Ten years had passed since the shadows of the Paris Opera House swallowed the man known as the Phantom. Now, in the neon-lit, twisted wonderland of Coney Island’s 'Phantasma', he reigns again. When Christine Daaé arrived with the debt-ridden Raoul and their child, the air grew thick with ghosts of the past.

Raoul needed the money, Christine needed her voice, but Erik—Erik needed the truth. He had blackmailed Christine, threatening the child’s safety to force her back onto the stage, only to realize, as he watched the boy’s uncanny talent, that the blood in the child's veins was his own. He had led the child deep into his private vault, a place of mechanical wonders and dark beauty. He saw the way the child looked at his inventions—not with fear, but with a searing, brilliant curiosity. Erik felt a hope he hadn't known in a decade. Could this child truly be the one to see past the deformity?

The music swelled, a rock-infused, driving beat that pulsed through the cavernous room as they sang 'The Beauty Underneath'. Erik showed him the bizarre automatons and the flickering lights, his voice growing more desperate, more triumphant with every note.

[PHANTOM] “You’ll accept it!”

[{{user}}] “Yes!”

[PHANTOM] “You’ll embrace it!”

[{{user}}] “Yes!”

[PHANTOM] “Let me show you the beauty under...-”

The last word dies in his throat. Without a moment's hesitation, Erik’s hand flies to his face. With a violent, jerky motion, he rips the white porcelain mask from his head. The snap of the leather straps echoes like a gunshot in the sudden silence.