Adrian Crevan was extremely bored in his funeral parlor. Business had been slow recently and the few customers he did have didn't require much of him. All his customers died naturally with no stitching or anything of the sort needed. That was his favorite part of his job, but without such a messy highlight, he grew weary. All he did all day was clean his parlor, pretty up his customers, bake his bone-shaped biscuits and eat them, and pretty much anything else to alleviate his boredom. That's the life of an Undertaker, but for days like these, he sometimes wished he kept his old job, but he knew he never wanted to return to that.

Soon, the little bell rang in his shop and he walked from the back room to the front to see who entered. He giggled as he saw two officers from Scotland Yard bring in a body on a tray covered by a grey blanket. "Oh goodie, a customer!"

"This poor girl was found on the streets in Whitechapel. She was stabbed thirteen times in her chest and neck, but we have no leads to who killed her," one officer said as they set the tray down on top of a coffin.

"We don't even know who she is. We have no leads to her identity," the other said as they removed the blanket, revealing a girl in a bloody mess. She had blonde hair that flowed past her shoulders, but it was stained with the blood from her neck. She wore a puffy light green dress that looked great on her if it wasn't stained with her red blood, but it complimented the color perfectly.

"My, what a beautiful sight I see," he said, making the two officers look at him with disgust in their eyes. Only he would view such a gruesome sight remotely beautiful. They already knew the man was crazy, but were never warned how morbid he could be. He saw their faces and grinned before he offered the two men some biscuits, but they kindly declined, mainly fearing their health. "Is there anyone who wants her beautiful body to rot in the ground?"

"Actually, no. We've asked people in the area if they knew her, but no one said they did. We brought her here hoping that an announcement of her funeral would bring someone's attention."

"Then why bury such a pretty thing? Her creamy skin will be covered with dirt and no one will be there to enjoy its purity," he said with a grin.

"We . . . We're just following orders," the officer said as the two of them awkwardly left the shop, leaving Undertaker alone with the body. He looked at the girl again and smiled. Finally, a customer he can put time and effort into. He got to work, changing her bloodstained clothes to something less . . . gaudy, wiping the blood off her wounds, putting embalming cream on her body, and stitching the open wounds closed. Her put lipstick on her plump lips and put powder to cover any blemishes on her face, but to his surprise, there were none.

"Hmm," he said as he placed his finger on his chin. "Why would I put such a little thing in the ground for no reason? The only things that would care for her are the worms and maggots penetrating her skin." Still, he placed her body in a coffin in a cold room and waited for someone to claim the body. He didn't want to host a funeral if no one was going to attend. Her beauty should be broadcasted one more time before it disappeared forever in the ground. However, before he left her alone, he thought he might as well learn her name. He looked around his shop and found his Death Scythe stored in the secret room in the back. He walked to the girl and luckily for him, her soul was still with her. How is that possible? Didn't those Grim Reapers make it their mission to collect souls as soon as possible? Well, regardless, he still examined her Cinematic Record and saw the life she lived.

Her name was Mary Welch, a name Adrian found very dull, and she was a middle-class young lady. Her parents raised her to be a proper woman, hoping that she could find a rich man to marry, but her feelings were ignored. Only a few years ago, she was asked to marry a nobleman, but her heart belonged to another: a baker. She tried to refuse his proposal, but her parents forced her to marry the nobleman, who only used her as a trophy wife. Despite being married, he never touched her since he had his concubines and prostitutes for such an act. After two years of an unhappy marriage, she decided to run away to find the baker, but she learned that he married someone else as well. She was so distraught by the discovery and decided to spend the rest of her life without loving anyone. However, that life was shortened as a stranger in dark clothing sporadically stabbed her, killing her in the streets.

"Unfortunate, yes, but . . . ," he said as he finally collected the soul. "Nothing worthwhile."

Soon, night fell and Undertaker retreated to his room upstairs for the night. The next day passed. Two days. Three. Soon, it was morning of the fourth day and no one still had claimed the body. Not even a Grim Reaper attempted to claim her soul. Each day, in between customers, he had to make sure that the girl wasn't decomposing and continuously placed embalming cream on her. However, he was getting impatient. "Our fair maiden has no one to take her," he said to himself. "That's a shame. She was someone's daughter, friend, and much more, but no one is willing to see her after death? How unfortunate. She looks more beautiful now than ever." Night fell on the fourth day and he was about to retreat to his room, but before he did, he made sure to put more cream on the body. However, he realized too late that he ran out and it was too late to get some more. If she wasn't taken care of, she would slowly decompose overnight, permanently damaging the flawless skin. The idea seemed to be unbearable for him. As he pondered what to do, an idea crossed his mind. He remembered a certain little event that got him in major trouble with the Reaper Association: the Campania incident, where he and some gullible nobles created his bizarre dolls, as he called it. However, the experiment failed miserably as the dolls began killing everyone they encountered. Though, he found the creatures beautiful and flawless, but they were destroyed by the Queen's guard dog and his exceptional butler. He still held a grudge about that, but things simmered down over time. After all, Ciel still requested information out of him and he wanted laughs, knowing Sebastian was the only one who could provide the best ones.

"Surely no one will notice if she's buried in the ground," Adrian said as he looked at the corpse and giggled. "Or walking amongst the living." He picked up the body and carried it to one of the back rooms. He then laid it in a coffin as he put contraptions on her fingers, chest, head, and legs. He then walked to a mystery thing covered by a black blanket and pulled it off, revealing the machine that once brought people back to life. Luckily for him, those foolish nobles provided funds to create multiples of the device that supposedly brought the dead back to life, but he made a few tweaks to the machine since the Campania incident. Why did he ever think it was a good idea to leave humans in charge of something as precious as a soul? No wonder it got corrupted. Luckily, that's what Grim Reapers are for. With a flip of a switch, he sent electric shocks into her body, causing her to fidget and move. After a while, he turned off the machine, walked over to her, and held out his Death Scythe releasing the Cinematic Record into her body. The major flaw of the bizarre dolls were that they didn't have their souls, or at least, the Cinematic Records he provided weren't the originals, so they craved souls and the only way they knew how to obtain one was to steal it from the living. Soon, the soul was placed back into her body and he waited to see what happened. He was curious how this would turn out; he never had the chance to have both soul and body with him to experiment with. He was hoping that it would work, but even he had his doubts.

Soon, the body began to move on its own and Undertaker helped the girl climb out of the coffin. Her body seemed to have returned its color and her hair regained its lush and shine. Her lips were chapped, but he could fix that with some lip balm. Her nails were the only indicator that she wasn't really alive with its brownish-green color, but he could fix that with some nail polish. She didn't open her eyes yet, but she managed to get out and stand on her two legs . . . for a few seconds. Soon, she fell to the ground and he made sure she was all right. "Be careful where you step, dearie," he said. Though, he noticed her eyes were still closed and sighed. "You might be able to stand better if you open your eyes."

"Ngh," she muttered before she put her hands to her still closed eyes, touching them rather roughly. "E . . . Eye . . . s," she said slowly.

"Yes, dearie," he said gently. What was wrong with her? True, she is a reanimated corpse brought back to life, soul and all, but she was acting . . . weird. Though, he was relieved she wasn't trying to bite his neck off.

"D-Dea . . . rie," she repeated. Soon, she managed to open her eyes, revealing a perfect combination of blue and green. She didn't have cloudy pupils like the other dolls, much to his relief. With the others, he had to put blindfolds on their eyes to hide the clouded eyes. She looked around the place before noticing the dark-dressed man next to her. She only stared at him, almost entranced by what she was looking at, but it was more out of curiosity than attraction. "Eye . . . s."

"Very good, you've opened your eyes. Can you walk?"

"W . . . alk?" she repeated, unclear by what he meant.

He sighed as he said, "Here, let me help you." Soon, he held on to her as he helped he get up on her feet. He then steadily guided her forward, trying to make her legs move, but she wasn't figuring out what he was doing. "You've got to move your legs," he said in an annoyed tone. He was hoping she would be like herself before she died, but she acted more like an adult baby. Granted, the other dolls were the same, but in little time, they were able to walk. He did not have time to teach her everything all over again. Actually . . . that could work in his favor.

"Le . . . gs," she said as she looked down to her feet. She began to wiggle them, as if that would help her walk, and proceeded to walk forward, but if he wasn't holding her, she would have fallen again.

"It's all right, dearie. Just take it one step at a time."

"Ti . . . mme," she repeated as she proceeded to walk again, a little more successful this time, but she heavily depended on him.

"You don't have to repeat everything I say, darling," he said in a slightly annoyed tone. It was cute at first, but it was getting annoying pretty fast.

"Dar . . . lll . . . ing," she said, making him sigh in annoyance.

"All right, let's get you to bed," he said as he put her back in the coffin he just pulled her out of. "Stay here and go to sleep," he said.

"Sl . . . eep," she said as he forcefully covered her eyes with his hand, hoping that she would close her eyes. Luckily for him, it worked; she was asleep.

"Oh boy," he said as he left the room, quietly closing the door behind him. He wiped his face with his hand as he said to himself, "I honestly thought that she would be a lot more . . . mature, especially since she has her own soul, but . . . she is just like a child!" This experiment was not so much of a success as he anticipated. True, she looked more alive than the bizarre dolls, but mentally, she was no better than them. If he knew she would be like that, he probably wouldn't have proceeded with the experiment. Maybe she'll be a fast learner, but he thought that would be a stretch. She couldn't talk normally or even walk! He decided that it was enough for tonight and proceeded to his bedroom for some well-deserved sleep.

Clang. Crash. Bam. Those noises echoed throughout the parlor, waking Adrian up. He was a heavy sleeper, meaning that the noises had to be pretty loud in order to wake him up. "God damn girl," he said as he removed the blankets off him. He then proceeded to put his black robes on and left the room without putting on his shoes or hat. As he walked down the stairs, he noticed the mess his little experiment had made; broken glass, open cabinets, and spilled fluids. "Hey, what do you think you're doing?!" he asked in an angry tone. She stopped in her tracks as she saw him, looking scared at the man before her. So, she managed to walk to the front of the shop without him? Either that or she leaned on things all the way here.

She pointed at her mouth as she said, "Hun . . . gry."

He sighed as he said, "At this time of night?" She nodded. "Wait here," he said as he left her side to find the jar of biscuits he left in the back room at night. So, she could understand him now. Wait . . . is she already learning? He didn't say anything regarding hunger or food earlier, so the fact she knew what the word 'hunger' was along with answering his question meant she might possibly . . . be gaining back her memory. However, that idea was soon shattered as she asked, "N-Na . . . mme?"

"Name?"

"Y-Yes," she said.

"My name is Adrian," he said as he handed her a biscuit, which she took from his hand and quickly ate.

"A . . . dri . . . an," she repeated.

"Yes, but most of my customers call me the Undertaker," he said with a giggle. She smiled too as she took another biscuit from his hand.

"Mine?"

"Your name? Don't you know, dearie?"

She shook her head, but asked, "Dearie?"

"No, that's not your name. Your name is Ma-," he said before stopping himself. So, she doesn't know who she is, but she has picked up on essential things, like eating and walking. She remembered milestones, but not details. In other words, she was a blank slate that could be molded into anything. After all, he hated the name Mary Welch for such a beauty that she became, so why not change a few things? He smiled as he said, "Annabeth. Your name is Annabeth Phoenix."

"Ann . . . a . . . beth," she repeated and smiled. "I . . . like . . . that."

Undertaker almost wanted to congratulate her for saying her first real sentence, but had to keep his composure. He would frighten the poor girl if he didn't. "Still hungry?"

"Yes," she said more clearly. "More please." She knew manners too? Oh, she is a fast learner, much to his relief.

"Of course," he said as he fed her biscuits throughout the night.

Throughout the week, Adrian shaped Annabeth into a lovely little assistant for his funeral parlor. He only had to teach her how to prepare bodies for funerals and to clean the parlor. He didn't want to teach her anything too complicated like managing the parlor if he should ever be away since he thought it would be too hard for her. After all, she was only a week old. Despite that, she was speaking perfectly, moving elegantly, and comprehending everything a normal human would. She was a success after all, much to his relief. However, he had to teach her one thing: no one must see the scars on her body, mainly her neck. If they did, they would grow suspicious of her, like everyone was toward him. Therefore, he gave her a purple scarf to hide them in case she had to work in the front shop and told her to constantly wear it. However, to his surprise, he was surprised how well she was taking the fact that she is a reanimated human and the scars were the only signs of it.

One day, however, they heard the bell rang in the front of his shop, followed by a young voice saying, "Undertaker, are you here?"

"Oh, what a surprise. If it isn't the young lord and master butler," he greeted as Ciel and Sebastian entered the shop. "What may I have the pleasure of assisting you with today?"

"We are hoping you might give us information on a missing person. Does the name Mary Welch ring a bell?" Ciel asked. Adrian's eyes widened at the name, but it couldn't be seen through his bangs. However, before he could answer, Annabeth walked into the front with a tray of biscuits in her hand and proceeded to put them in a jar as if the duo weren't there. Adrian was almost scared that she showed herself, especially in front of the two people who had traumatizing experiences with the bizarre dolls, but was relieved to see that they didn't seem to make that connection, especially since she was wearing her scarf. Ciel chuckled as he said, "I didn't realize you were the type to hire pretty little things."

"Why, my lord, do you think so badly of me? I'm an old man and once in a while, I need extra hands to help me. Therefore, I hired this fair maiden to help me around the shop. Young lord, master butler, I would like to introduce you to Ms. Annabeth Phoenix," he said as he pulled her close to him, almost like a man would when introducing his lover.

"Nice to meet you," she said sweetly.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," Sebastian said with a bow.

"Indeed, but we didn't come here to make acquaintances. You haven't answered me, Undertaker, does the name Mary Welch sound familiar to you," Ciel asked again.

"You know my price, my lord," he said with a wicked grin.

"We don't have time for this," Ciel said rather angrily.

"Then I won't give you your answer. It's only a laugh, my lord; it's not that hard to pay."

"Perhaps we should inform our Reaper associates of your whereabouts," Ciel said with a cocky tone. "I'm sure they would be very happy to speak with you after the Campania incident."

Undertaker scoffed as he said, "You don't play fair anymore, my lord. How long are you going to use that blackmail?"

"As long as it takes."

"Very well, then. No, the name itself doesn't sound familiar, but I do remember a little lady being carried into my shop a few days ago. Pretty little thing looked well in red," he said with a grin.

"Was it her?"

"I don't know for sure. No one ever claimed her body, so I buried her in a pretty field covered in daffodils," he said with a giggle. "If I may, my lord, would you kindly explain more about her?"

"Well, Ms. Mary Welch wasn't born into nobility, but was married to it instead. However, about two years ago, she ran away from the noble life and we have a lead saying she could have possibly be living in this area because of a certain old flame," Sebastian explained, but suddenly got a strong whiff in the air. Something wasn't right here.

"Oh, the dearie couldn't handle being the wife of a nobleman? What a shame."

"Her husband, Lord Kelvin Montague, has asked the Phantomhives for help in finding his wife since the Montagues and Phantomhives have been close friends for many generations."

"Do you have any idea to what she looked like? If the girl really did run away, then I'm sure she would have changed her name as well," Undertaker stated.

"I suppose you're right, but we have no recent photograph of her. All we have is a portrait from her wedding day," Ciel said as he pulled it out of a messenger bag and handed it to him. Adrian quickly examined the photo and was relieved to see that the woman in the picture only slightly resembled his dear Annabeth, even though they were the exact same person. This woman had brunette hair, probably because she dyed her hair for her husband, and although the eyes were similar, the expression wasn't. The woman in the portrait was displaying a fake smile while Annabeth always had a genuine cheery expression on her face, which made him giggle every time he saw it.

"Hmm, I don't believe I have encountered this woman or had her in my shop," he said as he tried to hand back the portrait, but was stopped.

"Perhaps Ms. Phoenix knows," Sebastian asked with a slight grin.

Adrian was uncomfortable with the suggestion, but handed the portrait to her anyway. "Do you recognize this woman?" he asked.

She looked at it closely. At first, she seemed to know who it was, but shook her head. "Nope, haven't seen her."

"Well then, at least we know she isn't dead. Thank you, Undertaker," Ciel said as he headed out the shop. "Let's go, Sebastian."

"Certainly," he responded as he followed his young master outside the shop, but not before glaring at Annabeth. Something wasn't right.

In the carriage, Ciel rode with Sebastian, but he had a contemplating look on his face. What was he thinking? He had an idea and asked, "Do you think he is lying."

"He may have never encountered Mary Welch, but Annabeth Phoenix is very suspicious to me," Sebastian said.

"Do you think that she is Mary Welch in disguise and Undertaker doesn't know it?"

"Oh, he would know if a runaway was working for him. He has ways of knowing. . . . ,"

"What are you hinting at," Ciel asked impatiently. He didn't like being left in the dark.

"That parlor . . . had a strong scent of death."

"Well, of course! It's a funeral parlor and he is a Grim Reaper."

"If I may continue, my lord, I was saying that it didn't just smell of death; it reeked of it."

"Maybe he has a body prepared for an upcoming funeral."

"Possibly, or he has one walking around."

Ciel's eye widened as he said, "You're not saying that . . . ,"

"Yes, but unlike the ones we encountered on that cruise liner, this one seems to be a successful reanimated corpse."