empty room to change in and he thought Md. Ravenswood would send her maid to keep watch, but in fact, she ordered her not to do that. Luckily, the room he chose had a lit fireplace and he spent some time there before changing, though he had a hard time pulling himself away from the warmth. The clothes seemed identical to Jasper's, meaning that he was probably wearing his spare. He shouldn't have expected any more, but the fact that they were loose on him despite being almost twice his age was a bit concerning.
Once he finished, he walked out the room, expecting someone to guide him to the dining hall, but no one was there. For anyone else, they easily would have been lost in a house as large as this, but for the former Opera Ghost, that was not the case. He spent years exploring every inch of the Opera Populaire, even finding areas that stagehands were not aware of. Then again, after a while, he memorized the layout of the enormous building and this was a brand new location. He began to walk around, admiring the beautifully ornate interior and the high-class furniture that complimented it. Despite the white paint outside, it seemed darker on the inside even with the light-colored wallpaper intricately patterned and lined with wooden trim. The windows were open with the maroon curtains tied away and the sun shining through, yet the darkness won over. Erik didn't mind the darkness, though, since he was accustomed to it.
As he traveled further, he passed by various portraits of different people, most likely relatives or ancestors of the Ravenswood family. One of the paintings that caught his eye was of a man with a long, yet round bearded face wearing a suit, top hat, and a coat with a stand-up collar. He looked somber, which is standard with most high-class portraits, but his eyes seemed to be sunken in, as if saddened by some unfortunate news. His eyes did not directly look at the viewer, but rather at the side, as if averting his gaze for whatever reason.
"That is my father, Henry Ravenswood," Mélanie said seemingly out of nowhere, startling him. "Oh, I'm sorry. Did I scare you?"
"J-Just a little," he admitted. "I-I was on my way to the dining hall."
"Well, you are in luck. I got worried that you would get lost and came to get you," she said with a sweet smile before looking at the portrait, forcing her smile to disappear. "If you manage to stay here, you might be able to meet him, but then again, I'm not sure you would want to."
"What makes you say that?"
She chuckled softly before saying, "If you thought my mother was scary, he's worse. He is not afraid to voice his disapproval to anyone and is quick to cast them out of his life and business. If he had met you today, he would have probably sent you away immediately, like my mother attempted."
"I would not blame them, honestly," he defended. "They just want to make sure you and the others are protected."
"I suppose, but that should not involve forcing you to travel in wet clothes and an empty stomach," she said as wrapped her arms around his. "This way," she insisted as her smile returned and she nearly dragged him with excitement to the dining room, where her mother and the two standing servants waited. Erik was surprised to see the table so full of food: smoked salmon on three plates and dishes of various hors d'oeuvre in the middle for anyone to take. Each glass was filled with wine, which Md. Ravenswood already asked for another glass from Jasper. At that moment, his stomach growled, making Mélanie giggle a little.
"Took you long enough," the older woman muttered under her breath as Mélanie and Erik finally reached their seats. Anna pulled out her chair while Jasper reluctantly pulled his. He still didn't trust him and for good reason; this meal was practically his trial. Despite his starving stomach, he didn't try to eat too quickly as he savored the delicious meat in front of him. It was quite divine, far better than what he could make himself. He prided himself in being able to cook despite living the way he did, but he still had so much to learn, clearly if he ever wanted to recreate something like this.
"Oh this is delicious. Please tell our chef that he did an excellent job when you see him," Mélanie complemented with a mouth full of food. She did cover herself with a napkin as she spoke, but her mother still shook her head in disappointment.
"We will, Mademoiselle," the servants said with a bow.
They continued to eat for a bit before Md. Ravenswood finally broke the silence. "I suppose it would be courteous of me to introduce myself. My name is Martha Ravenswood, the wife of the owner of this manor. You already met my daughter, Mélanie. And you would be?"
"Erik . . . ," he paused. It did not occur to him that they would expect his last name, but he never was given one. His own mother practically disowned him from birth, never revealing her last name to her own child as she hid him away. What could he say? Hello, I am Erik, the Devil's Child? Erik, the Opera Ghost? He had to think quickly. "E-Erik Chaney."
"Chaney? That is a surname I am unfamiliar with. Are you wealthy, Monsieur?"
"Not quite. I worked as . . . as a musician all my life," he lied.
"A musician," Mélanie repeated with peaked interest. "What kind of instrument do you play?"
"I dabbled in as many as I can get my hands on, but my specialties are the organ, piano, and violin," he said before taking a sip of his wine. He hoped it could calm his nerves.
"And what is a musician like you doing out here in the rain?" Martha interrogated. If she was already making him this nervous, then he could not imagine how scary her husband was.
"I was a victim . . . yes, a victim of the Opera Populiare fire," he almost yelled at the development.
"Oh my goodness, it was on fire? What happened?" Mélanie said with a hand covering her heart.
"The chandelier fell down. It was in the paper," Martha said bluntly before taking a bite of an hors d'oeuvre and swallowing quickly. "Apparently some madman weakened it so it would fall during a production. He even kidnapped the star."
"How awful, but you made it out, Erik. Though, not unscathed, it seems," she said as she pointed at his mask.
"Th-That's right. I was too close to where the chandelier fell and it burned my face. If it was not for the help of the ballet instructor, I would be dead," Erik fabricated. Although he was telling a story, he was not lying about Madame Giry's involvement. The timeline was off, but if she did not help him escape that circus all those years ago, he might have been dead.
"How unfortunate," Martha said, but still did not seem convinced by his story. This was the best he had, so if it did not work, he didn't know what to do. "But that still does not explain why you're here and not home."
"Well, home was the Opera Populaire. They gave their musicians the option to room and board, but with it being on fire and under investigation, I found myself homeless. I did try to seek shelter with a dear friend of mine, but she said her husband would find it suspicious if another man lived in their house and only provided me with a mask and some francs."
"I guess she's not that dear of a friend," she said as she finished her second glass of wine and Jasper was quick to refill it again, almost like a reflex. "But then again, I understand not wanting to cause unrest in a marriage. I'm surprised no one stopped you because of that mask. The madman in question was wearing one and was described as a hideous creature, was he not?"
Erik furrowed his brow a bit, both by her detective skills and the unflattering description provided. "I was scared of that too, but I guess they were so concerned with the Opera Populaire up in flames to notice."
"First the Palais Garnier and now the Opera Populaire. Paris is not meant to have theaters that aren't haunted," Martha joked. She seemed a bit more jovial now, probably thanks to the third glass of wine. Perhaps more, since he was gone for a while. "I just hope that you're not the madman and try to kill us." It was scary how she delivered that line with a laugh.
"I'm sure he's not," Mélanie defended, relieved that her mother was happier now, even if it was artificial. "He seems like the type that wouldn't harm anyone." Oh how wrong she was, sadly.
"If it doesn't trouble you, I do wish to stay the night here until my clothes are washed and dried. I can even pay you with the francs I have to compensate for the inconvenience," he said as he was about to reach into his pocket, only to remember that he was not wearing his overcoat that had the money in it.
Martha thought about it, but said, "I suppose one night is fine, but you are in charge of making sure your clothes are cleaned. And you can keep your money; you will need it for travel."
"Maybe we can even find you a place to stay. Do you have a specific location in mind?" Mélanie questioned.
"Anywhere away from Paris. Like your mother said: it is a cursed city," Erik tried to joke, but his laugh came off more nervous than he intended. Mélanie nodded before continuing to eat the remainder of her food. When they were done, Martha instructed the servants to clean it up, still keeping her wine glass close. Jasper filled it one more time before she left their side.
"We should give you a tour while they clean. Please follow me," Mélanie said as she got out of her seat and eagerly walked over to him. He nodded before wiping his mouth and placing the napkin on the table. He looked at the two servants to see if they still suspected him, but even Jasper seemed to not worry too much about him. He was listening intently during breakfast, so maybe his story convinced him to let his guard down. In fact, Anna was the one staring at him, but it was more out of fascination than suspicion.
The house was big, but the tour was short since Mélanie did not waste much time investing in every detail. After all, he only planned to stay the night, so it was not important for him to know those things. However, when they arrived at the banquet hall, he felt uneasy seeing the elaborate chandelier that hung above them. It was nowhere as massive as the one at the opera house, but it unnerved him nonetheless. Mélanie noticed this and said, "It's all right. It's hung securely and we make sure to check it every year."
"I would still be weary," he commented. She put a hand on his arm to calm him and continued the tour, making sure to avoid being directly underneath the chandelier.
Soon, they reached the music room, which was small compared to the other rooms in the house. There was a bookshelf filled with sheet music, but the papers seemed unkept and falling out of their folders. The room didn't look abandoned, but it would benefit from some deep cleaning to remove the dust gathered inside. By the window was a grand piano with the cover down and on the stand, there was a page of sheet music; it too was collecting dust and the paper clearly aged. How long has this been out? "I'm sorry for the mess. My father used to entertain in this room quite frequently, but he lost his taste in music some time ago," Mélanie said bittersweetly. "I remember my mother saying that she sang songs while he played the piano on their anniversaries, but then he just stopped."
"M-May I?" he asked as he pointed at the piano. She nodded and he quickly lifted the cover to make sure the piano was not damaged in any way. When he was pleased, he sat at the stool and played the middle C. It was miraculously still in tune as he checked the nearby notes by playing a C scale. He checked the pedals and they did not need any extra force to push them down. He then looked at the sheet music and started to play what was written. It was a short song, one he was not familiar with, but he still played it like he had known it all his life. However, as he reached the melody, he heard Mélanie sing the lyrics:
Your eyes see but my shadow
My heart is overflowing
There's so much you could come to know
You're content not knowing
Tenderly
You could see
My soul
She sang wonderfully, leaving him speechless. She was not an exceptional talent like Christine, but she still sang as if she received training before. In a rich household like this, she probably has. He finished playing the song and waited a second when the room fell into silence before turning around and saying, "That was beautiful."
"I know, the song has such a haunting, yet beautiful chorus," she said obliviously.
"I meant your voice. Have you had formal training?"
She blushed before saying, "No, I have not. Everything I learned was through my parents. I don't know how to read what's on that paper other than the words."
He was stunned. A natural talent, just like Christine. "Have you ever performed in front of others?"
"N-No. I have always dreamed of doing so, but father said my place is here," she said solemnly as she wiped a finger along the dusty piano. "According to him, a young woman must always be available for a husband, so she must not have a career that will interfere with that."
"But the world is changing. I know first hand that a woman can hold both a career and a marriage, especially in opera."
"Then I guess you will have to convince my father," she said before having a realization. "Perhaps he can hire you as our music teacher!"
"I-I am not sure that is a good idea. You said that he is the type of man that I should try to avoid," he said nervously.
"I know, but I have always wanted to learn about music, whether singing it or playing it, and you might just be the coincidence we need," she said excitedly. "All our problems can be fixed: we can pay you for the lessons and I get to hear lovely music as often as I want."
"I'm not sure your mother would approve—," he said before he was interrupted.
"I would, actually," Martha said from the doorway. Her voice made them both jump and she smirked. "I must admit that I miss the sound music in this place and hearing you reminded me of better times."
"But I don't want to inconvenience you any further," he said as he stood up quickly, accidentally knocking over the stool. They giggled at his clumsiness.
"It is no trouble. We have plenty of spare rooms for you to stay in."
"Y-You mean I would stay here?!" Erik asked in astonishment.
"I would assume that is the better option than you spending the little money you have to find temporary lodgings and transportation," she said before she took out the dried francs out of her pocket and handed it to him. "I asked Anna to dry your coat, but I feared she would take the money."
"Th-Thank you," he said as he put them in his pocket.
"However, I cannot guarantee my husband will approve of this," she continued. "He might fear you are trying to court my daughter and kick you out."
"I assure you that I have no intentions of doing so," he said cordially.
"So you don't think I am marriage material?" Mélanie said with a feign sad tone before giggling when he saw him blush out of embarrassment. "I am only teasing," she continued. However, despite the happy tone, Martha lost her smile. He assumed that it was because of what he unintentionally said about her daughter, but it was far from that.
"Then I propose we have a trial run of this arrangement: we will pay you 1,000 francs per lesson and provide room and board. If you wish to make more money, you could also work alongside Jasper and Anna, but I have two conditions: Mélanie is in charge of the lesson plan and my servants will have the final say on tasks. She can schedule as many or as little lessons as she wishes and the servants must tell me how much you worked."
"That is awfully generous of you, Madame—," he tried to say politely, but was cut off again.
"Please, call me Martha. I highly doubt you are that much younger than me," she said with a smile. She was capable of doing that?
"R-Right, Martha, I still think you are being much too generous."
"Well, it all depends if you accept the offer. If you refuse, then you can stay the night and be on your way tomorrow. Besides, it isn't a permanent offer until my husband returns from America. What do you say?"
He was flabbergasted by all this. When he fled Paris, he was expecting a life of complete hardship, begging on the streets for his next meal. Never in his wildest dreams would he think that a wealthy family would be willing to take him in and provide him a job that he was actually skilled in. Mélanie looked at him with the same puppy-dog eyes and begged, "Please stay with us. We need you."
He should say no. What if the investigation continued and they traced him back here? Would they be charged with harboring a criminal? He couldn't live with himself if anything bad happened to them because of him. But then again, he had so much struggle saying no with those pleading eyes and such a convincing offer. After much consideration, he finally gave an answer. "I accept."
"Come on, Erik. You need to get up. It's your big day," a muffled voice echoed. Erik slowly rose from his desk, wiping the sleep from his eyes. He didn't remember falling asleep here and regretted it when he felt his back crack as he rose. Some papers stuck to his hand as he tried to stretch and he removed them, putting them next to a dried quill and an open ink pot. "Even on your wedding day, I catch you writing music. Do you ever take a break?" the voice said with a laugh.
"My . . . wedding?" Erik inquired as he turned toward the voice, but he quietly gasped at the sight of the person before him.
"What is with that face? It's like you have seen a ghost," a man of Persian descent said with a puzzled face. He looked to be a few years younger than Erik with medium-length dark hair slicked back by pomade. He had some stubble on his chin and his eyes were a dark brown, like the Arabian desert under the night sky. He displayed his wealth with a tuxedo made from the finest fabrics that fit just right and strong cologne.
"Nadir?" Erik muttered.
"Who else would it be?" he responded with a smile. The last time Erik saw Nadir Khan was in Persia, where Erik worked as the puppet of the Shah, or really, his mother. She forced him to act as her personal assassin and ordered him to murder as many people as she wanted for her sick and borderline sensual pleasure. At the time, Nadir was tasked with keeping a close eye on him in case he got out of line, but unexpectedly, they formed a close friendship that was tested through many hardships on both sides. The biggest test was when Nadir was ordered to kill Erik after he was deemed unworthy by the Shah, but instead, they faked Erik's death and he fled from the continent. They hadn't been able to keep in touch since then, so how was he here? "Maybe you drank a little too much last night. She did warn me that you cannot handle that much alcohol."
Suddenly, Erik got out of his chair and hugged the man, who jumped a bit from the sudden affection. "How long has it been, my friend? A whole decade? Maybe more?"
"Uh, about thirteen hours, actually," Nadir said with confusion as he quickly checked his pocket watch. "Are you all right? You're acting strange."
"I missed you!" Erik exclaimed with genuine emotion.
"You definitely had too much to drink," he said as he gently pulled the older man off of him. "You have to pull yourself together if you don't want to embarrass yourself in front of Christine and the others."
At the sound of her name, he froze in place. What was she doing here? In fact, this whole scenario was confusing him. Perhaps he slept so hard that he was confusing reality with his dreams and memories again. In the past, his nightmares were so vivid that he sometimes mistaken them for memories, but at the same time, his reality was just as horrific. "Christine?"
"Yes, Christine, your soon-to-be wife? Remember?" Nadir said with a frustrated sigh. "Next time we go out, you are strictly drinking tea." He tried pushing Erik out of the room, but he stopped Nadir.
"My mask!" Erik said frantically as he went back to his desk to search for it.
"What would you need one for? It's a wedding, not a masquerade ball," he stated as he crossed his arms.
"I cannot believe you asked me that. Did you forget about my—," he tried to say, but stopped himself when he saw his reflection in a mirror. The face staring back at him was not the one he was accustomed to for all his life. He had smooth skin that was not yellowing or scarred. Every structure on his face was shaped normally and not defective in any way. He put a hand through his dark hair and it was real; not a wig. He was as handsome as he dreamed he would be if fate was kind to him and he started to tear up. Did he imagine such a hideous face all this time?
"Save those tears for your wife, Erik. Now, let's get going. We're already late," Nadir said as he pushed his friend towards the door and opened it for him. There was a bright light that blinded Erik for a moment before it died down, revealing a small chapel room with many people in attendance. All of them looked unfamiliar to him until he walked further and saw Madame Giry sitting in the front row. She was crying, but when she looked up to see him, he realized that they were tears of joy. At the side of the altar was Meg Giry, who wore a maroon dress that extended down to her feet and covered her upper arms. Nadir walked to the opposite side of the altar, which led Erik to believe that Meg was the maid of honor and Nadir was the best man. The elderly priest signaled Erik to take his spot at the center of the altar in front of him and he followed.
As soon as he reached his spot, organ music started to play and everyone stood up to greet the bride. The doors opened and Christine started walking down the aisle with a tear-filled smile on her face. She was wearing the wedding dress that Erik forced her to wear the last time they saw each other, but now it was accompanied by a long veil that was dragging behind her. She carried a bouquet filled with red roses that were all wrapped around with a black ribbon. Her brunette hair was hanging free and her makeup was subtle enough to amplify her beauty without being too much like for stage performances. Erik could not believe that he was privileged enough to see such a beautiful sight and felt overwhelmed with emotions. Was his miserable life all just a bad dream? Did Christine choose him after all? Everything he could have ever dreamt of was right before him and he hoped that nothing would take this moment away from him. She walked to Meg, who took her bouquet, and then toward Erik, never losing her smile for a moment. As he touched her warm and soft hands, he felt tears falling from his face and she was quick to wipe them away, only for her to cry with him. She was not faking this at all; she was genuinely happy to marry him.
The priest began the ceremony as the guests sat down and although he should be paying attention, Erik could only focus on his beloved Christine. She was truly like an angel: beautiful as she wore all white. All she was missing was her wings, but she sure did light up a room with her presence. Now, with his face free from his deformity, he can finally be the man that she deserved: one that can provide for her and love her the way she needed. He never imagined himself getting married, so he didn't have any clue on what it takes to be a good husband, but he was determined to do everything he could to keep her happy. That is the least he could do for the woman who gave him back some form of his humanity after a lifetime of darkness and cruelty.
"And do you, Erik Ravenswood, take Christine Daaé to be your lawfully wedded wife?" the priest asked. Erik looked at him confused when he heard his last name. Ravenswood; that is what he said, right? He did not have too much time to ponder as he felt the anticipating glares from everyone in the room.
"I-I do," he said nervously. He heard a couple of sighs of relief from the guests who were afraid he suddenly got cold feet. He looked back at the crowd to see if he could find Martha, Mélanie, and/or the servants, but they were nowhere in sight.
He found it strange they would not be there while he possessed their last name, but his thoughts were cut short when he heard Christine say, "I do."
"Then by the power invested in me, I pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride," the priest said with accomplishment. The two looked at each other and while Erik was a bit reluctant, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. Everyone cheered as the couple faced their guests and the priest continued, "I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Ravenswood!"
Erik felt a tug on his arm and turned his head to Christine. "Let's hurry to the reception. Everyone is telling me how much they are craving the wedding cake." He nodded and the two of them practically ran down the aisle toward the door. They opened on their own, revealing a large banquet hall full of people, probably more than who attended the ceremony. There were groups either gathering around the food, dancing to the music provided by the live orchestra, or conversing with other guests. Many overindulged in the liquor, but no one seemed to be causing any trouble. Everyone was having a good time, as long as no one decided to swing from the chandelier.
However, he felt a thud on his legs and looked down, surprised to see that a little girl had bumped into him. She had to be no older than four years old and had long black hair that obscured her face as she looked up at him. When she pushed her hair back, he could see emerald eyes and a linear birthmark that formed across her face.
"Diana, you need to look where you're going," a woman said as she approached Erik and hugged the child close to her. She was clearly her mother with the matching hair, except longer in length. She looked to be in her late-twenties and their eyes were a different color; the woman had sapphire blue instead of emerald green. What surprised him the most was that she wore a mask that hid the left side of her face, which made her stand out from the rest of the guests.
"But we need to say congra . . . congrafoo . . . cong . . . ," Diana dragged out, trying to figure out how to say the word she had in mind.
"Congratulations," the woman finished as she looked at Erik. "I have been meaning to say that to you all night, but you surrounded yourself with a lot of people that I didn't have the chance to. You know I'm not exactly a people-person." All night? He and Christine just entered the room moments ago. When she noticed his confused expression, she asked sweetly, "Are you all right, mon amie?"
"Y-Yes. It's been a long day, hasn't it?" he said nervously. He never met this woman in his life and yet she called him a friend. This day was getting weirder and weirder.
"It sure has, but I'm glad that you managed to finally secure some happiness in your life. You out of all people deserve it."
"I deserve it," he repeated to himself with a smile. Yes, he did deserve it. Whether it was a bad dream or not, the miserable life he was accustomed to was still traumatizing for him. So many tragedies occurred right after the other, enough to break a person's sanity. He was strong for enduring them, even if they were just nightmares.
"I just hope Mrs. Ravenswood will be the light you need to finally get you out of that pit of darkness. I must admit that I was scared that you couldn't put your past behind you after what happened, but you managed to calm my worries today."
"After what happened?" Erik asked.
"You . . . You remember, don't you? Or did you purposely try to forget?" she asked with a somber tone in her voice. "I personally believe we shouldn't try to forget what led us to where we are, but sometimes events are too painful to remember. I just hope you don't forget where the Ravenswood name came from."
"Oh, that reminds me: I was wondering if you've seen the Ravenswood family anywhere. I haven't been able to spot them anywhere with all these people."
The woman blinked a couple times before saying, "Erik, they di—,"
"Erika, Diana, there you are!" a brunette man exclaimed as he walked toward the trio. Something about him reminded him of someone, but Erik could not quite put his finger on who. "And it seems you managed to find the man of the hour. Congratulations on your wedding," he said as he extended his hand out for Erik to grab. He was reluctant, but he did.
"Papa, did you find her and wish her congratoo . . . congrats!" Diana exclaimed with some annoyance. Her parents chuckled a bit, which alleviated some of the tension earlier.
"Oui, but so many people want to speak with her that our conversation got cut off abruptly. I guess being family was not enough to get her undivided attention," he said with a defeated smile and he put a hand behind his head.
"Perhaps we should invite her to lunch some time so the two of you can catch up," Erika said as she walked to the man and wrapped her arm around his. "That is, if your schedules don't conflict. There is no rest for opera singers, after all."
"But you own the theater. Can you not give me a break?"
"I will consider it," she teased before kissing him on the cheek. "Erik, I hope that you will tell Christine about this. Christopher would greatly appreciate it."
Erik finally figured it out! This man was Christine's cousin, Christopher Daaé, the male star of the Palais Garnier before it too burned down. However, Erik thought he married a noblewoman that looked completely different from the woman before him, or at least, that was what the papers said. Plus, if he had a daughter, that would have been headlined on all the papers.
Soon, they heard Diana yawn and raise her arms so her father would pick her up. As he did so, he said, "Well, I guess we should get going. If we don't get her to bed, she will be cranky tomorrow."
"Of course," Erik said, finally giving in to the confusion and just letting the world around him fall into place as intended.
"Thank you so much for inviting us again. It truly was a wonderful night," Erika said before the family left his presence, leaving him alone. Despite them mentioning others trying to get his attention earlier, no one approached Erik since they left. In fact, he seemed to be invisible to the rest of the party. He didn't mind that, though, since he was always anxious around people, but he did hope to talk to Christine again before the night was over. He looked around for his bride, but she was nowhere to be found in the sea of people. He even tried to ask anyone if they had seen her, but they didn't even acknowledge him. He was becoming a bit frantic as he searched every corner of the place with no luck.
Eventually, he walked out of the door to the hall, only to be met with cold night air that made him shiver and hold on to his arms tightly to keep warm. He was surprised to see himself at a pier this close to the hall, but noticed a woman in white at the end. He started walking toward her, hoping it was Christine, but with only the moonlight shining on them, he wasn't sure if it was. However, as he got closer to the woman, he realized that it was not Christine, even though she too was wearing a wedding dress, and she started singing a haunting lullaby:
This town is coarse and cold and mean
It's hard to keep your conscience clean
Faceless in the crowd
Anything's allowed
And so I come at dawn each day
Come to wash it all away
Erik was a bit hesitant to approach her after hearing those lyrics, but he noticed that Chrsitine was in front of the woman and she had a terrified expression on her face. He was very concerned, especially when he heard noises that came from a gun and saw the woman extend her arm to reveal a revolver in her hand. "E-Erik," Chrsitine said timidly, hoping to not aggravate the woman, but also warn him of the dangers they were in.
Soon, the woman turned his direction and he knew who she was: Mélanie Ravenswood. Her makeup was smeared, especially around her eyes that broadcasted her crying just moments before. Her skin looked pale, but her lips were a dark shade of red. Her hair looked unkempt, but it was hidden behind a veil that looked more like cobwebs. She wore a broach that was decorated in silver and diamond with a large black gem in the center. "Mélanie, put the gun down," Erik said gently.
"Why should I? Just so you can live a happily ever after that you created out of our misery?" she said as she cocked the gun and aimed it at him. He lifted his arms out of fear and did not say a word. "You used us. We gave you everything you wanted. We took you in, fed you, paid you, clothed you, and so much more and how do you repay us? By taking everything I have ever loved away from me."
"I don't have the faintest clue what you're talking about," Erik said genuinely, but he knew better than most that sometimes you can't rationalize with a person during their psychosis.
"Don't lie to me, Erik! You know what you did! All because I wanted to be happy. Did you think I never suffered? I endured a lot of pain in my life, but you never cared. Just because you were miserable does not mean you must drag others into your own tragic story."
"Mélanie, I am sorry," he said. He didn't know what he was apologizing for, but he had to say at least that if he wanted to leave with his and Christine's life. "I promise to make amends to you, but you need to put the gun down. We don't need to cause any more pain for anyone."
"It's too late, Erik. What happens next will forever haunt you and I sure hope that it eats away at your conscience," Mélanie said before turning to Christine and pulling the trigger. Erik gasped at the sound and his blood ran cold as he saw Christine's white dress start to change to blood red.
"No, Christine!" Erik said as he ran to her, but no matter how fast he ran, he didn't seem to get any closer to her despite leaving Mélanie far behind him. He watched helplessly as she started to collapse and fall over the edge of the pier into the waters below. Erik yelled again as he used all his energy to run to her. He finally made it to the edge and did not hesitate for a moment as he jumped down despite the high distance. Her body had already submerged in the water, but he was determined to save the only good thing in his life. He could not let her die right when they promised to spend the rest of their lives together. If there was a God, he hoped that He would grant him this one miracle. Despite not being near Mélanie, he could still hear her sing as if she was right at his ear:
Sink into the sea, blue and cool and kind
Let it set me free, let the past unwind
Leave the hurt behind
Erik shot up from the bed, nearly throwing himself off of it. He was breathing heavily and covered in sweat. He looked around and thankfully found himself in the spare room that Martha gave him. He tried to take a few deep breaths to calm his nerves, but his heart was racing so fast that it took a while. All of that was a dream after all. Although the details were slowly starting to fade from his memory, the emotions connected to the dream would probably stay with him for the rest of his life.
Once he was calm, he put his head against his pillow and was about to fall back to sleep (or at least attempt to), but he wanted to check on something first. He put a hand on his nightstand and felt his mask, just where he left it hours earlier. He then touched his face and felt the rough patches and ill-fitting skin that made up his deformity. He was definitely back in reality, much to his regret, but at the same time, he did not want to relive his dream even if it started with unbelievable happiness.
It was normal for him to have nightmares, but this one shook him to his core. Even though his dreams sometimes made him relive horrific memories, this was by far the worst. Being abused, used, shamed, and threatened was nothing compared to nearly losing the only source of happiness in his life. He wondered if he was cursed to live in misery, but as long as Christine was alive and well, he would continue to live his life. Would it be foolish of him to believe that she would wish him a better life after they parted? It would be a mystery that probably would never be answered and right now, all he wanted was to go back to sleep and hope to not dream.