Author's Notes ::

Sorry for taking longer than usual, minna-san~! Week got a bit hectic... but it's longer! Hoping to get into fast-paced storytelling pretty soon. :D

Chapter Three

Remnants of a sin

The young man simply sat on the study, his chin languidly resting on his knuckles as he pondered upon the pieces of parchment settled in front of him. All twenty-one of them, spread out neatly across the vast expanse of his wooden table, clipped together with the information Sebastian gathered about the victims.

There was no particular commonality that the victims shared. They came from different parts of the country, with no specific gender and came from all walks of life. It was unlikely too that these people were affiliated with the murderer. No organization shared, no common activities to speak of, with differing views of society.

Perhaps, if there was one thing they shared, it was the manner in which their corpses were found—their bodies were all gruesomely dissected, all of them missing a heart and, as Sebastian, Grell and Undertaker said, their souls were already gone. The message left to them by the murderer was identical too, with the number indicated their victim number, and the sigil of an inverted star, which, much to Ciel's ire, highly resembled the contract mark that he and Sebastian shared. He already had Sebastian investigate the sigil, but as luck would have it, an inverted star was a rather common symbol for Satanism in Europe for a few years.

"Young Master, it's time for your afternoon tea," the raven-haired butler spoke as soon as he entered the study room, pushing the two-layered food cart that held the steaming pot of tea as well as an exquisite tea set to match.

Ciel Phantomhive did not pay him any heed and silently continued his ruminations. The butler was used to it, and continued as per routine. He was well aware of how irritated his master was at the failure he had committed the previous night. Little did the earl consider how much his failure exasperated him so. No, that was not to be expected in the first place. Sebastian was a demon of refined skill, and this failure was a horrible stain on his reputation.

"Sebastian. Investigate everyone on last night's ball. Steal the guest list from Viscount Druitt if you have to. Just make sure that every name on that list is thoroughly inspected," the young earl spoke as soon as Sebastian finished pouring tea on his cup. "Do it as expected of a demon, Sebastian, seeing as doing it as a Phantomhive butler still fails you."

"Yes, My Lord." Placing a hand on his chest, the butler took a slight bow and led the food cart outside, ignoring the azure glare in which his master sent him off with. Closing the door behind him, Sebastian heaved an audible sigh, gaze fixed at the end of the long corridor.

That woman… now that he had seen her, it could not have been a mere coincidence. Fragmented soul. Yes, that was what the poor girl was when he opened the capsule, with fragments of her soul embedded in empty vessels. However, instead of pieces forming a whole, they were simply too much for a single body to handle. It felt like the soul was of a single entity's ownership, though the souls embedded were only slightly chipped—almost as if the soul was their own. And though Sebastian already had these thoughts in mind, he never pieced them together like this.

Nine. Those bodies grouped together in nine clusters. There were eight soul vessels in that chamber, nine if the centrepiece was to be included. Yes, it all made sense… to him. Due to these murders that he wasn't able to solve, the Phantomhive's name is slowly descending to ill repute, not to mention that Ciel's efficiency was already being questioned by the Scotland Yard (who, in actuality, knew no better). As a demon and a butler, he should be returning this humiliation about a hundredfold, but he himself was a bit iffy about his position.

Of course he wants it settled, but how can he tangibly prove to everyone that his object of suspicion was more than just a mere assumption?

He wanted to be selfish. He wanted to covet that soul for himself. But now that he had seen it, he cannot shake off the idea that he was partly to blame for this. Wasn't he the one who woke up that mysterious woman? Not that he had issues with greed and guilt, but it was severely marring his aesthetics. That was something he could simply not allow.

Heaving another sigh, the butler disappeared on the corner, spirits low and confused.

They're the last ones on the list, Sebastian Michaelis thought to himself, eyeing the name carefully. They were not, literally, on the last of the list, but he chose to visit them last due to the only distinction he acquired from last night's affair. She matched the picture, too.

Shoving back the papers into the envelope, the butler made his way to the tall steel fences, eyes scanning the majestic rest house. It may not be as massive as the Phantomhive's rest house here in London, but it definitely prided itself on the intricate artistry. A vast cobblestone pathway leads to the house, lined with pebbles and colourful bushes, with a stunning multi-layered fountain settled midway the path. And while the path itself was a spectacle, its sides did not pale in comparison— colourful wildflowers accentuated the well-tended grass, with a lavish landscaping on its far sides. Light entered the brick mansion through its towering windows, though the view was greatly obscured by thick curtains. Several men stood at the gate, which he could only assume as members of the Marquess's well-trained troops. Still, despite the presence of these men, this manor still held a tranquil atmosphere, unlike the uptight one that always enshrouded the Phantomhive estates.

Upon approaching the gates, the men guarding it were accommodating, perhaps due to the thrill of being able to perform their duties. Sebastian was as business-sounding as was expected of him, but it did not present him any conflict with the Faust household's guards, bringing a delighted smirk upon his face—which he maintained until one of them stiffly walked towards the manor to inform his masters about the arrival of an unexpected guest.

A few minutes later, a black butler stepped out of the residence, cordially inviting the butler inside and escorted him through the refined halls, whizzing past the family's collection of landscape paintings from different parts of the world that piqued the butler's interest, until they halted in front of a pair of doors. Really, there was nothing unusual in the house, not quite as expected.

Lifting his hands, the butler rapped on the door thrice and promptly announced their presence. "Marquess Faust, the guest has arrived." Without waiting for a reply, the butler turned the knob with his gloved hand and opened the doors, flooding the butler's crimson eyes with light flooding in front the tall windows. The carpeted room was simple, adorned only with various articles of entertainment and a wall's worth of books. A soft scent of lavenders lingered in the pleasant air, but there was nothing more appetizing than that of the marchioness's soul.

There she is. Truly, his eyes had not failed him. She was stunning as ever, even more impressive than anything else Sebastian had seen around their abode. And though he wanted to extend his thoughts, he needed to accomplish this task before dinnertime, lest he wanted to face his irksome earl's wrath.

"Good afternoon, Marquess and Marchioness Faust. I am Sebastian Michaelis, the butler of the Phantomhive household." Placing a gloved hand at his chest, the butler took the customary bow and faced the couple, lips pressed into a feigned smile. "I sincerely apologize for coming without prior notice. The task is urgent, and it shall take only a few moments of your time."

"A pleasant afternoon, young butler," Halinor Faust spoke in a smooth baritone voice, beaming with affirmation at the guest. "Please, sit down," he said, motioning to the couch opposite from where Halinor and Ceridwen now sat. "What brings you here?" With a slight given towards his direction, the butler took a curtsy and walked out of the room, leaving the couple with their guest.

"I believe you were present in last night's ball arranged by Viscount Druitt," he began, subtly eyeing the couple in front of him so as not to raise suspicion, though his eyes lingered a bit more on Ceridwen's fair visage. Yes, that scent again. His nose picked up the faintest scent of a demon too. Could it be Halinor? No, no, the scent was much too faint to be someone of Halinor's proximity. "To make things brief, I am sent here to ask several questions in behalf of the Queen's Watchdog, to procure more information about the affair from possible acquaintances of Lady Spencer." It seemed like the couple shared the scent of Ceridwen's soul. They were different, definitely, but so subtly that his nose almost failed to distinguish them apart.

"Ah yes. Lady Spencer's misfortune was regrettable indeed," Ceridwen spoke softly, grey gaze lowered on the carpet beneath the table. There was a sad smile etched on her lips, something that spoke of her reluctance in pursuing the subject matter. "It makes me wonder who, in the face of this earth, dares to accomplish such an atrocity." Gently, she shook her head, trying to push the pervasive thoughts away from her mind.

Sebastian was well-aware of this, the fluctuations of emotion and thoughts swirling in her head. He somehow expected to pick up something, some sort of mental or emotional struggle between her thoughts and the words that she mutters. But there was none, each word spoken with heartfelt sincerity, and it almost made him guilty for suspecting her so.

Squeezing her hand tightly, Halinor gave a sympathetic smile before turning back to the butler. "Aside from my wife's deep sentiments in regards to the demise of a fellow lady, what points of interest do the Earl of Phantomhive wish to discover?" His burgundy stare was neutral and the expressions behind it were particularly difficult to discern, even with Sebastian's trained eye.

To the butler, however, he was momentarily dazed by how the gaze seemed to penetrate into his soul and promptly looked away, towards the door that opened as if in cue, revealing the Faust butler's form. "Just simple ones, sir. Firstly, my master wishes to know: has your family been of the Spencers' affiliation in the past few years?" Sebastian tried his best to feign a pleasant smile, but he could not get himself to stare long at Halinor's eyes. Something about it just sent mild convolutions to his demonic innards.

Fingers lifting to his chin, the sound of sloshing tea as the butler poured was accompanied by a slight hmm. "I don't recall any occasion in which the Faust household has come to acquaint, much less to affiliate with the Spencer family," he spoke in a matter-of-factly tone.

"As for the Freys, I am led to believe that the Spencers were once close allies with them. Far in the family tree, a few generations ago, there were several marriages between their family and ours— lessening through the years and not a single one since a century ago. Grandmother often told tales of how our great ancestors were such excellent compeers in life and battle, and it was… a shame to have that relationship severed." Her voice was lethargic, and there was a reminiscent smile upon her lips as her eyes silently watched the gentle swirls of tea around her cup.

Sebastian noted this significant tidbit in his mind as he nodded, moving on to the next question after momentarily probing her expressions. She was not just gentle in countenance, but also in words and demeanour. It was a touching sight, almost like the untainted soul of a newborn. "I hope that the next one isn't too personal. In which parts of England have you been in the recent months?"

"We travel a lot, you see," Halinor spoke with a slight laugh, breaking the silence that had ensued between the three. "Businesses here and there, including the other places around England. I am often tied to the estate due to my duties as a marquess, so Ceridwen travels more. Nonetheless, certain invitations, such as Viscount Druitt's, often draw me out to excursions with my wife. Any particular areas in your list, Mr. Michaelis?" Silently, the man noted how Sebastian gave furtive glances to his wife, not too subtly for the butler's calibre.

"Yes, sir." Flashing a smile to the pair, he gingerly pulled a piece of paper from the envelope and slid it on the table in front of them.

Without making much fuss, Halinor pulled the paper closer to him and inspected the contents of the list. There was a gentle smirk playing at the corners of his well-defined lips, and his mild amusement had not gone unnoticed by the butler's keen senses. By the same token, glances shared by Ceridwen and Sebastian had not slipped Halinor's perception. "I have been to several of these areas, particularly those near the Welsh marches, due mostly to the seasons. Regrettably though, I have been to most of them only in passing. So far, this is the first instance that a grave issue had arisen during my stay. I can always tell you my network, just in case you wish to verify the credibility of this claim." There was a spark in his eyes as he glanced at Sebastian, the hint of a challenge apparent in his smile. "You might want to take a look at this, too," he finally spoke, breaking the tense exchange between him and the butler.

Ceridwen merely flashed an innocuous smile at her husband as she leaned closer to him, merely peering at the piece of paper in his hands. "I frequent these places," she spoke with a slight nod to the butler, "almost as much as I frequent the other parts of England. You see, in order to keep our bookshop business flourishing, I have the constant need to acquaint myself with the people's interests, as well as the coveted titles. There are times, too, that I opt to travel around Europe to see the trend for myself. I apologize that I could not have a clearer response for your inquiry. However, as is my husband's, I have never been on the same place as these atrocities. Recently though, I have been travelling less due to fear of these incidents." Sighing slightly, the woman looked away and settled her gaze on the window, silently sipping from her cup of tea.

Sebastian somberly nodded in understanding, holding his hand out to receive the piece of paper back into his ownership. "I understand, My Lady. It is for the heart of the people that the Earl seeks to resolve this matter quickly," he said with a smile, placing the paper back to its envelope. "The cooperation of the Scotland Yard and the witnesses had been most useful in piecing together the evidence."

"I look forward to seeing the end of this case, mister Michaelis," Ceridwen spoke amiably, almost reaching out to the demon's heart.

Though subtle, it seemed as though the Phantomhive butler was being increasingly distracted by the woman's gestures, moving his poor sentiments into motion. "We will see to it, My Lady."

Fingers slipping to his pocket, Sebastian pulled a folded piece of paper and slid it across the table, allowing its image to linger on their sight. An inverted star, enclosed in a circle. The circle was smoothly drawn, but the same cannot be said of the circle, It was poorly marked, as if it was drawn with a decrepit brush. However, the image was too small to notice the extremely minute details.

"Might you have a clue of organizations utilizing this mark? It is quite a common symbol, so it posed a difficulty for us. We have a few organizations in mind, but keeping track of their movements might be rather unfeasible as it would simply risk too much."

"Nothing in particular, except perhaps the vandals in the less civilized parts of England," the lady spoke in a matter-of-factly tone, gently shaking her head in lack of cognizance. "I have seen them in various prints, yes, so I can perhaps understand your dilemma. However, it is not a topic that particularly interests me, so I chose not to dwell too much on the topic."

"Considering the lack of imagination for the design, I could only surmise that they may be representing their belief, more than just a specific organization," Halinor interjected, still eyeing the design brought before their eyes. "At least, if I were to consider it that way, I could almost see the objective rationale behind their actions. Attempting to probe further, however, might be precarious for our situation."

"I understand," Sebastian spoke, bowing his head slightly as he pulled the sigil back to him. "Might I be so bold to ask you of various titles, My Lady? You mentioned prints."

"Most certainly. However, due to lack of resources, I may not be able to draw a list at this point in time. Would it be favourable to send you the list once it has been accomplished?"

"That would be greatly appreciated," the butler said, beaming at the young lady, almost forgetting that her husband's burgundy gaze silently scrutinized their exchange. "I have already taken too much of your time, Marquess and Marchioness," he finally spoke, eyeing both of them before promptly rising from his seat, a gloved hand placed on his chest. "I am most grateful with your cooperation. I will see to it that this information will not be put in vain."

"I myself am quite eager to see the results of your investigation," As the couple rose from their seats, Halinor spoke amicably, a thought most unnerving to the black butler. "We hope to hear from you soon. Shall we?" Lifting his arm, Halinor Faust gestured to the door.

Bowing slightly, Sebastian followed the man's lead, furtively stealing glances at the young marchioness, noting every feature of her in his mind. Behind that amicable smile, is there still the inkling of darkness that once brewed at the deepest depths of her fragile being? He wondered slightly as he walked past the double doors without starting a small conversation with either of them. The butler opened his mouth to speak, but a lump in his throat caused him to close it almost every time. Sebastian was smooth with his words, but why does it seem like each and every one of them had departed him? His lean shoulders slumped at the depressing thought.

Halinor was kind enough to extend his courtesy until he was off from the estate's vicinity, the couple watching him as he walked away as humanly as he could, in a dignified gait that befits a Phantomhive butler.

"He's quite the interesting man, isn't he?" Halinor spoke as soon as he ascertained that he was out of hearing range, eyes sparkling with interest at the butler.

"Yes, yes he is. But nothing more interesting than you are." Smiling jovially at her husband, Ceridwen wound her arms tighter around her husband and settled her cheeks upon his strong shoulder.

"And the last guests on the list," Sebastian spoke, glancing up at the earl, almost annoyed at the irked expression on his face. "Marquess Halinor Faust and his wife, Marchioness Ceridwen Faust. Currently resides on the Welsh Marches. Family affairs include training the troops, managing a bookshop and tutoring upon request. Travels a lot around the continent and the household appears to defend their area without fail even in their absence. Notable activity within the past four years. No known connection to any of the twenty-one victims. Although…" the butler spoke, lowering the pieces of paper nestled between his gloved hands. "It appears that Lena Spencer's family was tightly affiliated to the Frey household since the early 16th century. Relationship steadily dwindled since the late 17th century, connections completely severed in the last century, and causes of dispute unknown." Finishing his report, the black butler settled the papers atop Ciel's desk, revealing his research about the couple, as well as his notes from acquired statements.

The whole time after dinner had been spent discussing the results of his investigation, and the young earl silently rubbed the bridge of his nose between his fingers. Surely, the butler had done the best he could, even bringing him extra research on top of interviewing all of the people in last night's ball. However, it seemed that the culprits were more elusive than anyone thought. If they were participants to the ball, they surely did a good job in misleading the butler—but Sebastian was not the one to simply be duped by a mere human.

Azure gaze shifting between the reports, he could not help but to think of how they seemed to be running in circles for the past few months.

"I almost forgot to mention as well, young master, that Marchioness Faust has given word that she will be sending a list of references about the sigil that was included in the letters left by the murderer."

Upon seeing the questioning glare the earl donned in his eyes, Sebastian pursued the topic further. "During our conversation, she made mention of prints that may have some information about various symbols. I would assume, though, that those books would be rather difficult to take ahold of," the butler spoke pleasantly, almost with the hint of a smile on his face. He doubted that it would be of much help, but it would definitely save them the time of scouring the whole continent for those organizations.

"Tch. Understood. Just let it be known that it's your responsibility once it comes," Ciel spoke dismissively. Normally, the young earl would have retorted about the things Sebastian does on his own accord, but he needed all the resources he could—simply put, he was not really in the position to complain.

Despite the lack of the proper response, the shadow of a smirk crept upon Sebastian's lips, something left unnoticed by the young earl, whose thoughts were gravely populated by the issues at hand.

"Your orders, young master?" Sebastian finally spoke, dutifully waiting as he stood in front of the vast desk, hands crossed at his back.

Ciel released an exasperated sigh, lowering his gaze at the stack of papers that now lay on the table. More information and no results. Too much effort and wasted time. With all the affairs in the Phantom Company, Ciel could not afford to render all his time on this investigation. "Let it rest for now, Sebastian. I'll think up of something soon." Groaning irritably, the young earl closed his eyes and rubbed his temples gently.

"As you wish, my Lord. I shall return later for bedtime." With a slight curtsy, the butler sauntered towards the door and closed it silently behind him, leaving the young earl alone with his thoughts.

Earlier, Sebastian had thought of a possible connection about the murderer and the mysterious woman he had awoken a few years past. But he had met her and spent a few moments in which she was perfectly conscious and composed. And all throughout their conversation, he kept all his human and demonic senses open, trying to perceive each and every fluctuation, from her façade to the very depths of her tempting soul But now that he had finally met her, he had come to realize one thing—on talk of fragmented souls, he might have been gravely mistaken about Ceridwen Faust.

Who is it, then? Sebastian lost himself upon the thought as he walked upon the corridor, frowning at the tragedy on Viscount Druitt's ball.

Right. By the time it occurred, Lord Aleister Chamber was probably busy exchanging tales with the young marchioness, and he made mention of the fact that Halinor was not there. The demonic scent from earlier, his absence in the ball, the disconcerting gestures… could it possibly be him? I see no possible connections outside of his suspicious behaviour.

Frowning deeper, the butler simply brought himself to the kitchen and did menial tasks to take his mind off the matter.