After surveying the night before, and removing the raccoon, Paul and his men were back bright and early to start the construction. They started in the auditorium, working to fix the ceiling so the chandelier could be rehung once it was fixed.

You worked there too, rehanging the crystals on the chandelier that had since fallen off. This was partially because it was the task you'd intended to do next, but also you were nervous at the men being so high up. You worried one of them would fall, or say, would be pushed. Once you finished hanging all of the crystals and mending the ones that were broken, you began repairing the candle-lights. Your job on the chandelier was decent, but you'd ask the construction crew to make any final touches they thought it needed before it was rehung.

"You don't do a lot around here, do you?"

You looked up to find one of Paul's men staring at you, a long paint roller strung over his shoulder. You could tell by his tone that he'd meant to say something more along the lines of, "ugh typical woman behavior."

"Excuse me?"

"You've been working on that chandelier for hours."

"You're aware it was shattered, right?" You went back to cleaning the last of the candle-light casings on the chandelier. You could still feel his eyes judging you.

"I coulda had it done in an hour."

"I somehow doubt that. You've seen the entrance hall and the grand foyer, the grand staircase and the restaurant and the backstage. All of them are finished and near perfect too. I did that all by myself, without any of you, so if you'll excuse me I'd like to continue my work uninterrupted."

He tsked at you but finally left you alone. While half of the men worked on the ceiling the other half worked on fixing the supports for the stage and replacing any planks which were burnt. You realized while they were working that that was in fact most of the stage. After they had finished you brought out the varnish you'd purchased to reseal the wood. The man from earlier watched you while you worked, making you uncomfortable. You could tell he very much did not like you.

Finally having enough, you left the auditorium as soon as you were finished with the stage and decided to work on the offices you hadn't yet gotten to cleaning. There were four total, two on each side of the staircase. You assumed they would be used by the owner of the Opera Populaire and any other influential members of the Opera's staff once the theater was up and running.

The first office looked like it had been ransacked for any valuables, and you would later discover they all looked the same way. For the most part, your cleaning just consisted of removing any garbage or any useless items, dusting, and tidying what remained. Each office had a matching desk and chair, but the two offices to the right of the staircase were significantly fancier than the others and also contained bookshelves and sitting chairs. They must have belonged to the two previous owners of the Opera Populaire. You'd heard they originally made their trade in the junk business, and you wondered how they'd been successful enough to afford buying the entire opera house and company.

As you finished the last office by tidying the desk drawers, you found four letters inside identical envelopes, each which were stamped with a wax seal shaped like a skull. You felt as if the room went cold. These were undoubtedly letters from the Phantom, and you warred with yourself on the decision to open them. Would he be upset that you'd found them? In the end the half of you that wanted to see what was inside won, and you opened the letters.

The first letter was a reminder to the owners that the Phantom's salary had not been paid, although it seemed more of a threat than a friendly reminder. You wondered how much he was supposed to get. The second letter complimented Christine's singing at a gala they'd attended, but judged the dancing of the cast. In the third letter, Carlotta—who you assumed was a singer—was replaced with Christine and was threatened to behave. The last letter was to the Vicomte de Chagny, telling him not to come looking for Christine. In it the Phantom referred to himself as the Angel of Music. Although the letters were threatening, you could see that they were laced with the Phantom's love for Christine, and he had loved her deeply. But in the end she had chosen Raoul and left the Phantom alone. You couldn't blame Christine knowing the heart works in mysterious ways, but you felt bad for the Phantom.

You thought it better that no one find the letters with you, so you tucked them into the bottom of the drawer and left. Perhaps you could move them later to a safer location or discreetly dispose of them.

~

Over the next few days you finished a few more coats of varnish on the stage and started helping the construction crew reupholster the many charred theater seats once they finally hoisted the chandelier back into its place. It looked beautiful against the freshly painted ceiling and added so much light to the auditorium. You could finally see everything without having to squint.

You hadn't seen the Phantom since the night he'd denied your wish to see his face, but you wished you had. You would have preferred his company much more than the construction crew. While Paul and a few of the men he was closer with were usually kind to you, the others who all seemed to follow the man you now knew as Henri, were not. It started to seem as if they were purposefully causing problems for you and watching you to make you uncomfortable. And knowing what you had to hide didn't make things any easier.

You were much slower at fixing the seats than they were, your hands unfamiliar with the tools and methods. Despite this they mocked you anyways when Paul wasn't looking or wasn't around. After only a couple of finished seats, you had to leave for a few moments of peace to yourself. During those moments you found yourself wishing that the Phantom would visit you while you were alone, but he never did.

You didn't leave him any notes or plates of food anymore, fearing that you'd have too much to explain if the Phantom missed it and the construction crew found it, but you wished you could have. You liked sharing with him, and part of you wished he liked it too.

Since it was Friday, you walked to the front of the opera house in the early afternoon, knowing Monsieur Martin wouldn't step more than five feet inside with the door closed. On your walk to the front you noticed that the construction crew had left muddy footprints all over the grand foyer and entrance hall again. Monsieur Martin arrived about twenty minutes after you started mopping the dirty floor.

"Bonjour Y/N, the construction crew arrived this week, yes?"

"Yes, they arrived on Monday," you said, leaving out the part about them being late. You didn't want to make your relationship with them worse than it already was.

"How is the progress coming along?"

"It's going well. I'll admit we're definitely getting a lot more done with so many people. We should be able to finish the auditorium by the end of next week."

"That's great to hear. And as for the furnaces, I have a small group coming starting next week to get the furnaces and steam systems running. They'll be there every day to maintain them and I'll have them handle the lighting too so you don't have to worry about doing it all yourself anymore."

"Wow, thank you Monsieur Martin. That sounds really great."

"I'm hoping to at least open the Opera to start rehearsals within a month and a half. Do you think that's a reasonable deadline?"

"Yes, I think that's reasonable."

"Good, good. Would you mind sending the construction crew out. I want to check in with them about the deadline too."

"Okay, I'll send them right out."

Bidding Monsieur Martin well, you walked to the auditorium where they were still working on fixing the seating. You wondering if a few of the chairs would need to be replaced entirely.

"Monsieur Martin is here and he wants to speak with you all," you told Paul. He collected his men and left.

In the meantime you continued cleaning the floor, sometimes needing to get on your hands and knees to scrub the boot prints off. Just as you were almost finished the construction crew returned bringing in a swath of new shoe prints.

"Could you please wipe your feet like I've asked you all to," you asked, exasperated. "I put a mat out there for you, and since then this is the third time you've done it."

"You're not the boss of us," Henri sneered as if he were a five year old being told to behave by someone other than his mother or father.

Before you could reply that Monsieur Martin had in fact put you in charge, Henri knocked over the entire bucket of dirty water you had sitting beside you. Not only did it soak the floor, but it soaked your dress too.

"Why was that necessary?" You asked, growing angry. "Why do you treat me so terribly?"

Most of the other men had ignored Henry and returned to the auditorium. Paul among them, did not see what Henri did or what he said to you after. You stood from the floor and started ringing out the bottom of your dress to the best of your ability. You'd probably have to change.

"I know who you are, L/N. Your father ruined my fathers life, and so now I'll ruin yours. It's refreshing to see someone from a family like yours end up in the gutter. I wouldn't be surprised if you'd have to be a whore to make a living around here."

You didn't recognize him at all and so you couldn't recall anything as to how your father ruined his fathers life. I mean yes your father worked at the bank, but it wasn't like he owned the bank. You hadn't grown up that wealthy, and most of your family's money came from your mother's side.

"I'm sorry that my presence is so threatening to you, but I think you'd be better off if you'd just leave me alone."

"You think you're so important, huh? Well you're not. You're replaceable in a way we aren't. It would be a shame if you were fired."

You'd been about to respond to Henri's taunting when Paul appeared at one of the doors to the auditorium, telling Henri and the few who stayed behind with him to hurry up. He didn't waste any more words on you and left.

You quickly finished up the floor, rushing a bit. Your wet dress was making you cold. Oh, how you wished you could take a warm bath right now. Before you retreated to the safety and silence of your room, you stopped by the stage to collect your cleaning supplies. Meanwhile you tried very hard not to make eye contact with Henri.

Suddenly a flicker of white caught your eye and you turned to find a piece of paper floating down to the stage, directly next to where you were standing. Except, it wasn't just a piece of paper, it was an envelope with a skull wax seal. You froze and hesitated to pick it up. When you looked upward to the catwalks and rafters you did not see him.

Finally, you bent down to retrieve the envelope. It hadn't been in your hand 10 seconds when one of Henri's goons snatched it away. They began tossing it about like a bunch of kids playing keep-away.

"What's this?" Henri laughed, snatching it from one of the guys who had it and ripping open. "A love letter?"

As Henri's eyes scanned the letter you watched his face grow pale. Everyone crowded around him trying to read the letter while he still gripped it in his hands. Some looked equally as nervous as Henri, while others appeared not to care.

"You think this is funny?" He asked, suddenly angry. "You wrote this didn't you?"

"No, I swear I didn't. I don't even know what it says. Let me see."

"I don't believe you," he sneered.

"Just let me see it already!" You yelled, growing nervous of its contents based on what you'd seen in the Phantom's old letters.

Dear Gentlemen,

Just a quick reminder –
My opera house is not
your playground
Respect is what you'll give
If you want to live
O.G.