The darkness shielded his expression completely, and hid from view the way he responded to the question -- and the memories the question brought to the fore. Erik took a breath. He didn't have to think about the chordal progression; the steps were instinctual at this point.
Years ago, when the call went out for architects to construct the Académie d'Opéra, Erik couldn't bear not to be involved. Of course, it was out of the question for him to be listed as the primary architect. But good old Charles Garnier was easily swayed by Erik's persuasive powers -- and their partnership had been solidified early.
"When I last came to Paris," Erik said, his voice taking on a tone that was rarely heard, "I had reason to stay outside the public eye. I had enemies in the court at Persia. The construction of the Opera House was an opportunity I couldn't ignore."
He paused again, and this time the length was so long that it seemed he might not speak again. And then: "I had meant it to be a mausoleum -- my own. I had grown quite tired of humanity as a whole. Quite tired, dear doctor."