I own nothing besides the plot.
Some of you may recall the strange affair of the Phantom of the Opera, a mystery never fully explained.
The Phantom stared at the now decaying opera house. It was ruined. Everything in his life had fallen to ruin. The opera house was in shambles, Madam Gire had moved far away, and Christine was dead. There was nothing for him now. Snow was falling on the streets of Paris like frozen teardrops as he walked slowly down the alleyways. He finally made it to a ladder, which lead to the roof of the building. As he climbed he thought about everything that had happened. He reached the top and climbed onto the roof, feeling the brisk chill of the winter air as he stared at the ground below him. All he wanted was a chance, the ability to turn the Opera Populare into a thriving showcase of the work he could create. This was the wish on his mind as he fell.