Erik Destler, known to the world as "The Phantom of the Opera," sat at the grand organ within the opulent and intricate lair he had crafted for himself beneath the Palais Garnier. His sanctuary, hidden away in the labyrinthine tunnels, was an unexpected marvel of decadence and elegance, a stark contrast to the dark and enigmatic figure who resided there.

His thoughts were consumed by the image of his cherished "angel of music." This young woman, whom he had meticulously nurtured and guided since she first arrived at the Opera House at the tender age of seven, had grown into a prodigious talent. Despite her undeniable brilliance, she had remained blissfully unaware of the visage of her mysterious mentor. Erik, disfigured beyond recognition, bore a face marred by a severe scar on one side, while the other remained handsome and unblemished. To conceal this grotesque deformity, he wore a white porcelain mask that veiled the disfigured half of his face.

Erik’s presence in her life had been a phantom’s presence indeed—an unseen guardian. He communicated with her through dreams and made clandestine visits to the small chapel in the Palais Garnier where she routinely lit a candle in memory of her deceased father.

Tonight, however, marked a momentous departure from his usual routine. His angel was to be the Prima Donna in the evening's performance, an honor she so richly deserved. Her talent far surpassed that of the current Prima Donna, Carlotta, whose performances paled in comparison to the young woman’s extraordinary abilities. Erik would be ensconced in his customary vantage point, Box Five, providing him with an unobstructed view of her debut in the spotlight.

Tonight, he resolved, was a night of significant importance. Not only would he witness his angel’s long-awaited ascent to prominence, but he would also, for the first time, make his presence known to her in person. After the performance, Erik was determined to visit her, to offer his heartfelt congratulations.