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Chapter 16: The Ball, again

"Ah, mademoiselle Christine, I'm so very glad you came!" The mustached manager turned to face Christine as she approached him with a broad smile.

The second manager was somewhere across the room, talking casually to some Viscount. The first glanced across to the other for a moment, then slid his eyes back to her. "You look very well." He informed her, reaching up to straighten his tie.

Christine bowed her head, murmuring a thank you for the compliment and the carriage. It had been a nice pleasure to have someone assist her inside, with the promise of taking you somewhere that you normally would have had to walk miles to reach.

"I- yes. Well, you will need to be introduced." The manager told her, gingerly he held out his arm. "Allow me, please." He added.

Christine gave him a patient smile, and he began to guide her from person to person with the expertise of an experienced high class gentleman. Several dozen faces came and went, with Christine smiling and informing patrons and interested investors of the opera that the new production was going splendidly.

And it was, really, Christine told herself. It was just that she had forgotten how busy being in the play could be.

It didn't help that she was the lead lady now, and that she had to run through song after song, time after time. It had been so long since she had done this.

Erik made it ten times worse, because he was being so particular.

He always had had a heavy hand in casting and details. But now no incompetence was allowed whatsoever, the Orchestra was completely rearranged, the lead male had been sacked as unceremoniously as Carlotta and replaced with a far better member of the chorus.

Hourly notes were sent with a long list of critiques and "suggestions" for change. This singer was flat, this set piece must be repainted and moved, this costume must be changed.

Even the dancers suffered from his endless criticisms, where before they had been mostly exempt.

Only Christine stayed relatively unscathed, with only the occasional reminder to practice and a gentle correction here and there.

But of course she didn't tell the smiling higher ups that. She told them of the beautiful sets, and the costumes the seamstresses were furiously sewing. And the music? Well, the music was splendid, like nothing they had ever heard before.

That, at least, she felt she could comment positively on.

Champagne was passed round, the manager offered Christine a glass but she waved him off. "I don't drink." She explained. He nodded, looking puzzled, but stayed silent while sipping his glass.

Finally when she had been introduced to everyone worth knowing, Christine was allowed to sit on a chair on the sidelines to catch her breath.

Gingerly the manager sat beside her and finished the glass of champagne in one swallow. "I suppose I should tell you why we were so insistent on you having that role." He said.

Christine tilted her head towards him. "Oh?"

"I apologize about our behavior." He said, waving over a servant to take the empty glass. "You're right, you should be able to quit at any time."

Christine smiled, and nodded to encourage him.

"But we need you to play the role, you see," He hesitated, then turned to look at her directly in the eye. "Mademoiselle Carlotta wanders why we don't call the police, but we have." He said firmly. "They have investigated, and have decided that the best way to handle this is through trickery."

Christine's stomach plummeted, she gripped the dress, twisting it on her finger. "Really?"

"I know it seems silly, with all the mysteries things that have happened." He continued. "But we believe that it is not a ghost that haunts us at all, but a clever man. We intend to catch him."

"Really?" Christine whispered.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier." He murmured. "But I wasn't sure- well. He could be listening anywhere in the Opera House. We're trying not to mention it around there."

"What makes you think that he's a man?" Her voice sounded foreign to her, small and scared.

"What ghost needs money?" The manager answered grimly. "I have examined you closely Mademoiselle Daae, you seem be a women with a sound mind, and I believe you deserve to know." He took a deep breath. "On the night of the first performance, twelve officers will dress as rich gentleman, each with their own box. When the performance begins, and he is sitting in his box, they will draw and shoot box 5. One of them is bound to hit him."

She couldn't breath, her mind was spinning, she licked her lips and gave him a pained smile. "And where do I fit into this?" There was that small frightened voice again.

Blood on her hands, blood on her dress.

"The only times when he is not in his box during the performance is when we have not followed his commands." The manager said softly. "He's off causing mischief. We are trying to follow his instructions to the letter, so that he might feel satisfied enough to watch the performance rather than trying to hurt it."

"That's very clever." Christine said, releasing her dress and twisting it around another finger.

"I just can't figure out why he feels the need to do this!" The manager huffed, twisting his own finger round his mustache. "He's obviously knowledgeable about Opera, and goodness knows we need the help." He shook his head. "But now he's gone too far, he's threatened us and we believe he's already killed one man."

He glanced at Christine. "Ah, but of course, you don't want to hear about that. I'm sorry."

Christine shrugged. "It matters not to me. Speak however you wish."

He paused to stare at her for a time, and then said. "I never would have guessed that you could sing so well."

"Most ballet instructors don't." She tore off her gloves, carefully folding them and unfolding them.

"Truly, you have a gift, why did you not audition sooner?"

Christine pressed her lips together and gave a heavy sigh, she looked down at the half folded gloves.

"I have no love for fame."

"No love for fame-" The man balked. "Mademoiselle, you would be great! No Opera House will refuse you after this, if all goes well."

Christine glanced at him, a wry smile appearing on her face. "That is exactly why I don't enjoy it. I don't want crowds of adoring fans, nor people begging for me to partake in their Opera's and plays." She looked down at her glove. "I want people around me, not crowds, people who respect me, and whom I respect in turn."

The manager nodded. "I see." He gestured for a servant, he grasped another glass of champagne. "I hope all goes well for you either way. I believe that this will change everything, no matter how this ends."

Christine nodded. "I agree. I hope the best for you as well."

Suddenly the manager perked, looking across the room. "I believe someone is calling for me." He said. "Excuse me for a moment."

He stood, leaving Christine alone.

She watched him in mild curiosity, watched him approach the second manager, who was gesturing wildly towards his partner. Beside him looking mildly bemused was a sandy haired young man, perhaps twenty or twenty one.

Christine frowned, he looked vaguely familiar, but perhaps it was-

She sucked in her breath, her fingers gripped her gloves and she stood resolutely up. Her feet walked across the room, Christine's eyes never leaving that smiling young face.

Blonde hair, small mustache, blue eyes...

His nose was crooked, as if someone had punched it out of alignment some time ago. His suit was fine tailoring, but a little tight around the shoulders, he wore no gloves and his skin was heavily tanned.

"-he's agreed to help us, with his influence the police should-" the second manager froze when he saw Christine step next to him. He glanced at her, then the boy, whom she was still staring at.

Suddenly, Christine smiled brightly, and held out her hand to shake. "Christine Daae." She said brightly. "Lead singer at the Opera House currently."

The man examined her hand, then gingerly shook it. "Raoul, Raoul de Chagney, officer in the navy."

Christine smile grew more forced, her stomach twisting in horror as she stared at him.

"Pleasure." She said through her teeth.

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