Unrequited Lullaby: A Phantom of the Opera Fanfic (Chapter One)

Juliet Marie Moncharmin was a skeptic when it came to matters of fantasy and magic, but her job as a stage actress demanded it of her to at least pretend to believe in it. She was already a well-known member of the opera populaire even before her foster father, M. Armand Moncharmin, and his friend, M. Firmin Richard, were appointed to be the new acting managers of the Paris Opera House and she was much more aware of the issues of the opera ghost.

“They wouldn’t listen to me, Rémy,” she said to her father’s secretary when she was in his office after the last gala performance of Polyeucte for the retirement of MM. Debienne and Poligny. “I tell them the Opera Ghost is nothing but a man in the shadows playing practical jokes and enjoying our utmost reactions to his threats and commands, but they choose not to believe me.” She crosses her arms and leans on the table while the young man sat and did his paperwork.

“It is after all hard to believe, Juliet,” Rémy said as he glanced up at her with his intense sea green eyes. “Tonight the dancers had seen Joseph Buquet’s corpse hanged by the Opera Ghost’s hand—.”

“They had seen his body, not his death or who killed him. They all think the ghost would be the cause of all these unexplainable mishaps!” she cut in, glaring at him. Rémy flinched a little in surprise at her sudden snap of voice. He had dark brown hair; a tall, well built figure and an amiable smile that made him look younger than his years while Juliet had alarming sky blue eyes, long scarlet hair, a beautiful slim figure and a voice that could make angels cry. He looked at her with sternness of his age of a man of six and twenty. “Juliet.”

The girl sighed and looked at her friend in worry. “I’m sorry.”

Rémy cleared his throat and said to her, “Calming down would be a great exercise for you.” He stood and made his way to sit on the sofa by the window.

“And seeing reason would be a great exercise for everyone,” she replied while falling on the sofa beside him. She leaned against his shoulder and sadly stared at the ground while playing with his left hand.

“Is something wrong?” he asked gently. Juliet shook her head.

“I know something’s bothering you, Juliet. Tell me.” He thought for a moment as he wrapped his right arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer. “Is it because of Christine Daaé’s performance?” he could feel her grip tighten around his hand as she answered bluntly, “The girl is weak. She fainted right after the song.”

Upon hearing that, Rémy burst to laughter. “Are you jealous of her?!”

“Why would I be jealous of that ingrate?!”

“Well, for one she had gotten more applause tonight—.”

“The first is always the loudest.”

“She had gotten Vicomte Raoul de Changny’s attention—.”

“Two imbeciles: a perfect match!”

Rémy turned and smiled at her. “Are you really looking for reasons to despise her?”

Juliet managed a smile, but not meeting his eyes. “No. I don’t despise her or the daft Vicomte. They’ve known each other since they were children, so it’s not much of a surprise to me that they would grow in love with one another.”

He held her hand to make her calm again. “Did you know them both?”

She turned and looked at him in the eyes. “I did. I grew up with them before fate bought me to Armand Moncharmin. You know me, Rémy, I’m not competitive when it comes to my friends and family. I love them both equally like a younger brother and sister, that’s why I can call them those things: I can judge them because I know them.”

“But still.” He tapped her nose with his finger and leaned close. “Call them both imbeciles?” Juliet giggled and answered, “It’s true! I could tell that they are just acting shy around each other because of the years that had come between them. If they’d just be more… direct with one another, things wouldn’t be so difficult for the two of them.”

“And how does that make you feel?”

“What does?”

“That Christine gets the Vicomte?” he asked a little sadly and in worry of what she might say next. “That she is the one whom the Vicomte loves?”

Juliet looked at him in amusement. “What I feel for them? Well, of course I feel glad that it would be the two of them who’d be together.”

“O-oh…” Rémy was suddenly afraid, then relived of her answer. Juliet quickly understood what he meant. She smirked.

“Why? Were you worried I had feelings for Raoul?”

Rémy just smiled and looked at her as he said, “Yes, I was. Just imagine all the anxiety you would be experiencing! And then you would always go to me crying out, ‘Oh, Rémy why can’t he be mine?! What does she have that I don’t?!’”

Rémy’s words made Juliet smile and, hearing her laughter; he knew his day was complete. He just had to smile himself, highlighting all his handsome features. Perhaps he found it wrong to romantically love his employer’s daughter, but he found suppressing his feelings more difficult each day. It hurt him too, since he knew her well enough to know he wasn’t the one to fill the emptiness in her heart. He sadly smiled at himself for that as he just enjoyed that moment with her.

A faint knock was heard while Juliet and Rémy were still there, staring at each other. “Come in,” Juliet says. They didn’t even bother to shift their position when the Vicomte Raoul de Changny entered the room. He wore a black suit and white gloves, his long light blond hair was tied with a ribbon and his beautiful blue eyes shone with worry at first, but upon entering the room and seeing the two, his uneasy look was suddenly replaced by a surprised and curious glance at them.

“Hello, Raoul,” Juliet said as she smiled.

“How may I assist the Vicomte de Changny?” Rémy asked as he nodded and smiled.

Raoul smiled back and chuckled. “If this is not the most appropriate time, excuse me for the intrusion. I will just come back later.”

“Oh, Raoul, you needn’t be uncomfortable with us,” Juliet says. “Just say what you want.”

“Alright then,” he said. Turning to Rémy and smiling, he asks, “Is she your lover?”

Rémy and Juliet laughed and spoke at the same time:

“I wish.”

“What, no!” Later, Juliet heard what Rémy said and turned to him with a questioning look. He turned to her and playfully said, “I mean it.” Juliet’s eyes widened and chuckled happily at him. “Oh, you.”

Meanwhile, Raoul could see the blooming romance in the room and that made him momentarily forget his purpose for entering the first place and just felt happy for the two. But he also despaired because he could tell by her actions that Juliet might not feel the same for Rémy. He looked at Juliet and noticed how she’s grown since the last time they saw each other. She was older than both Raoul and Christine, but she never acted officious towards them, she’d be their mother figure; and considering that Raoul and Christine both lost their mothers at birth, Juliet made a large contribution to their childhood.

“Well, I can’t see anything wrong when friends sit like this at night,” Juliet said.

“Then why didn’t we sit like that as children, Juliet?” Raoul mocks.

“And let Christine misunderstand everything and become completely jealous of us?!” Juliet said. “Now, that’d be very cruel to be offered by someone like you, Raoul.”

He suddenly remembered why he went there. He turned serious.

“Juliet, Christine fainted.”

“I know,” she answered casually.

“Well, aren’t you going to do anything about it?! M. Rémy, what of it?”

“I had just spoken to the doctor and he says mademoiselle Daaé’s condition will be better after a night’s rest,” Rémy replied. “You needn’t worry monsieur.”

Raoul didn’t look entirely convinced and just stayed where he was as he looked at them meaningfully.

“Raoul,” Juliet said in an assuring tone. “She’ll be alright, I promise.”

“P-promises are rarely kept,” he mumbled while looking down. Juliet snapped.

“Look, do you WANT me to keep on acting as if Christine would die at any moment?! She’s fine Raoul.”

“Alright!”

“Yes, now go to the grand ballroom, the new managers will be looking for their benefactor. Don’t raise an alarm by staying out of their sight for too long.”

She had just reminded him of that, so he gave in and just cleared his throat. “Yes, you’re right. Thank you.” He then thought of her history. “A-aren’t you coming?”

Juliet shook her head and just assured him that all was well and that no one was expecting her.

When Rémy and she were alone again, Juliet looked at her friend and wondered if he really meant what he said earlier, but she thought not to mention it again. “Why aren’t you out there?” Rémy looked at her and said, “I think I’d rather be here than there.”

“Why?”

“Well, I find myself happier here,” he replied sincerely. “Unlike you, a crowd makes me uneasy especially when they expect me to make good conversation just because I am monsieur Monchamin and Richard’s secretary.”

Juliet rolled her eyes. “Everyone will be busy entertaining father and monsieur Richard to notice you if you go.”

“Then you’d be left alone again,” he smiled.

“I don’t mind.” She stood from his arms and sat at his table. “If I am keeping you from having a good time in the party, then I apologize. Go. I’ll finish these papers for you tonight.” She started studying the papers on the desk.

“I am not going anywhere,” he said as he went to a chair across her. He watched her read the accounts of her father on his desk and while getting immersed in an article, she wrinkles her brow and takes a deep breath.

“What is it?” Rémy asks.

“It is about the Opera Ghost again,” she answers him unsurely. She bit her lip and continued reading the article. “It’s the affair with Box Five.” When she finished one part; she looks up to meet Rémy’s eyes, which were observing her calmly.

She unconsciously lowers her voice to a whisper at him, “Are the accounts true about that box?” Juliet knew of it from the beginning: they say that Box Five was the Phantom’s box and that it would always be kept empty for his use during performances of the opera. No one has taken the courage to defy any of his rules or sit at his box, so there are no exact witnesses to his true character or ghostly image.

Rémy looked away and gave a moment to think of what to say next. He nods and looks at Juliet. “The only account of that is the account of Madame Giry, the box keeper—the only one who has ever had contact with the Ghost.”

Juliet furrows her brow at him. “Contact? Are you saying she has never seen him?”

“Not by the record there.”

She didn’t know why, but she wanted to prove them all wrong. She wanted to show the world the Phantom of the Opera was just a fictional character who only existed for the sake of terrifying entertainment in the opera. She knew the Paris Opera house wouldn’t stoop so low to gain publicity as to make up stories about murdering ghosts.

“You don’t have anymore files on the Ghost?”

Rémy smiled. “Not yet.”

“What do you mean?”

The young secretary stood and started looking for something in his bag on the lounge chair. “What I mean, is that since your father is the new manager, he can elaborate on uncovering the Ghost’s story.”—he pulls out a thick brown leather journal and walked back to her—“And being his daughter, you can do the same.” He looked at the notebook in his hands and then glanced up. He smiled upon seeing her slightly surprised face when he handed her the journal. Rémy nodded and sat back down beside her.

“I know why you want to solve this riddle,” he said. “Take this chance and unearth this Phantom of the Opera.”

Juliet held the journal tightly in her hands as if it were her new life source all embodied in a million pages held together by a golden string and hard bound to make a miniature book. But she knew that this might be asking too much from M. Rémy…

“I thank you, Rémy, but are you certain of leaving your—”

“Please take that as a gift from me,” he cut her. “I would not have given that to just anyone who can write a few fancy words and call it art and study.”

Juliet held his gaze and said, “You put much trust in me. I fear I’ll disappoint you.”

He shook his head and placed a hand on hers. “You will not disappoint anyone just as long as fear of something that is yet to come would not divert your attention from your true goal.”

She nodded and said silently, “Find the truth of the Phantom of the Opera.”

That sweet stare of reverie was soon intercepted by little Meg Giry, still in her costume who came into the room, calling them out to at least make one appearance at the party in behalf of M. Moncharmin.

* * *

The party was loud and happy in the grand ballroom despite the horror of what happened earlier that night with concern for Joseph Buquet. The entire ambiance of the celebration was lighted cheerfully when the opera populaire and other invited guests enjoyed string quartet’s songs and the exquisite food served while others greeted MM. Moncharmin and Richard as the new managers while expressing their thanks for the ex-managers of the opera, MM. Debienne and Poligny. When Rémy and Juliet entered the ballroom, they weren’t much noticed except for the new and the ex-managers who came towards them on sight.

“It’s great to see that you two do care to see us off,” Debienne said to them.

“I always thought a private goodbye would be more sincere and dramatic,” Juliet said.

“Indeed, it is.” Debienne said with a straight face, but a moment later they all laughed at the thought. Juliet smiled and hugged the two. She thanked them greatly and soon inquired of where they would be after their time at the Paris Opera House.

At this time, Rémy had gone to talk with the two new managers who had started noticing his interest in Juliet. They looked at him with an expecting stare and a gesture towards them. Rémy, on his part, figured they had known his secret, cleared his throat and asked, “How long have you known?”

“Rémy, you are a man of many sociable and occupational talents, but putting on an act isn’t one of them,” Richard said. “Ironically, in fact, since you spend so much time here with the best talent in all of France and yet you don’t adapt their faculty.”

Rémy chuckled and said, “Such talent is a gift and a motivation that would only manifest selectively in individuals, where I do not include myself.”

“Ah but, this still would not conceal the obviousness of your affections for my daughter,” Moncharmin said monotonously.

“Yes, I’ve noticed that for myself as well,” Rémy stated with a slight tone of sadness. He was honestly afraid of her father’s disapproval since Rémy was only, after all, his secretary. He thought he didn’t have much to offer, when everyone else knew he was a very desirable companion for both a friend and a lover. “I do not even know if this feeling for her is an honorable one.”

“I would need to agree with you there, monsieur Rémy,” Moncharmin said firmly at him. “Though we have only known each other for a few days now, I feel a rooting trust in you with Juliet. But just because she has known you longer than I have and that I trust Juliet with my life, doesn’t mean I can fully trust you the same way and especially when it concerns her happiness.”

“I understand.” Rémy nodded and looked back at him with determined eyes. “I’ll prove my worth and it would be her choice when I have reached my limit.”

Moncharmin regarded him with strong and intense eyes. “Indeed it will. But I warn you, Rémy, she isn’t a steady soul.”

This had vexed the young man. “What do you mean?”

“What I mean is to think carefully of all this and,”—Moncharmin smirked and stared at something behind Rémy—“to put your best card down.”

Rémy looked at him curiously, but his look was suddenly surprised when Richard took a step towards him, grabbed his arm and turns him to face Juliet who was already approaching them. Of course, the two bumped into each other at the toes.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Rémy said embarrassed as he stepped back. “Did I hurt you?”

“I’m alright,” she answered. Then she was suddenly full of concern. “But, are you alright? You look unsteady. ”

He breathed out and glanced behind of him as he said, “No, I’m just… I got pushed from behind by monsieur—.” He turns and discovers that the two managers had disappeared from where they were and transferred to another side of the crowd, entertaining more guests.

“Monsieur No One, I see,” Juliet smiled and took a spot beside him to watch the ending of one dance. She suddenly looked down and seemed in deep contemplation as she said to Rémy in a hushed voice, “They wished me luck with the Opera Ghost.”

“And luck shall you have,” Rémy said as he glanced towards Moncharmin and sees him studying them slyly with impassive eyes. This was the chance… he cleared his throat and said, “Lovely evening.”

“I s-suppose it…is,” Juliet said as she caught sight of a black cloak in movement at the second floor that was overlooking the ballroom. She stared at where it went, mystified to see a face underneath which she did not get to see very clearly. She was suddenly lost to the world, curious on who that mysterious being could be.

“Juliet.” Rémy’s voice interrupted her pondering.

“Uh, I’m sorry, did you say something?” she asked as she slowly removed her gaze from the figure, turning to an uneasy Rémy. He took a breath. “Would you like to dance?”

“Of course,” she replied and took his outstretched hand. Together, they made their way to the dance floor and waited for the music.

Juliet smiled to her advantage since dancing around like this would look less suspicious than walking around in circles to follow the dark figure. When they had started the waltz, she smiled and happily danced with her friend while glancing around the second floor from time to time. They danced gracefully and they just couldn’t be missed as some of the crowd took leave from whatever they were doing just to watch them. As she turned, Juliet wasn’t sure if the figure was looking at her or something else, but either way, she had put on an unperturbed attitude all throughout the dance. When they had finished the dance and thanking everyone for their compliments, Rémy smiled and planted a kiss on her cheek. “Thank you,” he said.

“And I thank you,” she replied, not disturbed by his action.

Later, Juliet excused herself away and started going upstairs to the wing where she had last seen the figure.

Juliet arrived at the place but she did not see the mysterious character there anymore instead, she found a black rose at the banister from where the figure had been watching the party. She took the rose in her hand and observed it peculiarly.

“That is not for you,” a harsh voice behind her said. She turned around and saw the figure more closely now. It was a man all in black who wore half a white mask on the right side of his face. His eyes were a deep gray and were stunningly beautiful but they were also distorted by a scowl behind the mask.

“I never claimed it to be,” Juliet said firmly at him. She puts the rose back on the banister and turned with suspicious eyes at him. “Who are you?”

The man made his way beside her and glanced at the crowd below as he answered, “I praise your waltz, mademoiselle. I am a spectator, nothing else.” He had a deep but fluid voice and was a great deal taller than Juliet was by half a foot and three inches. His height made her crane her neck like in a proud manner and matched her dialogue.

“I am not asking what you are,” Juliet said. “I am asking who you are.”

Her calm and unyielding tone surprised him, but he showed no sign of it. He reached in his coat pocket and pulled out a red rose with a black ribbon tied around it and offered it to her as he kept a firm jaw.

“I am the Opera Ghost.”

* * *

“Where did that come from?” Rémy asked cautiously at Juliet when she met him at the door of the managers’ office, greatly noticing the rose in her hand. She smiled at the flower and smelt the sweet fragrance of it and felt the soft dark ribbon.

“Oh, from a spectator—” she laughed gently and turned to look back at Rémy with sparkling eyes “—a spectator who claims to be the Opera Ghost!”

“The Opera Ghost!” Rémy exclaimed. “What do you mean?”

Juliet only laughed and entered the office and sat at the desk. “A pretender acting the ghost gave me a rose and complimenting our dance.”

“I still don’t understand if I should call your father or a doctor,” Rémy says, a little worried and jealous of whomever gave the rose that was the new source of happiness for Juliet. This mysterious character was trying to send a message to her, but what?

“Don’t call anyone, Rémy, we won’t be needing company,” she said as she started sorting out the papers. “We can manage here fine.”

“I mean to call someone to check your sanity.”

Upon hearing him, she pouted. “Why would you do that? I’m fine. I just got this rose from a man in a mask who left as soon as he gave me this.”

“Really?” Rémy asked. “Well, what was his name?”

“He just said Opera Ghost,” Juliet said a little irritated. “Rémy, I suggest you not to worry, no harm came to me. He didn’t even look frightening.”

“Well, looks can be deceiving. What if he comes back?”

“Then what? He’ll come back to watch the opera. That’s what spectators do.”

“But you said he came to watch you dance, not the opera for that matter.”

She shook her head. “There was another rose intended for some other girl. I’m not his target.”

“And knowing some other girl of the Opera Populaire is in some danger would be completely fine with you?”

“Yes.”

“You’re evil.”

“You’re worrying too much.” Juliet turns to him with a serious face. “Rémy, we’re not even sure if this is the Opera Ghost. His features does not match little Jammes’ account of his appearance and he wasn’t all that ghostly. He was mysterious, yes; but not ghostly. He could just be a man in a cloak trying to scare us.”

After a minute, Rémy thought to let it slip and gave up with the argument. “Alright then, leave it to Providence.” He soon mumbled to himself as he read through the theatre’s bills, “And I thought he was planning to make designs on you.”

“What did you say?”

“I was afraid he was in love with you,” Rémy said very casually and not breaking his concentration on the papers he was reading.

“That is a funny notion,” she said after a chuckle. She thought it silly. It was just a rose, after all. It didn’t mean much. Or did it? “Tell me, Rémy, how does it feel to fall in love?”

He was suddenly taken back in surprise at her question. He answered sincerely and while looking directly at her, said, “Enchanting and magical.”

Juliet smiles and says, “Come now, stop joking.”

“B-but I’m not,” he says.

“You’ve fallen in love before?” she asks curiously.

“Yes, and I can tell you that for all the words in the world, you will not find the right ones to perfectly explain love.”

Juliet sighed and looked at him in slight irritation. “So you decide to use the word ‘magic’ to describe it for me, when you know I don’t believe in those things?”

He nodded. “I want you to look with you heart and not with your eyes.”

“Why would I want to look? I don’t need a love.”

“Oh, ho but you do,” Rémy said. “People on earth are made to be half of something greater, stand alone and you are only half way real. Tell me, what would make you special among the millions of people who are better than you on this earth? That is where love is powerful. You are special because you would be the only one who will be loved uniquely by another. You would be the only one who can wholly complete and eternally torment his soul with just one word.”

Juliet stared at him, trying to comprehend what he had said. She was sure that nothing can overpower the heart just as long as the heart is still in tact and not in the hands of another. If there is one thing that she can freely give her heart to, it would be her art and mind. Giving in and showing weakness because of a man? No. She wouldn’t do that. People, after all, are always the same: they lie, they steal, they deceive, they degrade, they are unforgiving and they always misunderstand. She was an actress; strong and fierce, sly and cunning, seductive and deceiving, amiable and sweet, shy and silent, loud and wild. She could be anything a role demanded of her without restraint, but the hardest role she ever played was being herself. Growing up in the theatre, always pretending to be someone else and embracing a role at an early age was confusing to find out who she really was. That was why she always felt lonely: she didn’t know who she was and how to freely discover and express herself. Had she other talents besides acting and singing, it was writing, but she was never pleased with her work since her sadness always reflected in her words.

Juliet left Rémy’s quarters hours later after they had finished preparing things needed for the next show. She walked in the dim lit halls of the Paris Opera house outside the manager’s office, making her way to the theatre itself. The place would’ve been eerie on that late hour with its large golden humanoid statues, elaborate gothic designs everywhere and the scent of cold wood, but Juliet had grown to love the place even in the darkness. In times like these, she wanted to find comfort in one of the seats there, to contemplate and try to imagine how it would seem if the situation was reversed: she would be the one watching the world on the stage instead of the other way around. She paced to the stage and stood there in front, imagining the audience again.

She loved her job but there was always something missing whenever she stood there, for no one in particularly. She raised her head to stare at the dark balconies then at the crystal chandelier that hung above. She took a deep breath and sang, “Tell me all you know of me/The way they don’t see/ If I should believe in—.”

Suddenly she heard it, the music of the piano in a melancholy tune.

She stopped and listened, forgetting the entire world around her and mesmerized by the wonderful mixture of the melodies. With her heart beating unexplainably fast and her soul drawn to the music, she wandered blindly through the theatre, looking for the source. She walked up the second floor balconies in the dim candlelight of the hallways. She looked in the boxes, the ceilings, the stage from above as she felt the sweet sound echo and collide in the cold wind. Juliet felt like coming up from drowning in a sea of darkness; the music was the saving light and the breath of life for a new tomorrow. She searched high, running briskly in her dress, fearing she’ll loose the sound. When she had run for so much now, she stopped to catch her breath, she leaned against a golden statue of a lady and let the music circle her mind. She loved it; she wanted it. She sighed as she turned her gaze from the floor to her side to look at the opera house’s chandelier.

Utterly hypnotized, she sang to match the sound:

“Angel, I hear you, speak I listen

Lead me to your presence.”

She heard the fading reply:

“I am your Angel,

Come to me, Angel of Music,

I am your Angel

Come to me, Angel of Music

I am your Angel…”

In a sudden strike of reality, Juliet ran towards the direction she came, fearing to lose the already fading sound. She didn’t know where the music was leading her, but she kept on running, suddenly sure of everything. She was sure she needed to find the music. The clock strikes twelve. Dong…

She ran downwards, heart beating faster. She knew she was close to the music…Dong…

She ran...Dong…

She almost slipped at the foot of the stairs…Dong…She ran.

She reached the backstage…Dong…She ran.

She made it to the actors’ quarters…Dong…She ran.

She made it to Christine’s room. She knocked and banged the door…Dong…

She kicked several times and managed to open the door…Dong…

Her heart leaps to her throat when she saw Christine being led through a secret door…Dong…

Christine was being led by the man in all black and wearing half a white mask…Dong…

The man’s unreadable eyes and hers met…Dong…

Juliet’s heart was about to explode…Dong…The man and Christine disappeared and all the candles blew out, bathing the room in total darkness.