You paused as you were munching on a few small pieces of vegetables, noticing the man staring directly at you as he sat upon an old looking chair, before you went back to staring off into space. The soup, or perhaps, stew the man made was oddly delicious, though you wondered if he… added anything. Not that you care, anymore, cause if you were going to die you suppose you would have, but it'd be unfortunate if you were brought back from the brink of death, only to drop dead a few moments later.

But as you continued to feel his eyes upon you, hidden behind his tussle of silver bangs, even though you practically stated that you know he's a grim reaper, you couldn't help but sigh, turning back to him and giving him one of your famous, irritated glares as he began to grin a bit more childishly in response. "… Are you done? Is watching someone eat really that interesting, or are you hoping the poison would take its effect sooner?"

"Ga pahahahaha~!" he suddenly responded, your eyes continuing to eye him as he laughed at your 'joke', but as his laughter died down, and you were giving him a stern irritated glare, he snickered into his sleeve before leaning on his knees. "Oh. Oh my. You're a delight."

"Really? You enjoy basic sarcasm? –"

"You are, how should I say it~?... Blunt," he smirked, suddenly scooting his chair closer to your bedside, and you frowned in response as he innocently grinned at your silent answer. His leering eyes were starting to unnerve you, but before you could utter something in response, he continued, "You have… intriguing eyes for a grim reaper," he decided to say, causing your eyes to look at him rather shocked, but slowly you turned away, reaching your right hand up to your right eye to sigh softly at his words, causing him to pout slightly at your sad reaction. "Don't tell me you dislike your own reflection."

"You could say that," you mumbled in irritation, your hands wrapping around the tray on your lap to shove it away from your lap and further down your legs, but apparently getting the hint, he took the tray from you with a grin and made his way to a table, setting the tray down before returning to your bedside with a grin lining his face. "… What are you seeing, actually?" you decided to ask, causing the man to stop his constant giggling as you gave him an honest, unsure look. "I haven't looked at a mirror since I woke up," you told him, causing him to snicker.

"Are you so vain~ as to desire to see your own reflection?"

"No," you responded, a bit too bluntly, but his response was a tad insulting as you rubbed your right eye, as if it was starting to irritate you. Maybe it is, as you felt a familiar, faint sting that you'd normally be grumbling about, but you held back your discomfort as you tried to give an honest, yet roundabout reply. "… I can't exactly tell if my eyes look weird or if there's scars all over my face. Okay? You may not mind visible scars, but I do. People look at you differently if you have a scar," you frowned, letting your hand drop to your side before your other hand went to scratch the back of your neck. "Anyways, there's something else I wanted to discuss with you."

"Oh?" he replied in a curious tone, and you gave him a curious glance before sighing underneath your breath, composing yourself, before staring directly into his bangs, where you figured his eyes currently are.

"You've been… strangely nice. What are you expecting as payment for your kindness? No one acts without a hidden motive," you stated, bluntly, but you needed to know.

There's always a hidden agenda. A hidden motive for anyone to be nice to you. Always. Even the kindest human in existence was only kind for their own eternal salvation. What you don't understand is why a grim reaper would bother with a thing like yourself.

"You assume~ I'm expecting something? –"

"Yes," you responded bluntly, once again, slowly sitting up in the bed and wishing you could leave it. Being cooped up in one spot can be maddening, at times, and this man is still a stranger. It doesn't matter if you're honest or not, but he's still a damn stranger to you.

He seemed to pause, staring at your calculating look as you narrowed your eyes at him. Expecting an answer. Not wanting, but expecting. Heck, if he doesn't say something you might as well –

"You… remind me of a little dearie I used to know," he finally stated, giving you a light smile that turned a bit crude as you gave him a completely confused look in return. "She's dead, though."

"Oh… I'm sorry to hear that," you decided to respond with a tired sigh, before looking at him and raising a curious eyebrow at him. "How, though? Was she a half breed, like me?"

"No, but a curious little soul. That is all," he told you, your eyes looking into his bangs as you thought his words over, only for you to sigh and glance away, frowning at that thought. "… Jealous~?"

"Why would I be? Truth or not, at least it's an answer, I guess," you grumbled in irritation, but you could tell his smile began to slowly fade as you reached for your right eye, once more, rubbing at your closed eyelid as you felt your eye was on fire.

"My question is," he decided to say, causing your head to glance over at him as he continued simply, "where is your family? Are you an orphan?" you heard him ask, your gaze glancing him over before you turned away and let a scoff leave your breath.

Right… are you? You are, right? But… if you're honest, would it matter?

You certainly don't want to overstay your welcome, so…

"… Mum died. Dad died. So, I guess so," you mumbled in response before looking over at him and narrowing your eyes in suspicion. "Why?"

"Simply wondering what you plan on doing when you can finally stand on your own two legs, my dear," he grinned in response, trying to act innocent, but you could tell he was continuing to prob you for information.

"Probably… leave. Why?" you responded, again, narrowing your eyes as you gave him a suspicious glance.

But he grinned at your irritated attitude, trying to hold back his giggling as he gave you a grin in return. "I was simply thinking, since you're a delight~ to be around, perhaps you'd like to work here as my little mortician in training?" he grinned, but as you gave him a blank stare in reply his smile slowly began to diminish over his face. "… Unless you don't want to."

"Why?" you asked once more, prompting him to give you a slightly irritated look in response, which, you had to admit, seemed rather amusing considering he's been tormenting you since you woke up.

"Why must you keep asking? –"

"Not to be offensive, but every single creature I've ever met expects something out of me, okay? Work in your shop? To what end? Sure, I could work here, pay off the unspoken debt I should probably repay to you for helping me out, but other then that, why? What? You want to use me? Torment me? I'm not in the mood to be used right now," you frowned, but instead of being mad or looking confused, he simply blinked, staring at your posture, your stern look, your calculating gaze, and, surprisingly, began to smile. Smirk, even.

And then he began to laugh.

He laughed so hard he tumbled down to the ground, and you stared at him, utterly confused, as he rolled on the dirty floor with his hands clutching his chest as he laughed heartily at your words.

You couldn't help but blush.

Well… this is weird. He's such a weirdo.

"You're crazy," you finally stated out loud, his laughter dying down, just slightly, as he stared up at your looming figure above him, looking down on him as he wiped away a few stray tears, before he wheezed and sighed in an attempt to stop his uncontrollable laughter. "… Yep. Crazy," you grumbled, slumping back into the bed, sighing tiredly to yourself as you rubbed at your face, too exhausted to care, anymore.

"I wish I could just be dead already," you groaned, your hand over your face as you rubbed at your face, at your right eye.

Yes, death. The sweet release of death…

Why can't you have that?

No more pain. Suffering. Torment. You just want this life to be over.

Your life sucks.

This sucks.

This just all needs to end already…

Your gaze fell upon a nearby glass. Barely filled with water, now, but it was so close. Maybe if you shatter the glass you could cut yourself. Make yourself bleed a bit. At least knock yourself out for a while so you could stop thinking so much.

The kids… Rosie.

Maybe… they really don't need you. You've just caused trouble anyways.

Maybe the easiest thing would be to walk into the belly of the beast and never step out. Let the demons and devils you've been avoiding all this time consume you completely… Why did your mother damn you like this?

Why do you have to be cursed?

"Child… Lara?... Clara," you heard a voice, so blunt and strict, that it was enough to snap you out of your dark thoughts.

If only for a moment.

But what truly brought you back was the stare you were getting. The face right up against your own, with a slight look of fright in his bright glinted green gaze that it was enough to blink in confusion, before rubbing your sore head. "Ah… sorry –"

"Don't be. I shouldn't have pushed anything," he responded, your gaze following his for a moment before you scoffed, pushing his shoulder to get his face away from yours as you slowly sat back up in the bed, wishing you could just stand to your feet, already.

"No, no… I was being too judgmental. I just have a hard time trusting people. That's all," you decided to say, giving him a meek smile before glancing away and frowning.

Ugh! Lying in this bed doing nothing is starting to mess with your head. You could use a drink or two right about now, but alas, you doubt you'd be given a beer or anything if you just asked. You are seemingly very young… and you are, but still.

"I understand," he stated, though you wonder if he really does or not, but instead he gave you a sudden pat on the head, causing you to give him a confused look as he silently left the room, his tray in his hands as he disappeared down the hallway.

What… was that about?

But you sighed, rubbing your sore head before you slowly slumped into the bed, closing your eyes with a slight pout lining your face.

You're sick of people referring to you to one relative or the other. How you're never just, well, you. It's insulting, if you outright admit it, but of course you doubt he'd know that.

You couldn't help but stare up at the ceiling, deep in thought. Well… maybe you could stay for a little while, but you need to find those kids. If they're dead, then what was the point of all of this? Recovering, only to find the entire world has burned around you.

! #$%^&*())(*&^%$# !

You don't know how, or when, but you finally managed to stand on your own too feet without tumbling to the floor, though the pain in your side was still throbbing. But now, you could roam around this mortuary, and the thought of exploring was enough to keep you motivated to move about.

First, you noticed you must be on the ground floor, for you could hear footsteps above your head as you left the tiny room you had been confined to and reached the thin, rather cramped hallway. Using the wall to keep you upright, you reached the end of the hallway, after passing a few closed doors that you figured held decaying corpses, to notice a rather spacious room filled with pristine looking caskets and coffins, lining the floors, the sides of the room, and one seemed to be used as a table with a bunch of stuff on top. But, you wandered over to a desk covered in paperwork, your hands picking up some of the paper to read it, before discarding it onto the desk to glance at the large bookshelf.

Dusty, filled with very old books, you couldn't help but notice nothing was… off. You picked up a medical book, filled with diagrams of bodies in all sorts of poses and styles, from bones to muscle all the way to skin, but the book was dated 1837…

That's not right, is it?

"Does he know what he's even doing?" you scoffed at an eerie thought. Maybe you are kidnapped by some deranged killer and you're his next play victim.

But something else caught your eyes as you noticed a particular piece of paper, and you picked it up to notice it was a profile of one of the deceased. "1880?... What?" you mumbled in confusion when you realized the death date, your eyes picking up another sheet of paper to notice the same date, but a different day, month, and year. 1881…

Wait. Did something happen while you were knocked out?

Did the reapers rewrite history or something? Chop out the last few centuries to give themselves more time to prepare? Or…

Was something else at play?...

Why… are you the only one here? Why haven't you seen the others? Surely Rosie would have gone out of her way to find you.

Unless she really thinks you died. That's a possibility too –

"What are you looking at~?" you heard a familiar, creepy voice right behind you, but before he could snicker you held the piece of paper in your hand up in his face, causing him to pause as you let a scoff leave your breath.

"What year is this?" you asked, bluntly, and he gave you a confused look.

"Whatever do you mean? –"

"The year? Day? Month? Tell me, what does the newspaper say?" you asked, again, and you figured he was seeing you as a complete crazy person, but hey. So is he, now isn't he?

"… February 7, 1881, of course. Why do you ask? –"

"Shit. God damn it, are you serious?" you scoffed, putting the paper back down on the desk, your eyes darting around before you scrambled to the front door, shocking the man temporarily as you opened the dusty and old looking door to look outside.

The streets… were cobblestone. Not cerement.

There were no cars, but you noticed a carriage being pulled by a horse rushing down the street, shocking you into stepping back into the building before you could get run over.

What the?...

Why are you?...

You slumped there, your hands on the door knob with wide, confused eyes, your body trembling slightly at the possibility that, yes, you time traveled. How? You're still confused about that. You replayed the events in your head. Everything that you could possibly remember. The fighting, the fear, the resolve to keep fighting to the bitter end. The pain in your side. Heck, you can't even recall when you were slashed across the chest, but…

That… clock.

You were called out of your deadly dance by Rosie because you hit a clock, and before you knew it…

"… Hmm…" you mumbled, your face growing from fright and confusion to a stern uncertainty, though you were becoming more and more sure of your current situation.

Which means…

The others. Did you leave them behind to suffer? Is that why you weren't found in a massive pile with them, and buried somewhere in the reaper realm? Surely that's the case… You hope that's the reason.

Even if this is some happy accident, or a terrible nightmare, the thought of dooming everyone else… is scary. It truly is. What if you mess up, again? If you couldn't save your future, then how could you possibly believe you can rewrite the past? All by yourself? Even when everyone began to take you seriously, try to use your little insights to change, it was too late. Now, sure, you can try again, but no one knows you. No one thinks you're some chosen one that can save everyone. A creature created for the purpose of attempting to correct past mistakes.

They're just going to happen, regardless if you want them to or not, and it'll be all your fault for not stopping them.

You didn't realize it, but you crying, a stray hand reaching up to brush a tear away, but more took its place. This… burden. It's terribly overwhelming. You hated to cry like this, but… you can't help yourself. But before you began to tumble to your knees, your legs unable to support your weight anymore, you felt arms wrapping around you from behind in an attempt to comfort you.

That didn't mean his efforts helped, but at least his presence is a strange comfort. To you. Like a baby blanket or a pacifier is to a little infant.

It took you a while to stop crying, to stop whimpering like a scared puppy, but eventually you relaxed, not at all pushing the man away. You… didn't care anymore. What's the point in caring too much, anyways? But, you had this feeling you should probably explain yourself so you wiped a few more stray tears, probably making your face look red and puffy and your eyes bloodshot, but you pushed that disgusted feeling in yourself away and instead slowly turn to face the concerned looking man. "I'm… sorry for scaring you like this."

"It is fine," he chuckled, waving off your apology, but no. It's not alright, and the tired, sad look on your face was enough to make his grinning slow into a slight line. "Or perhaps not? I understand if you don't wish to tell me, but –"

"I don't think secrecy matters anymore," you sighed, reluctantly, suddenly standing to your feet and stumbling your way back over to the messy desk and dusty bookshelf, looking everything over as you pondered how you'd explain this.

But the thought of not being direct was a bit maddening. If there's anything that you're good at, and bad at, would be being direct with people. Not beating around the bush when it's absolutely necessary to. It's a strength and a vice, but hey, that's how you are. Maybe it's genetic, maybe you learned that from your father, but either way that's just how you tend to be. It's easier that way, anyways.

"What… I'm about to tell you is crazy. I know. I can understand if you don't believe me," you began, your hands reaching for another scrap of paper, reading the death date on the sheet. 'January 30th 1881' flashed in front of your face, causing you to pout as you placed the paper back down, but your hand threatened to crumple half of it in your tightening grasp. You wanted to say it, your thoughts… your worries, your revelation, but your voice caught in your throat.

You've been rather weird, now haven't you? Would this be the turning point? Would he toss you out after this? Even if you were stranger, all of the sudden, the thought of abandonment in a world you could never fully understand hit you like a ton of bricks. It stung more then moving. Losing your mother. Trying to accept this reaper blood you apparently have. Realizing that there's more to this world then just… being human. All of it. You've been tumbling and tumbling, and did you really want to fall any deeper into this hole others have created? It's not like you had a choice, but if you keep your mouth shut, maybe you can hold onto something? Your sanity, perhaps?

This could just all be a dream, though, but no dream could be this vivid, but… the thought of waking up in your own pool of blood on the ground… or perhaps this is purgatory. Limbo. That's a possibility too, and you just have to realize that to break this illusion.

But no illusion is this vivid. So, it can't be fake, which means…

"… Lara?" you head his voice, calling to you in an attempt to awaken you from your thoughts. Realizing what you had done, again, you glanced at him, giving him a meek smile before frowning and looking away. You… didn't want to talk. You just don't. This is all so… scary, but as he noticed your tears starting to form back in the corners of your bright eyes, you could feel his arms wrapping around you, again. A strange black blanket that seemed to shield you from the rest of the cruel and unforgiving world.

"Sorry," was all you could mumble in reply, feeling defeated, but mainly just tired. You're tired of overthinking, of worrying so much. You just want this all to end –

"I may not understand what is going on in your mind, but perhaps you can explain to me your thoughts? You're becoming worrisome," he explained, simply, hoping to cox you into talking, and you gripped his sleeves tightly, still deciding if you should tell him the truth or not. "… Or perhaps~ we can have some lunch. I was making our supper when you started stirring."

"Food… sounds nice," you mumbled in reply, feeling like a weak, defenseless puppy… or rather, a weak human that can't do anything right, but you let the man guide you up a set of stairs you didn't actually notice, to an upper floor you didn't think existed. Yeah, you could hear footsteps, but you thought maybe it was someone's living quarters, but of course why would anyone want to live above a mortuary if they weren't working there, anyways?

You let yourself drift down and sit into a chair that was offered to you, your eyes tired and glazed over while you stared blankly at the wooden table. After a while, you sighed. You realized your throat was dry, in desperate need of water, but you could last without basic things for a while longer. You don't want to trouble your host, after all.

But you felt… dead. More like a ghost. A phantom, drifting from one place to the next… Is that all you are? A Phantom? Maybe you are becoming more and more like one… and you don't like that.

Not one bit.

! #$%^&*())(*&^%$# !

A/N: I couldn't wait. I had to post another chapter!

I promise this is probably the last chapter, for today/tonight. I decided to wait to post this next chapter, but only a tad. I'm rereading/reviewing my chapters, at least some of them, and I wanted to get one more out of the way before I moved on and continued to write some more.

So… yeah. If I was thrown back in time, in a period I barely understand, I'd freak out. But that's just me~

Anyways, this is the start. I may use the same title for different chapters, but that's because I don't want to come up with new chapters, every single chapter. Just think of this as a part 2 or continuation of the chapter 02. Whatever. It doesn't matter too much to me.

I noticed these chapters… could be longer. Some are quite long, but at first I was going to post this on my wattpad account, but then I noticed just how long these chapters are going to be. That I tend to rant and take a while to fully play out a scene, so I decided to post it here, on my account. I can write a lot more and not feel like I'm overloading the internet page too much. But, yeah. Sometimes I have sentences that

Break off

Like this, but other times they're long paragraphs… they may not look long in the format, but they are when I'm typing them out.

And just so you guys know, I picked the picture out of only… three anime girl pics I had saved on my computer. Why? Because when I did, I was on a retreat and I had no internet reception, but I liked this picture. So, I decided to keep it for this story's cover. Also, 'A Twist in Time', I had already started writing a story with this same title and stopped writing it, taking it off of my wattpad account. I think it was another Kuroshitsuji story… but I was thinking of what sort of title I'll use, and I liked that particular title. It's not as lengthy as my usual titles, but I like it.

Personally.

I think this title fits for this particular story. And yes, this story starts in 1881. Before the events of the Black Butler manga. Before Vincent dies. Slowly the other characters will be introduced, but this is mainly a UndertakerXOC story. It'll be about them and their relationship… at least for the beginning. The plot may pick up later, but for now this is where we're at. Why I decided to call it a 'drama' instead of a 'suspense' story or an 'adventure' story. While I love adventure stories, I'm not the best at writing them.

But yeah. I think that's about it. I'm glad if you guys are reading this story, and I hope you're ENJOYING it! Please COMMENT if you have any questions or just want to chat. I'll try my best to chat with you guys. Maybe get some input for this story? Once again, I'm kind of just writing this as a stress reliever. I rarely have time to do any sort of art, these days, and typing is one of the only things I can do to relieve stress.

So, yeah! Enjoy the rest of your week! And maybe I'll post another chapter before the end of the week? Maybe just later…