A/N: Without fail, I have once again delivered a chapter…. LATE! Anywho, has anyone else watched the Funimation dub of Kuro yet? Pretty interesting… And on that note, please enjoy!

Disclaimer: Kuroshitsuji, its characters, plot, and other whatnot do not belong to me. Whoop-de-doo.

Promptly snapping her jaw shut, Astrid still could only stare in incredulity as she attempted to process what she had just witnessed. She looked over to Undertaker, only to see that he was now deep in thought, if his careful stroking of his scythe was any indication. It was difficult to say with his hair concealing his eyes like that. In an effort to rouse her host, Astrid stood from her seat and lightly tapped the brim of his hat. Lifting up his head slightly, Undertaker grinned and tapped her on her own head in response. "Yes, m'dear?"

"You promised me answers," she stated frankly. Both knew there was no more use now in beating around the bush.

"Ah, I did, didn't I? Very well, ask anything you would like," Undertaker said pleasantly, spreading his arms in an arc, as if were trying to show he had nothing to hide. Naturally, the rather large scythe in his hand ruined the effect. Plopping himself on the coffin opposite of Astrid, Undertaker positioned his scythe in the crook of his arm and perched his chin on his laced fingers.

Taken aback by his relaxed attitude (when only a few moments ago, he seemed perfectly at ease with slicing her arm), Astrid awkwardly cleared her throat before fixing her host with her own calculating glare.

"What are you?" she asked, without the barest hint of faltering. "How did you erase my memories? Why did you cut my arm?"

Chuckling gleefully, Undertaker replied, "Not wasting any time, are we? Very well, I shall keep my word and answer your questions. Nonetheless," he said, lifting a clawed finger, "once this information is given, there is no turning back." However, from simply glimpsing the sheer determination in her eyes, Undertaker could see that his warning hardly fazed her at all.

"Very well," he continued. "To answer your question, over the centuries mortals have given us the name 'Reapers.' Can I assume you are familiar with the term?"

Again, she appeared dumbstruck.

Sighing to himself, Undertaker murmured, "It seems that some tea may be necessary for this."

"And how do I know that I can trust your word?" Astrid questioned, a warm beaker of tea now firmly in her hands.

"M'dear, may I direct your attention back toward this particular device?" Undertaker drawled, nudging his scythe with a leather boot.

"Ah."

"Should I remind you of anything else before we continue?" he asked, lightly sipping his own beaker.

"Er… no."

"Excellent. As I was saying, we Reapers have tangled with the human "affairs" since eternity itself began. We sever man's physical connection to life so that he may continue his journey in the afterlife."

"And just… how do you accomplish that?"

"Interesting process there," Undertaker smirked. "What happens, is that when a human approaches death, we view their lives in something called a "Cinematic Record." Now, humans themselves can only witness this record when they are either dying or are sliced by wondrous objects such as these," he said, tapping his scythe with his foot once again. "I believe that most humans say that they see their 'life flashing before their eyes' or something along the lines of that. Regardless, the Reaper then judges the affected based on if their continued existence would benefit the world or not. Unfortunately, it usually falls to the latter. The victim's life is then recorded in books that are gathered together in a great library. Did you get all that?"

Rather than fall into another faint, Astrid took a deep sip of her tea. A very deep sip. "I think so," she said hesitantly. "So the memory that we watched came from my own 'record' then?"

"Right on the nose," he sniggered, leaning forward to tap her nose for emphasis.

"Do Reapers have any other powers?"

"Now, you can't honestly expect me to spoil everything for you?" he asked mirthfully, picking up his scythe. "However, I will tell you that most are limited to their reaping skills alone. What I used to suppress your memory was a rather odd trick that I picked up through the centuries." Then, with a flick of his wrist, his blade suddenly disappeared. Her mouth threatening to hang open once again, Astrid felt a thousand more questions run through her mind. Perhaps this man— er… Reaper could never be solved.

Taking a few more sips from her beaker, Astrid quietly mulled over what she had now gotten herself into.

"Another question," she continued. "In that memory, those two men received a container of something. What was that anyway?"

Standing up to his full height, Undertaker slowly drew a small bottle out of the folds of his cloak. "You mean this?" Holding it in front of her face, he leered down at her with his Cheshire grin. "You may not recognize it, but others know it as strychnine." Sliding the bottle back into his cloak, Undertaker began pacing in circles around his guest. "Fairly lethal, it takes only half a grain to kill a mortal. Once consumed, it then proceeds to send the victim into convulsions, followed by a rather tedious period of suffocation, and eventually, death. Of course, for those like myself, this only serves as drug. Much like opium to humans, strychnine has addictive qualities for us Reapers."

"Then what did that other man want with it?" To her chagrin, this brought Undertaker's pacing to an immediate halt beside her. From her view, Astrid could see his tapered fingers twitch slightly in apprehension. For a few moments, the only sound she could hear was the sound of her own breathing.

"You gave me your word that you would answer me," she murmured uneasily.

"… That I did," Undertaker answered with a trace of wariness. "You're in far too deep for your own good anyway," he muttered darkly. Another piercing silence following his statement, Astrid awkwardly began tapping her nails on the near-empty beaker. "To answer your question," he suddenly replied. "The reaper who erased your memories goes by the name Richard Greaves—"

"Wait… you know him?" Astrid spluttered.

"Naturally. We were… associates," Undertaker said with a hint of hesitance and regret. "But I digress. My guess is that Greaves now serves that man in exchange for strychnine if anything. However, it will need more looking into."

"… One last question."

"Yes?" he said pleasantly, his darker tone now replaced with a wide smile.

"…Was he the one who gave you those scars?"

Silence.

"Now now, that's a story for another day," he said lightly, patting Astrid on her cheek. "Dawn is still far from approaching, and I'm afraid I have been neglecting my other guests. We shall continue this at a later time." Without another word, Undertaker stood from his coffin and began to gather his necessary embalming utensils. Casually watching him as she gulped down the remainder of her tea, Astrid began to make her way toward the bedroom to get whatever rest she could. But before she could even reach the back room, a voice called out to her.

"Astrid."

"… Yes?" she hesitantly replied.

"I am… sincerely sorry for not trusting you," Undertaker said softly.

Offering him a small smile, Astrid shook her head. "There's nothing to apologize for. Now, good night."

"… Good night," he replied, tipping his hat towards her. And as the door to his room shut behind her, he murmured, "And thank you."

A/N: Annnnnnnd cut, take, that's a wrap, moving on. Hope you enjoyed the fluff you were begging for! And here's wishing that you all have a great holiday!