Prologue
I suppose it started with the bell ringing, summoning me to his study. I was preparing dinner at the time and really didn't want to resort to having the chef, Baldroy, continue it without my supervision. But I knew I had to go. He was my former master, but he was all I had left of him, and that made me go; that and the fact I really had no other choice. He was still my master.
"Still so much to do and he calls me now?" I wondered aloud to myself.
I slipped on my tailcoat as I made my way to the study.
I nearly slapped myself in the face at the request I was given.
"I'm a bit hungry. I'd like something sweet to eat."
Here sat a boy, no older than twelve years old and practically the spitting image of his father. The only thing: Vincent Phantomhive didn't wear an eye patch over his right eye. Then again, I hadn't exactly entered into a contract with the late Earl Phantomhive. I was just his butler . . . and his lover.
I merely looked this boy in the eye and straightened my spine.
"You shouldn't eat now, Master. You don't want to spoil your appetite for dinner with your guest this evening."
"I don't care about that. Make me a parfait."
"I'm sorry, sir."
A noise of annoyance left his mouth, "Fine then. About the portrait in the hallway . . ."
"Yes?"
"Take it down."
I couldn't stop myself from gasping slightly with shock. Call me soft, but I was very fond of that portrait. It was one of very few we still had left of Vincent and Rachael, and although I had loved Vincent Phantomhive so dearly, I'd also learned to accept the woman he had chosen to marry.
I hope your soul is worth it, Ciel.
I could only bow and try to make myself sound pleased, even though I was breaking apart inside.
"Consider it done, my lord."