My first Kuroshitsuji fanfic! o_o

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Garden Of Lies

Chapter 1

Fertilizer


"Roses are red, violets are blue..."

Ciel rolled his eyes at the cliché poem introduction. He wondered what exactly that raven of a butler is trying to achieve by reciting a platitude like that. There's nothing to learn from something he already knows. He allowed his sapphire eyes to stray towards the window, away from the lesson. In the garden outside, there weren't any red roses or blue violets. The roses were a snowy white and the violets a gentle violet, just as it was named for, with a soft touch of a darker purple.

Sebastian narrowed his eyes at the drifting student. His gaze soon traveled to a small, dainty hand that laid vulnerable on an oak desk. Its grip on the fountain pen was loose, accurately portraying Ciel's loose comprehension in poetry. Sebastian just had to smack that pretty little hand with his ruler.

The boy let out a cry as he was broken out of his optimistic daydreams. He rubbed the red stinging mark on his hand and glared at it, then at the butler who caused it. In turn, Sebastian chuckled, amused by the Phantomhive boy. Ciel's expression transitioned into a scowl. "Sitting ducks get shot, bocchan. I'm certain Marchioness Midford has said this before," warned Sebastian, his lips curled up in a smirk. There is no doubt that Phantomhive butler Sebastian is a sadist.

Both the master and servant took a pause as they listened to the door open. The door was only opened a sliver, but that was more than enough for the man. He was curious of the sounds he heard, and decided that he'd take a small peek inside. Ciel granted him a sigh. "Yes, Father?"

Vincent Phantomhive laughed nervously, then fully entered the room. He's been caught once again. "Just assuring myself that you're learning the proper subjects." Vincent gave an accusing glare towards the Phantomhive butler. Sebastian only smiled innocently in response.

"Proper subjects, indeed, my lord. Your son is quite the feisty one, though," Sebastian remarked. Vincent gave a long hum in contemplation. True, his son was stubborn in enduring lessons. If Ciel didn't deem it necessary, then he dismissed it immediately. The Phantomhive head truly wondered where, when, and how his son adopted that trait. Not to mention who he got it from.

Actually, the last question already has its own answer.

"Well, needless to say, having my son learn the proper subjects is your job as his tutor." Vincent turned on his heel, spinning exactly 180 degrees until he was facing the door. He took a few steps, then paused at the doorway. His hand was wrapped around the perfectly polished doorknob. "After all, a Phantomhive servant who couldn't do this much isn't worth his salt." With that, Vincent left the room on a high note.

Sebastian let out a heavy sigh. So this is what it feels to be a single parent, he deadpanned. Nevertheless, he accepted the challenge and continued the study session. "Roses are red, violets are blue..." Sebastian attempted again.

Ciel groaned in annoyance.


Lady of the Phantomhive family, Rachel Phantomhive, strolled throughout the halls of the manor. She was wearing an exquisite long-sleeved teal dress with light orange frills. It wrapped at her waistline perfectly, complimenting her figure. Her heels clicked against the marble floor with every step she took. The clicking of her heels suddenly ceased when she was swiftly pulled into a closet.

Whoever attacked her had a firm, but gentle hold around her. After analyzing the situation, she recognized the hold around her and immediately pushed her captor away. "Good Lord! What's wrong with you, Vincent? Ambushing me in the middle of the hallway like that!"

The not-so-mysterious person started laughing nervously. Busted again, it seems. "Forgive me, Rachel, but I wanted to ask you something. I was wondering if–"

"–Yes, I know. I was on my way to inform you, until you decided to shorten my lifespan by a good thirty years." Rachel loved surprises, but she wasn't too fond of heart attacks.

Vincent started to laugh nervously again. "So–"

"No."

"No?"

"Yes. Nothing has arrived at all."

"I see..."

"I can't. I can't breathe, either. For God's sake, you know I'm claustrophobic. All thanks to last year's anniversary..." Rachel grumbled. Vincent let them out of the cramped room upon his wife's request. He was surprised that she was still grumbling about that incident. He thought it was a romantic adventure. And you can't have a proper adventure without risks.

"You've been extremely anxious over that recently, dear," Rachel commented. Vincent nodded, very aware of this fact. The couple walked together down the halls, to Rachel's original destination: Vincent's office. There was now two pairs of clicks and clacks resonating throughout the halls. "I do realize that Ciel's birthday is arriving quickly, but I hear no ticking clocks or burning bombs. We have time," she assured her husband.

Vincent shook his head at this. "No, we don't. I don't think it's a coincidence that they decided to attack the day of his birthday. Same with that crow..." he replied. Rachel gave him a comforting smile. She knew he was right, but fretting over it isn't going to do any good. The only way to deal with this is calmly, cunningly, and slowly. Stress will only cloud their judgment.


It was on Ciel's 10th birthday. The Phantomhive manor had capitulated to raging embers. Vincent coughed, frantically running and searching the house for his family. He always knew that the day would come when they would come after him to take his life, but he never thought it'd be on his precious son's birthday. It was supposed to be an innocent, beautiful day. "They just had to take that away from us, huh?" he muttered to himself.

"Ciel! Rachel!" he shouted out. He coughed even more. His eyes kept watering, blurring his sight. Air. He needed fresh air. That was the least of his worries, though. He just wanted his dear wife and son to be safe and sound, even if it meant he had to have a scorching death. Maybe he will.

Amidst the fire and smoke, a shadowy silhouette stood. A pile of corpses were at the figure's stiletto boots. Vincent squinted at the enigmatic stranger. Are those... black feathers? Vincent asked himself. He began coughing more. It won't be too long until he'd finally black out, but he still clung desperately to consciousness. A dark laughter rang throughout the room. "You seem to be in a bit of trouble. I can fix that, if we make a deal."

Vincent chuckled, amused by the idea of making a deal with the devil. "Put out this fire, and then we'll talk."

The demon snapped his fingers. Much to Vincent's amazement, the fire instantly sizzled out and revealed the dull remains of the Phantomhive manor. What was once were sumptuous walls were reduced to ashes and crumbling flakes. The Phantomhive head rushed to a broken window, and inhaled a deep breath of the crisp night air.

Rachel, who was in the dining room, lowered her gun. Her pink dress was tattered and burnt in various places. Three dead bodies were behind her, shot dead by a single bullet to the head. Her eyes widened, sparkling with astonishment. She soon came to her senses after the initial shock wore off. "Ciel... Ciel!"

Vincent scanned each and every detail of the remains of his mansion, as if expecting the illusion to disappear and flames to erupt once more. When he finally acknowledged the fact that he wasn't in some peculiar dream, he let out a long whistle. "Huh... Amazing. Sorry, but I can't make any deals without consulting my wife first."

Right on cue, Rachel rushed into the room. Vincent blinked, then turned to the demon. "You're good," he complimented.

Rachel's wide sapphire eyes frantically searched the room. She gasped when she caught sight of a corner completely encased in darkness, black feathers floating about. "Vincent...?" After seeing the relaxed, carefree look on Vincent's face, she deemed it unnecessary for her to worry about the demon. He already had it under control.

"Let's make a contract," proposed the demon. Rachel scrutinized the demon, wondering if it had any openings or weaknesses. It seemed entirely implausible, but it was something worth thinking about. Though, there's no way that Vincent would even think about—

"What are the terms?" the Phantomhive head inquired. Rachel took out a few bullets hidden in her corset and reloaded her gun. I'll shoot you right now, idiot.

"Where's Ciel?" Rachel demanded, overshadowing her husband's question.

"That's a good question," the demon answered.

Rachel bit her lip, keeping her eyes trained on the demon. She knew exactly where this was leading. Make a deal with the devil or else they'll never see Ciel again. The classic. But the devil's downfall was his pride. They might be able to trick him.

Vincent didn't bother with tricks, though. He only rewarded the demon one thing: the position of Phantomhive butler. "We don't need the employment of a demon, but a butler would be nice," Vincent declared. He beckoned his wife, dashing to rescue their darling son.

We don't need him.

We can save him with our own power.

We don't need his help.

Nevertheless, the job was more than enough for the demon, now known as Sebastian. There was no contract, but even the thinnest of bonds was enough to drag his victims down.

And so, their game of chess was nicknamed Temptation.


Ciel didn't quite understand the meaning of an overused opening about bloody roses and sad violets, but...

He abruptly halted the thought. Oh. Is that what Sebastian was rambling on about? Perhaps that will come in handy. The Phantomhive heir had too much disdain placed in Sebastian to acknowledge that he was right. Though, if it were taken seriously, nobody would ever use such an idiotic code like that.

"The language of flowers is often referenced in poems, books, and secret messages," prompted the butler. Ciel straightened himself and raised an eyebrow of curiosity. His arm was no longer supporting his head. He recalled hearing his parents argue over the arrangement of flowers. They were discussing matters right in front of him! What a fool he's been, taking it for granted. It's rather difficult to detect things like this when his father acts odd to the point where he is odd.

To redeem himself, he decided that he'd compensate by obtaining more information. "Where are they right now?" Ciel asked. He wasn't completely naive. He's always known that his parents had affairs that they specifically excluded him from. He just didn't know what they were, why they hid it from him, and when they communicated. He could stick to them like glue for the entire day, and still not have the slightest clue of the little situations they always solved by the next morning.

His parents pull thin, invisible strings without his knowing. It could be concealed by the simple action of waving hello or from the tiniest blind spot. Even if it's only by a spider's thread, Ciel will get to the bottom of this.

As the 13th successor of the Phantomhive earldom, this was his duty. He'd be shaming his bloodline if he didn't do so.

Sebastian's eyes sparkled at his determination, like a glass of red wine under the fullest of moons. "Shall I put my espionage skills to use, bocchan?" he suggested sweetly.

Ciel shook his head. "I can win with my own power," he declared.

The Phantomhive butler smirked at his young master. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, mused the butler. "You should know, though..."

"I am one hell of a butler."


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