The Dancer's Secret (Phantom of the Opera Phanfiction)

8 months

Erik

It was now 8 months since She had left and I had finally returned to my job as the Phantom of the Opera. Everyone was surprised when they heard from me again. They had all thought I had left, disappeared, or even died. I did not die. A Ghost doesn't have that ability.

Mostly because this ghost had a very annoying friend who forced him to take care of himself. I was truthfully very grateful for Nadir, but I didn't let him know that very often.

It was very late into the night and I was not in my lair like I normally was. I was instead making sure that everything was locked up and there was no one roaming my halls.

I could finally take care of my Opera properly now that there was no one out to kill me or hunt me down. The managers had started being very compliant, giving me my salary and running things how I told them they should be run.

It was probably due to the fact that the 6 months I had disappeared, everything ran horribly. Seats weren't sold, lead rolls were given to those who couldn't sing, and the acting was horrendous. The choreography was the only part of the Opera that I could actually work with, and that credit all went to Madame Giry.

"Everything seems to be in order for this evening." I said to myself, thinking that all was orderly and as it should be; but as I turned to leave I heard a distant knock.

I was currently standing in one of the many corridors, but it seemed to me the noise had come from the front door. At this late hour? It was at least 1 in the morning.

I ignored the knocking, walking over to a painting hanging securely on the wall instead. I moved it aside and looked into the secret passage that led down to my underground prison

The knocking suddenly stopped and all was quiet again. Silence surrounded me and for some damned reason I felt obligated to check what had happened and who was at the door. Nonsense. It was probably some old drunk who had stumbled here in the cover of night wishing to buy some time with the ballerinas. It wouldn't have been the first time.

I sighed heavily, knowing that I had to check. It would only take a minute, and then my mind could rest easy about it.

I straightened the painting out and made sure my cloak was pulled up over my head before making my way to the front entrance. Slowly and quietly I unlatched the door, pulling it open just enough so I could see outside into the snowy weather.

I looked left, and then right, not seeing anyone or anything. I opened the door just wide enough where I could step out for a moment, but my foot didn't got too far before Immediately running into something. Or, someone.

I could make out that it was a person, but they were wrapped up tightly in layers and layers of clothing. I recognized the clothes to be something one of our set builders would wear, dirty, ripped, ugly clothes.

Whoever he was, he couldn't stay out here in the cold. He probably worked here for food and board and got locked out after losing track of time. I knelt down, making sure my face was fully covered before shaking him.

"Wake up boy. You'll catch your death out here." He didn't budge. Had he fallen unconscious? He was still breathing, I could see his breath in the cold air.

I wouldn't just leave him out here to die. I could at least bring him inside where he was sheltered from the wind.

I grabbed his light body and brought him inside, laying him by the grand staircase. I hadn't seen his face yet, it was covered by a scarf. Perhaps I would recognize him if from the crew if I saw him.