Black Wife

by FakeName13

Someone is killing the nobles. The police have no leads. The only witness is a bitter, sarcastic maid with first-hand experience in the Underworld, which makes Ciel Phantomhive promptly snap her up...through a demon's contract. In order to fulfill his young Master's orders, Sebastian Michaelis is forced to marry a human woman-worse, a human woman who absolutely hates him.

38. Chapter 38

"Eleanora, do you know where the key is?"

She looked up from pouring the tea.

"Hm?"

Ciel repeated his question:

"Do you know where Sebastian kept the key?"

"What key?"

"The key that...opened the box…with all the other…keys."

"Oh, that key," she nodded, as if she knew what he was talking about. "Why do you need that key?"

Ciel re-explained their plan and Eleanora blanked out again. So much had just happened...First the perverted German had died, then the perverted butler had died, and then that weird shrimpy guy—what's-his-pathetic-face—had died. She wasn't sure if he was perverted or not, but he probably was. She was not in an open-minded mood.

And the young Master had caused a scene in the room where the butler had died, which had been incredibly embarrassing. Eleanora had gotten over her distress by the time the others had arrived and had the presence of mind not to look disturbed; she tried to look as bored as possible, as if butlers were murdered regularly in Phantomhive—"Oh, what a pity; there goes another one"—type of thing. She couldn't disgrace the Phantomhives, especially in such a crucial time.

Yes, calmness was of the essence, but so much had happened that she was still quite unable to wrap her head around anything, so once the young Master had finished explaining and looked at her expectantly, all she really said was,

"Wut?"

"The key, Eleanora," Ciel said, losing his patience. "Where did Sebastian keep the key?"

Sebastian…Keys…Keys…Sebastian…Tea…

"I don't know," she said dully. "Why don't you check his body?"

Ciel rose with a sigh.

"Fine. You're coming with us."

"Me? Why?"

"Because you're his wife and maybe you'll remember something on the way there," he said, giving her a look over his shoulder. "What—you're not squeamish, are you?"

She scoffed.

"Please. As if I've never seen a naked man before."

"…I was talking about you seeing his corpse again."

"Oh." She thought about it. "Well, I don't care about that, either."

They left the room, leaving the guests staring at each other, wondering what on earth had just happened.