Fred Abberline, officer of Scotland Yard, was frustrated.
He couldn't understand how such a thing could have been 'just an accident'. The mysterious deaths of the boys, plus that grisly train accident in London…he just had that uncomfortable inkling that the two, entirely different cases were connected, somehow. He didn't know how, exactly …call it a detective's hunch, but he just felt that something was wrong.
But no one was listening to him. His fellow officers called him a delusional, pubescent old nut when he told them his theories. They told him that he shouldn't be making connections between two cases that are entirely unrelated—or so they said. Sir Randall even considered his assumptions as entirely stupid, dismissing him and mortifyingly calling him a belligerent fool in front of all of his comrades. How utterly humiliating!
Scotland Yard was still trying to solve the case about the mysterious deaths of the boys, but all they had for the moment was seemingly insignificant information—that they were all sons of aristocrats, ages twelve to seventeen, had gone to a private boarding school, whose autopsies declared that they died of a natural cause. Coincidence? No, the victims were far too many for it to be just a coincidence. In his line of work, crime didn't simply just spell coincidence.
And then there was the accident in London. The train accident had been an 'accident' enough—the brakes had failed, and the train fell, and there were the casualties, the things one would expect from such an unfortunate tragedy. Thankfully, though, despite the accident having been a bloodbath, there was only one person who died and one person very critically injured: the Duke of Hollingsworth and the Marquis of Midford, respectively.
But there was something about it that just didn't seem so 'accidental'. The duke's wife, the Duchess Hollingsworth, said that he had been on his way to report 'something' to the Queen—but just before he could do so, he died. Interestingly, the duke had a son, and his name is Nathaniel Hollingsworth; and he had just returned home after two semesters from the school called L'éveil de Castor. The doctors are now saying that Nathaniel's body was on a critical stage and he would die soon, just like all the other boys.
It couldn't be just a coincidence. Earlier in the month, Melville, Marquis Maxwell, had a son from the L'éveil as well, and, just before he could go report to the Queen about that same 'something', the Marquis had already died from an 'accident'.
The involvement of Marquis Midford was because, as the Leader of the British Knights, he had been sent by the Queen to protect the Duke of Hollingsworth from any sort of accident, as per Her Majesty's orders. The Queen had feared the Duke's accident, even beforehand. Abberline had to be impressed of Her Majesty's premonitions which had just proved to be entirely accurate.
It was as if…as if someone was trying to keep a secret quiet by eliminating Marquis Maxwell and Duke Hollingsworth. Both nobles surely knew something about this case; they were just killed in 'accidents' before they could reveal the secret.
But, what secret? What?
What?
Fred Abberline was on the verge of despair, banging his head onto the table for the past few days now—and he had a feeling he would continue doing so for several more.
II. His Master, Elusive
The Earl of Phantomhive impassively stood in front of the window, his back turned to them, hands clasped together so tightly behind him with a strength that defied what such a small body could possibly have.
Composure.
Sebastian, on the other hand, could smell the very faint scent of his master's guilt wafting through the air. Though it disgusted him to the core that his young master was even capable of feeling such a thing, it also quite…amused him. To think that his cruel, oh, so cruel young master was even capable of feeling guilt in the first place, just right after making his beloved Lady Elizabeth cry….
The butler couldn't help but put a fisted hand over his mouth to cover a fascinated smirk as he watched his master quietly stare out the window into the pouring rain, that faint whiff of guilt still present in the air. Ah, well. Perhaps his bratty young lord was not such a lordly brat after all.
Ciel, however, did not find this situation as amusing as Sebastian thought it was. He was forcing himself to remain calm, to continue hiding behind his cold mask for a little while longer, to keep his composure rigidly intact. He stared out in the rain, his unreadable gaze looking intently into the distance, all the while repeatedly telling himself that sending Elizabeth away was the necessary thing to do. He had to do it. He had to, even if it consequently had to make her cry.
Keeping this mantra to console himself, he closed his eye, drew in a silent breath to calm himself down, and let it out in a soothing exhale.
Yes. Composure.
"Now then," he said, turning around to face his visitor once more. The look on his face was as apathetic as ever, acting as if nothing had happened at all. "I believe I've just asked you to—"
"Yep," Charles Grey cut off, smirking at him. "Behavioural problems."
That microscopic twitch in Ciel's forehead indicated his annoyance. "Please. Enough jesting. I'd really find it more convenient if we simply continue with our—"
"Ah, my lord, why so stiff?" mocked Grey. "You heartless earl, you. You just broke your fiancée's heart! Isn't the remorseful prince charming going to run after his sobbing young lady? 'Ah, milady, forgive me for stupid, idiotic faults!'"
"No."
"Oh, don't sound so very terribly nervous. I'll cheer for you!"
A vein throbbed in his forehead. How the annoying git interpreted Ciel's monosyllabic answer as 'terribly nervous' was beyond him.
"We've no time for such trivialities, Lord Grey. If you would please, I'd very much like to see progress in our discussion."
Grey sighed and rolled his eyes. "Well, alright. I guess every lady would be frustrated in you. You're such a boring sod."
"Pardon?"
"Oh, nothing, earl dearest," he replied, smiling ever so sunnily. "I'm actually glad that you did shoo the loudmouth away—wouldn't be of any use to our discussion. Well, anyway. Let's get on to the case."
Ciel steepled his fingers and fired the bullet at once. "Young boys are proclaimed dead ten to fourteen days after having returned from L'éveil de Castor."
That carefree look tightened as graveness fell onto Grey. He leaned forward, that serene atmosphere suddenly gone.
"Yes. There are fourteen victims. So far. Weirdly, though, the results of the autopsies say that their deaths have been…natural enough, so it's really hard to conclude that someone is behind this. There were no traces of poisoning and suchlike. They simply died with a natural cause.
"But because it is just as unnatural that the boys all had to be youths, that they all belonged to the higher classes of society, that they had to come from the same academy, it couldn't be just some coincidence that they died from a 'natural cause'. Since all the victims have no other distinct similarity except from having come from the same private boarding school, then at least we have one lead: L'éveil de Castor, the expensive academy for the rich kids. Sounds suspicious enough, I'd say."
Ciel walked over to his seat and settled in from across his guest. Sebastian laid down a plate of chocolate and strawberry biscuits in front of him and poured him another cup of tea, but they were ignored by Ciel whose mind was already somewhere else.
"L'éveil de Castor," he murmured, slowly, as if testing how the sophisticated syllables could roll off his tongue. "'Awakening Castor'. What a peculiar name for an academy."
"It had an interesting enough history," agreed Grey. "The brother of the architect who designed it just died, so the living brother decided that he would honour his dead twin by naming it after Castor, one of the twins of Gemini. Ugh. What a sentimental dweeb."
Sebastian risked a curious peek to observe the reaction of his young master. Ciel was listening as intently as ever, letting no emotion whatsoever flash across the severity of his serious pretence as he processed the information.
"It was first built to be an asylum," Grey continued. "It is located at the top of a French Alps mountain; I think its name was Point Blanc. Then the asylum was bought by some chummy bloke named Ros…Roscoe? Yes, Sir Maverick Roscoe, and then later he converted it into an academy intended for young boys aged twelve to seventeen with…"
A smirk.
"…behavioural problems. Its goal was to turn rich, spoiled brats into disciplined youths. Parents who are disappointed with their child's insolent behaviour may choose to send them to L'éveil de Castor where they are trained to become true gentlemen. They are usually sons of rich aristocrats—in fact, even some boys of royal blood were sent there for a semester or two. The L'éveil had been doing this job excellently—at least according to the parents—for three hundred years already. It is unusual that such a trusted school would suddenly turn out to be the perpetrator."
"So," said Ciel. "She wants me to investigate a suspicious academy built as a training ground to turn unpleasant boys into gentlemen."
"Precisely." Grey gave Ciel a knowing wink. "The Queen herself said that you should go try attending L'éveil de Castor yourself."
There was some silence. The earl couldn't help but be displeased with the news. Not this again. He'd just been over the case of Derrick Arden in Weston College and wasn't very willing to go through the tedious class and traditions of orthodox schooling yet again.
"Well," Ciel said, finally. "How…fetching."
He picked up a biscuit, bit into it, and thought for a while.
"But, surely, Lord Grey," he began once more, "even I cannot be capable of infiltrating the school personally. I am born as Ciel, Earl of Phantomhive. Our generation is infamous for policing England's underworld, not as petty children with behavioural problems. Certainly, the academy wouldn't be willing to take in someone like me."
Grey and Sebastian both could have snorted and/or rolled on the floor in hysterical laughter at that, hadn't they been gentlemen themselves.
Annoyed by the subtle reactions on their faces, Ciel crossed his arms over his chest and continued talking, ignoring them as much as possible. "And if the L'éveil is as strict as you say they are, they would be particularly suspicious if a Phantomhive had suddenly enrolled. In conclusion, then," he huffed, "I would not qualify to become a student in L'éveil de Castor. Perhaps a spy of some sort would suit better—"
"Well, the Queen is two steps ahead of you," interrupted Grey, still trying not to chuckle. "She thought you might say that your identity would be a problem. So, for the first time ever, she decided she would help you on this case."
"Her Majesty?" That made him blink in disbelief. He knew that her letter said she would help, but he never actually expected it to be true. "She would help?"
"Didn't I just say? She ordered me to create an identity for you that would be easily accepted by the L'éveil." He smirked, yet again, but this time, there was something different mixed in with it. It was as if he had a secret…a dirty secret he was soon going to reveal. He paused for a dramatic effect, holding the tension in the heavy atmosphere for a while longer.
Then he smiled, as angelically as ever.
"You would be enrolling as the son of the Viscount of Druitt."
A biscuit dropped. The shocked air drew a deadly silent blank for precisely three point five seconds. Then—
"I beg your pardon?!"
The smile on Grey's face grew ever wider. Ah, how he enjoyed making people's lives miserable. 'Twas his specialty. "You're very welcome."
"But—but—" For some reason, the earl's face had started to blush with the intensity of a thousand shades of red combined. "The Viscount of Druitt! I cannot…I can't possibly…"
"Refusing the Queen's order now, are we?"
"No! Couldn't you change my identity to someone else? Was it really necessary that I had to be put in the disguise as the son of that—that—"
"That what, young master?" prodded Sebastian, amusement in his voice.
"That lecherous oaf!" finished an outrageous Ciel. He turned to Grey. "Well, can't we?"
"No. I've already sent the documents over to the L'éveil to enrol you as Ciel Chambers, son of Aleistor, Viscount of Druitt. The academy would be picking you up after a fortnight from now." He grinned. Grey knew that forcing the young lord to get involved with the randy viscount would indeed be worthy of show. "It seems we have everything already settled. We can't just change it."
"But—but…the Viscount ofDruitt is—"
"Now, now, Lord Phantomhive," Grey drawled mockingly, putting in extra emphasis in the little boy's heavy title. "Isn't that such a rude behaviour? What is so wrong with the Viscount of Druitt, now? Did he do something terrible to you?"
"Well—" The red shade on Ciel's face grew even deeper. "Well I—"
"And so, before the academy picks you up, you have a fortnight more to study the individual cases of the dead boys, and then learn all about the life of being the son of the viscount. From now on, you should start practicing on your act on how to be Ciel Chambers, son of Aleistor. That way, your disguise would be even more effective. And it is crucial that your disguise is effective. The biography I sent over to the L'éveil must fit your character. I'll send the documents to you so can you can read over them. That way, while you investigate at L'éveil, no one would suspect you as Phantomhive—to them, you'll just be another spoiled brat to whip. Oh, wait." He paused, thinking like he forgot something. "You already are."
Sebastian pondered over this, ignoring that last jest. "You created the character of Ciel Chambers? Does that mean that whatever you've written on Ciel Chambers' biography, my young master would have to comply?"
"Exactly. To perfect his disguise completely, your young master has to live in the Druitt Estate for a considerable amount of time, know all there is to know about being a Chambers, forget about being a stiff, stuffy Phantomhive for a while." He looked at Ciel. "As we speak, Phipps is already there informing the Chambers of your arrival. Since L'éveil would surely check if the identities match, and we wouldn't want them to get nervous, it is vital that you do as I ask—and I ask you to play the part of Ciel Chambers well."
"Ciel Chambers? Live in the Druitt Estate? Be a part of the Chambers family? But the Viscount of Druitt doesn't even fit the figure of being a father in the first place!" Ciel couldn't even imagine that gawk with a permanent wife.
"Oh, don't be so sure," chided Grey. "He already has a family, you know."
"Lord Grey, I do not fancy your jokes."
"No, really. He has a wife, Irina Chambers, and a daughter, Lady Nice or Nicole or something." Grey took in Ciel and Sebastian's shocked reactions and sympathized with them. "I know, right?"
"But still," insisted Ciel, his natural childishness peeking through his dark clouds of adultness like a single ray of sunlight. Sebastian's wine red eyes widened a bit while he observed his master, who continued whining still. "You do not have the right to make decisions for me. I am the master of my own game. Forcing me to assume the position of Viscount Druitt's son—"
Grey moved so quickly that Ciel didn't even see him do it. But his face was now so close to Ciel and he was gripping at his wrist with an iron hold, pulling at him so that they'd only be inches apart. Sebastian, now alert, stood even more stiffly from the background as he watched the exchange between the two earls.
"—is something you should thank me for," Grey finished Ciel's previous sentence, his usually carefree face now dangerously ominous. "Your whining is annoying me. Really, now, are you in the place for complaining? This isn't like you at all, Watchdog. The only way you'd even be accepted into the academy and change identity with all the paperwork is through a royal warrant—that's why Her Majesty decided to intervene before all else. Mind you, the L'éveil de Castor is very strict with each student's particulars, so you can't just throw up a random disguise and be done with it like you did with the Weston case. They crucially check everything about every student, including great grandfathers and the brand of their mother's lipstick. The disguise has to be utterly convincing, and I chose Viscount Druitt because he is what he is—and you know what he is—and he is the most likely of all the available nobles to have a spoiled brat as a son. You can't even imagine all the trouble I had to go through just to finish all your disguised documents and get you enrolled. I'm helping you out here. So stop being such a spoiled little brat."
Ciel looked at his fellow earl for a moment or two, seriously considering his words. And then, he realized that he…may be right. Both of them, he and Charles Grey, were merely pawns in Queen Victoria's own game, moving across the chessboard in accordance to her commands. Both earls had the same lives of having to be burdened by their work as the Queen's allies in the darker world of England. Both go through the everyday trouble of having to dispel her worries.
Charles Earl Grey was just as much as a pawn in this chess game as Ciel Earl Phantomhive was.
The young lord yanked his wrist out of Grey's hold. Flicking away an imaginary speck of dust from his sleeve, Ciel crossed his legs, straightened his back, and turned his head in another direction to look at the rainy weather from outside, contemplatively.
He closed his eye.
"Very well. I shall assume the role Ciel Chambers until the investigation is over."
That dark, ominous look on Earl Grey's face suddenly vanished and got replaced by a sunny smile. He patted Ciel on the head, but the gesture itself seemed to shock the young lord—as if he found the sensation…unusual. Grey, however, was so used to giving away gestures to other people that even he wasn't able to notice such subtlety in Ciel's change of expression.
"You're a good dog, then, aren't you!" he commended. Then he stood up straight, adjusting the sword by his side at a more comfortable angle. "Well, finally, my work here is done. Sebastian, show me outside."
Sebastian bowed before him. "Of course. If you would please follow me this way…"
A marching of footsteps. Then the closing of the door. That left Ciel sitting alone in the silence, with the vicious thunderstorm still roaring its rage, pouring the sky's anger from the outside.
Ciel's gaze was a gone look as he observed the rain pour down its sorrowful torrents.
The thunderstorm…
The child sniffled, his eyes moist with tears, but he told himself to be brave and strong and looked up at his father, his big blue eyes sparkling against the dark. "…you really know?"
Vincent smiled and pulled his son closer to him. "Of course I do. I'm your Father. I will always be here to protect you."
Ciel unconsciously started to bring a hand up to hover over his face and then slowly on to his head, right where Grey had patted him.
Vincent patted his head with a loving hand, which seemed to surprise the young toddler.
"Now, tell me. What is wrong?"
"I…I…" The scared little kid's voice was trembling, and Vincent could feel it from the way the child's hand shook in his own. He clutched his father's hand more tightly than ever, as if it was the only thing holding him onto dear life. "Father, I—"
Stop.
Ciel stopped himself before the memory could go any further. He fisted his hand, and found it ridiculous that he was even reminiscing of such insignificant things. He shook his head. He had no use of the past—only the present and the future.
And who had he been kidding? That he was just a pawn in Queen Victoria's game?
He let a small chuckle escape from his lips. It was the laugh of a mastermind, the laugh of a wicked nobleman, the laugh of a villain—a disturbing sound to be heard in the midst of the rain.
Really.
He owned the entire chessboard. Her Majesty simply thought it royal to pretend she did.
Or perhaps…
…it was just the laugh of a lost child, desperate to move on.
~`.'~
"Butler," Grey called out. Sebastian stopped walking and looked at the lord behind him.
"Sir?"
Grey held his gaze. "Be sure to protect the earl while he's in this particular case."
Sebastian blinked. Just once. He was quick to overcome his surprise, though, as he had already put a hand to his chest and bowed respectfully before the noble in front of him. "My lord, you fascinate me. You do care about him."
"I don't. The Queen does." Grey strutted forward with a swagger in his steps, twirling a hand in the air to indicate his indifference. "She even hesitated from sending him on this particular mission, and that's saying something. L'éveil de Castor is a dangerous place. All the boys who returned home from the previous semester died of the same fatal illness days after their homecoming. That's a pattern with no fail. Her Majesty fears that when Phantomhive returns from this mission, he will be no different."
Sebastian just couldn't help but be surprised, as if all over again. He was a bit…sceptical. Well, nevertheless, who wouldn't be? After all the missions she had sent his young master to…
"So Her Majesty does care about my young master's safety."
Grey scoffed at that. "Without a ready Phantomhive in line, she wouldn't have another capable dog to play fetch with. Best you tell the earl that he start apologizing to his fiancée so they can make a new one already."
Sebastian coughed.
"Sorry," smirked Grey. "Couldn't help it."
"Of course, my lord." Sebastian smiled, although it was a struggle, because he was still trying to get over the earl's inappropriate words. "Then please send Her Majesty my and my lord's gratitude for her concern. We shall take very good care. Trust that I will fulfil my duty as a butler."
A carefree smile spread over Grey's handsome face. "I'll say. It seems strange to me that someone could even exist who is so dedicated to protecting his master that he'll surpass death just so he could continue doing so." The smile turned into a dark scowl as Grey remembered the events in the Phantomhive Manor involving Georg von Siemens—he was sure he'd already killed the bloody butler there.
Grey's scowl narrowed to focus it on Sebastian.
"Beastly inhuman."
"Oh, no," chuckled Sebastian, thoroughly amused of the abhorrence directed at him. "You do flatter me with your words, but I am simply…"
He bowed his head in narcissistic humility.
"…one hell of a butler."
~`.'~
Ciel's fingers held onto the letter in his hand, his gaze meandering through the fancy, cursive words in utter concentration.
My dear, cute little boy,
For the past days, I have been grieving for my cousin, Duke Clemens. He is really miserable when you reported that his son, Derrick Arden, is dead. Though on the other hand I am grateful for your assistance on finding his body, I cannot help but feel the melancholy. And now, even worse, there is the spreading news that boys of ages twelve to seventeen from the aristocratic families are dying of some strange illness as well. It worries me. I would be very sorrowful indeed for the members of my court when their sons shall be afflicted of it as well.
I have spent the past days in worry. Scotland Yard is not yielding any useful information. I would hate to prolong the case for them, and so I had no choice but to turn to you.
I do not wish to bother you with this, but will you investigate L'éveil de Castor, the private school where all the victims had come from? I already had Charles Grey prepare your documents for you, so that you wouldn't trouble yourself anymore from the tedious preparations of your enrolment. This is because I wish for you to concentrate solely in the case. I believe that the young gentlemen of this country, naughty or not, have the right to be protected from any maliciousness. I feel the fright as the mother of our country, for my sons in England. I wish for this strange illness to stop, and I trust that you will be the one to fulfil it.
Oh, and also, I beg of you one more thing.
Take care, my son.
~Victoria
Ciel stared several seconds more at the letter's last sentence.
Son. She called him son. 'My son.'
A mother who sends her son to places with nothing but 'murder' written all over it?
Ciel scoffed and let the letter slide over the mahogany table. He was nobody else's son.
More like a dog.
The door suddenly opened to interrupt his thoughts and the graceful tapping of footsteps could be heard entering. Without even looking at who it was, Ciel stood up, walked to the window, clasped his hands behind him, and issued his order.
"Sebastian. I want a full report on all the fourteen boys. Inquire friends, family. Consult even Scotland Yard's shoddy archive if you have to. I want you to know all about each of them, down to the very last detail. We shall also leave for the Undertaker and try to obtain—"
Then Ciel stopped, realizing what he'd just said.
Well. Of course.
He clenched his fists so tightly that they turned white.
How could he have forgotten?
With all that had happened in the Campania, at the Weston College, all his human experiments and bizarre dolls, the secrets he hold and the times he had almost killed him and Sebastian, the Undertaker was now a long gone ally from the past.
"Ah…" The butler's silken baritone gently pulled him out of his thoughts. "…would that be all, master?"
Ciel looked at Sebastian and didn't bother to go back and retrace his words. They didn't have the time to talk about the Undertaker with their hands full of a new case. They shall have to deal with the Undertaker and his shenanigans at a later time.
"Yes…of course." But the young noble thought that his wavering resolve washed away the strength of his tone, so he cleared his throat, and said it again. "Yes, that would be all I would need you to do. Understood?"
The butler bowed before him with a smile, understanding his master's words all too well. Even he would rather not run into the Undertaker again.
Ciel nodded. "Good."
The young boy turned and looked through the grey rain peppering the air, and he saw Charles Grey in his white clothes, running through the storm on the back of his royal horse.
"I wonder what made this case so special," he remarked, watching the white, ghostly figure speed away from the manor. "Her Majesty taking the liberty to help. Lord Grey taking the time to fix my identity for me. The Crown intervening with my work. That had never happened before."
"Agreed, my lord," said Sebastian. "Before he left, Lord Grey had even told me that you shall have to take special care in handling this case. I find it most unusual indeed."
"Still." Ciel gritted his teeth. "Blast that Grey. Taking action before I do…that is most unacceptable."
"Well, there is no help for it, my lord." The butler glided over the floor, and the sound of clinking chinaware could be heard as he started gathering the cups and saucers from the table back onto his teacart. "You have already been enrolled as Ciel Chambers and your full biography had already been sent to the L'éveil de Castor." Then he stole a glance over at his master. "But if you really wish for me to reenrol you in another disguise…"
"No. I will deal with it." Ciel put two fingers onto his forehead in an attempt to calm down a rising frustration. "The Queen wouldn't be pleased if she found out that I rejected her help. I have no choice in this. I shall be…" It took him all his strength to continue talking. "…the son of the Viscount of Druitt until the case ends."
"Wagging your tail at every little biscuit Her Majesty offers you, eh, my lord?" Sebastian chuckled as he put the last of the saucers back onto his teacart with long, gloved fingers, that last clink sounding a bit louder in the air than it should have. "You really are a dog, then—and a royal breed at that."
A dark look sharply descended upon Ciel's blue eyes and challenged the butler to repeat. "Sorry?"
A smile spread over Sebastian's face, proud that his cute little young master was starting to improve on how to look threatening. "Ah, nothing, my sincerest apologies, my lord."
Sincerest apologies? Ciel rolled an eye at that. "Yes, well, at any rate. Spend the rest of the day packing my things. As soon as tomorrow, we leave for the Druitt Estate." He started to walk away from the window and to the door. "As for me…perhaps since there is nothing to do but wait until you are done with the reports, I shall have to deal with paperwork."
Ciel walked past Sebastian's watching eye, the soles of his high heeled shoes tapping portentously over the floor, and continued doing so until his hand touched the door latch—until the butler called out to him.
"Young master."
His hand tightened around the metal latch, the blue ring on his finger glinting against the pale light from outside.
"What?"
"I heard convulsive sobbing from behind the door of the room where Lady Elizabeth is assigned."
Mortification blossomed red on Ciel's face. Not wanting to hear another word of it, he immediately opened the door, stepped outside, and closed it, marching down the halls with his head stubbornly held up high, forcing himself to forget it.
But Sebastian had followed him to pester his unfortunate soul some more. "Is the young master not going to apologize to the Lady Elizabeth?"
He refused to look at his butler. "Perhaps another time. I'm busy."
"It is best that you resolve this matter immediately, my lord," insisted Sebastian. "I assure you, the paperwork can wait. But the poor, fragile Lady Elizabeth whose pure heart had been broken by the cruelty of my young master…"
Those words obtained their desired effect. For a moment, Ciel paused, seeming to hesitate to take one more step forward. And then there it was again—the faint whiff of guilt in the air. But Ciel was swift to overcome it, as he shook his head and stubbornly walked forward again.
"I still have work to do. I have no time for such pointless stupidities."
"Oh?" Sebastian chuckled at the little figure of the proud, arrogant boy who refused to admit his faults to a lady he just made cry. The heartlessness never ceased to amuse the demon. "Then shall I go tell Lady Elizabeth that you hold your work more valuable because she is one such 'pointless stupidity'?"
Sebastian couldn't see it, but Ciel could feel his face getting hotter. He walked even faster, clenched his fists even tighter, and the voice that came out of his lips seemed a tad out of tune compared to the usual.
"I said no such thing, idiot."
"But you have implied it," smiled Sebastian. "So shall I go tell Lady Elizabeth that she is one such 'pointless stupidity'?"
"No!"
"Oh, but young master, you have implied that she is one such 'pointless stupidity', haven't you?"
"I most certainly have not!"
"Good heavens, my lord." Sebastian was simply amused of the young lord, whose reddening face was such a priceless rarity. "Aren't you quite the handsome little blusher—"
"Just shut up and bring me a parfait!"
Ciel slammed the door of his study onto his butler's face.
Three seconds of silence prevailed in the air, with the smile of the butler frozen on his face.
Then the smile turned into a grimace.
Very well, then. If his young master was going to be a brat to the core, then Sebastian might as well be the butler that he is.
He tugged onto his gloves, and pushed the doors open.
~`.'~
Five minutes later, Ciel was standing in front of her door, a hesitant fist hovering over the mahogany wood to knock the fateful knocks. The sobbing from the inside was racking his senses, though, and was preventing him from doing anything decent. Her sniffles were a terrible sound to his ears and it made his stomach twist in utter shame…remorse…guilt? Why, this was simply outrageous! He had never felt anything like this before, and he had faced more of life's terrible things than what was meant for a thirteen-year-old. It was an unusual feeling that he had to feel this way just because of a lady: his heart was pounding, the blood was rushing to his face, he felt a bit dizzy, and he was a touch away from throwing up.
He couldn't understand how the hell he let himself get dragged into this.
"No," he murmured, finally, and turned away from the door and started to go off in a huff. "I can't. Not today—"
"Young master, please." Sebastian grabbed his master by the shoulders before he could go any further. Ciel prodded him to let him go, but the butler was persistently stern when he said, "We have talked about this. You must apologize to the Lady Elizabeth as soon as it is possible if you do not want Marchioness Midford to come over to the manor herself. You and I know that her coming over here would be something to dread."
Ciel rolled his eye. "How far you have fallen. Are you telling me that a demon as mighty as you is actually scared of facing ladies who hold swords?"
Sebastian sighed exasperatedly. How far he had fallen, indeed—a mighty demon to be feared and worshipped, urging a bratty child to say sorry to his fiancée already.
"Actually, young master, perhaps you are telling me that the mighty Earl of Phantomhive is scared of facing ladies who hold swords."
"I'm not." Ciel slapped Sebastian's hand away and he continued walking forward. "I just couldn't face her today."
"As you wish, then, young master. If the young lord insists to keep Lady Elizabeth sobbing on her pillow the entire day and perhaps even the night because he has broken her fragile little heart, then let us please proceed to your study."
And so, master and servant went on their way down the quiet hallway, Elizabeth's sobs still faintly heard along the walls, echoing in the vast chamber.
And it echoed.
And echoed.
And echoed some more.
Resist.
But he couldn't.
…Ciel, his face a maddening red, suddenly turned around in his heel and walked back again.
"Fine! I'll do it!"
A victorious Sebastian smirked after his master.
"Of course, my lord."
~`.'~
Elizabeth was in her room, sobbing. The sobs were pitiful, traced with hiccups and sniffles, and every time she forced herself to quieten already and calm down, the tears would only worsen, bubbling up to the point that she couldn't hold it down anymore, and then she would cry all over again. She had gathered all the pillows around her, pulling the thick quilts closer to her in a tighter embrace. Her shoulders were racking, her eyes were red, her face a mess, the strands of her hair limp and lifeless, and they stuck to her wet face which, for once, didn't make her feel the tiniest bit upset that she had to look like such a disaster.
Darkness crawled up to her bed with the long fingers of the shadows, the room drenched entirely in a miserable mood. It was morning, yes, but the raging torrent from the outside blocked out all traces of the sun and made the air a pale, cold grey. It was as if the weather felt exactly how she felt. It was a comforting thought that would cross her mind every now and then when she just sat there and thought of nothing but listen to the pattering of the rain.
Then again, no matter how much she wanted to push it all away and forget it, she simply couldn't take it off of her mind. When Ciel had rejected her and slapped her away, like she was garbage to be thrown, like she was some sort of thing he was so disgusted to look at…
"Stop it! Get this filthy thing away from me!"
Elizabeth shut her eyes close so tightly to the point that she fervently wished that everything that had happened this morning would just go away, so that everything would be back to normal again. She wished she was just blind so that her eyes wouldn't have to unwantedly replay that scene over and over inside her head. She was being killed with every passing second and her heart felt like it was being stabbed by a thousand lances. With her small and shaking figure, her knees drawn up to her chin, her arms wrapped around herself, her eyes wet and reflecting the kind of light that was slowly meeting the spectrum of darkness and lifelessness…
She felt like nothing but a wilted flower.
She had done nothing wrong, had she? She had a selfless heart, and all she had ever wished for was his happiness. She was a pure, chaste, immaculate white lily, floating over the water as beautifully as a lady. Ciel, however, was a rose growing among thorns, and no matter what the water lily would do, it would never be able to get near him. A white lily would not grow in the harsh conditions where the rose could. A white lily could never hope to live in a place without water.
Today, Elizabeth had tried to crawl out of the pond—and as a result, she was drained to the point of lifelessness.
It was an impossible task. She had done everything, but still, up until now, nothing had succeeded. For some reason, she and Ciel had been doing nothing but going around in endless circles, going everywhere but getting nowhere. Repeatedly, she'd been chasing him, but he was just too far away, too out of reach. That was practically the story of her entire life. He meant the whole world to her. She loved him with all her heart.
She loved him.
And it frightened her.
Because…what if…
…what if all she'd been chasing after, all along, is something that doesn't even exist anymore? What if…
What if the Ciel she knew now is…is…is not actually—
Knock, knock, knock.
Elizabeth, shocked, looked up from her melancholy, and stared at the door. Realizing who it might be, the lady simply turned back to her own gloominess, and said, "Paula, please, I told you not to—"
"Lizzy," said the familiar voice. It was firm, but gentle. "It's me."
The girl bit her lip upon knowing who it was. She was silent.
"Are you decent?" asked the voice further. But still, Elizabeth chose it best not to reply, and simply buried herself even deeper into her pillows.
From the other side of the door, Ciel was a bit struck by how Elizabeth hadn't even bothered to talk. That had never happened before.
"Alright, my lady. I'm entering."
And Ciel did. He found her buried in a nest of quilts and pillows, her back turned to him; but he could see her shoulders jerking and convulsing with every hiccup and sniffle. He walked carefully, as if he had just stepped into a fragile room where one wrong act might shatter everything. But as he did, he stepped onto a stuffed bunny toy with large ears and a patch over one eye. He bent down to pick it up. Seeing it made him smile, even for just a bit. Elizabeth still kept this stuffed toy, didn't she?
He put it beside the bedside table before sitting onto the bed where Elizabeth was.
And since it was not his fashion to beat around the bush, from there, he went straight to the point.
"I am sorry, Lizzy," he said, immediately. "My actions this morning have been simply inexcusable. I had been nothing but a fool. So, please." He reached out to her, touched her warm hand, and kept it in his cold ones. Elizabeth finally lifted her eyes from her grief, sparkling green eyes meeting a sincere blue.
The earl summoned his courage to say it. "Forgive me."
Elizabeth bit her lip, and looked at Ciel, holding his gaze with her emotions swirling madly from the inside.
"C…C…Ciel…I..."
And then, right at that moment, everything spilled—from her eyes, down her face, and eventually, into Ciel's clothes. She lunged at him, sobbing a new round of fresh tears, burying herself into his chest as she did so.
"Ciel! I—I—I—I never th-thought—th-that y-you w-w-w-wouldn't—e-ever c-come to—I really—I was r-r-r-really…"
Her words became more incoherent as her sobs worsened, and Elizabeth could think of doing nothing else but pull herself closer to Ciel, her shoulders being racked with hiccups and tears. The boy found himself in a rather awkward situation, as he wasn't really very good at handling crying girls, but he told himself that he should restrain himself from pushing her away this time. Her heart was already broken, and doing so would only be like throwing the remnants to the floor and stepping on them.
He slowly let his hand land onto her head so he could stroke her hair. He started doing so very awkwardly, but eventually he was able to do it. It was the only thing he probably knew about giving comfort to other people. Elizabeth, motivated by his soothing touch, simply cried even further.
"I…I am sorry too, Ciel! It's just that…I hadn't cried since I s-saw Father in that accident, and I am s-s-simply overcome today when everything had piled up and I just do not know what to…to…" She wasn't able to finish, because she sobbed once more.
As held her close to him and watched her cry into his chest, he felt rather…peculiar, after hearing those words. After all, he, Ciel, Earl Phantomhive, was the Queen's Watchdog, whose sole job was to assassinate cheaters, murder criminals, and heartlessly chase after felons for all his life, and he had never felt a single trickle of guilt for all he'd done—he was the villain who pointed guns on people's heads, set fire on the innocents' lives, trampled upon the lowly and treated them as mere chess pieces for his selfish victory, and nothing more. His very name struck fear onto his enemies' hearts, for with it he carried the curse which was his family's legacy.
And, to think that Elizabeth, who hadn't even done anything wrong, who had only wanted him to be happy, apologizing to someone like him…
"…Lizzy," he said, firmly. "You shouldn't be apologizing for anything. I'm sorry for being cruel to you earlier. But I simply…I simply cannot accept the kitten as the gift. I do not have the time to keep it. I hope you…understand."
"No. It's…it's okay." Lizzy pulled herself away, and laughed tearfully as she started to wipe away the last tears from her eyes with the heel of her hand. "It was my mistake for thinking that you will like her. I just thought that you will remember that time when we picked up that kitten back when we were younger…" Elizabeth looked into Ciel's eyes. "You do remember it, right?"
Ciel blinked for a moment, wondering what on Earth she was talking about. He had no memories of such thing—
And then it hit him.
"Ah. Right. Right. Of course," he said, barely able to cough up the words from the back of his throat. "Of course, I…remember it well."
Elizabeth stared at Ciel, who looked back at her with that expression that she knew all too well. Ciel probably thought that he could hide it from her, because, like everyone else, he was one of those people who thought that she was too naïve and too innocent to ever see and understand. But she knew it, she knew what that expression was, because she wore it all the time.
You are not lying, Ciel…are you?
"Well, Ciel!" said Elizabeth, already cheering up—or, rather, forcing herself to. "Wherever you are happy, I shall be happy for you! It is really fine, don't worry about it! Now, let us just forget about everything that had happened this morning, okay?" She put her hands onto his, and looked up into his eye. "I shall bring you a better gift the next time I shall go here, and I will make sure that it would make you happy. Is that fine?"
"You..." Ciel stared into Elizabeth's eyes, finding it hard to believe that a person with such a pure heart could ever even exist. "Lizzy…you don't…you don't have to go through all the trouble…"
"Ah, that is no trouble at all!" insisted the girl. "I would be very happy to look for another gift to give you! But what is important is that we are not fighting anymore, yes? You do not…hate me anymore, right?"
"I never hated you. Not once."
Lizzy's face brightened like the sun. "Ciel, I am so glad! We are together again, forgiving each other without hesitation! I really love it!" She giggled, so happily, that Ciel simply couldn't help but lift his lips up in a faint smile at the sight of her like that. It was a true wonder how she could be so happy because of the littlest things.
"I already imagine the kind of parents we would be to our children, teaching them kindness, forgiveness, and happiness," she continued, sighing as if she were in a dream. "I wonder what kind of family we will have someday! I certainly hope that it will be a family full of love! We will sing Twinkle Twinkle, and I will cradle our daughter in my arms, and you will be watching her from behind me, singing along the lyrics! How very nostalgic, indeed!" She clapped her hands in delight, like a child with no other care in the world, and turned from her fantasies to look at her fiancé. "What do you say, Ciel? I think you will make a very adorable father!"
"Ah…I…" Ciel's face reddened. On top of understanding only half of the words she just said, he also found it a tad awkward that they had to make this conversation in Elizabeth's room. "Well…indeed, I think you will make a lovely mother."
And then that's when Ciel suddenly sneezed.
It shattered Elizabeth's fantasies. She looked at Ciel with an unreadable expression overshadowing her eyes as she watched Ciel's nose redden as if from an allergy. Or maybe it was not an allergy. Perhaps…perhaps it was just the cold?
"Ciel?" inquired Elizabeth, and she reached out a hand to touch his and squeeze his fingers. "Are you alright?"
"It's just the cold, Elizabeth, nothing more," he said, his voice a bit dulled by his runny nose. "Anyway, I shall be going now, my lady. I still have work to do."
"W…work? Already?" Elizabeth's voice sounded broken, and she watched as Ciel started to gather himself and get up from her bed. Already, she could feel the emotions starting to get stirred up and swirl inside of her all over again. Would this how her family with Ciel be like? She and their children would only always be left at him, while the father always had to go out and away, committing himself to nothing else but his job? "But Ciel…why? I just came here!"
Ciel stood from the bed, took the lady's hand, and bowed before her, just as Sebastian had instructed that all gentlemen must do.
"I have to. As long as I bear the Phantomhive name, this is my duty. My first priority."
With that final note, he let go of her hand, and he started to walk away. But just before his hand started to push open the door…
"…Ciel?"
He turned his head to look at her sideways. "Yes, what is it?"
"I…I just wanted to ask you," she began. "Are you…really…"
The very nature of her question made Ciel stiffen. But then he told himself to calm down and get it together. It's probably nothing, he assured himself. Probably nothing at all.
"Am I really what?" he prodded, cautiously, carefully, already building up his walls in case everything went downhill.
But then Elizabeth decided that she shouldn't. She shouldn't question it. She shouldn't question the fact that he was Ciel. He was Ciel Phantomhive, the boy she loved, and the man she was going to marry. She had to banish her doubts. She just had to believe in it, nothing more. Of course he was Ciel—of course he was. She just had to keep lying to herself to keep her sanity intact.
It was, after all, easier to believe in a lie than to have to bear with the truth.
"Well, I just wanted to ask," she said, finally, a smile spreading over her lovely face. "When will you be coming back?"
Ciel blinked at her for several times. He had been expecting quite a heavier question than that. But perhaps he had to be relieved, and decided that he should have nothing to fear after all.
He smiled. "Don't worry, Elizabeth. I shall return as soon as the case is finished."
"Oh," she replied. She looked at him, still with a smile on her face. "Well. I wish you good luck. Take care, okay?"
A small smile reached Ciel's eyes and he nodded. "Thank you. I will."
And then the door closed, blocking the light from outside to cloak Elizabeth in the darkness.
~`.'~