The date of the wedding—December 13th—continued to approach and didn't stop until it would actually occur tomorrow. Everyone went to bed early—Eleanora couldn't sleep. She stayed awake and sat by the window, thinking.

Tomorrow she would be married. Permanently. No chance of divorce, no chance of living a life outside of Sebastian, no chance of ever finding someone who would truly love her. She couldn't even imagine that—spending the rest of her life married to a demon incapable of emotion.

Maybe there was still a chance. Maybe she could still somehow get out of it. But how?

She could run away. She could run and keep on running and never look back. Sebastian would find another wife. His family would find another girl to gush over. The Earl of Phantomhive would find another maid. There would always be another.

She knew that running away was cowardly. She had always hated people who tried running away from their problems. But she couldn't find another solution. She couldn't talk to anybody; they would all just say that it would get better and that eventually she would learn to love him, and if she didn't seem convinced, they would send her down the aisle with a gun jammed into her back—just like the first time that she was married.

No other solution. No other solution. It was like she wasn't even in her body anymore; someone else was moving; she could even almost see her body moving on its own accord, as if she was seeing herself through someone else's eyes. Now she was standing up…Now she was getting dressed…Now she was walking towards the door…Now she was in the hallway. No other solution. No other solution.

Now she was walking down the hallways…Now she was passing a room…Now the floorboard squeaked and someone inside the room said sharply,

"Who's there?"

Shit, the butler. She immediately stepped back and hid in a shadowy wall. He didn't seem to come and investigate; she just heard him sigh. And then she heard Rose say,

"Can't sleep?"

"Hm? No. I'm just…thinking."

"About tomorrow?"

"Yes."

"Are you dreading it or anticipating it?"

Her voice was soft, gentle. Eleanora almost couldn't tell that it belonged to a demon. Almost. All demons were professional liars; the whole Hell was built up on professional liars; she hated everyone that had come from it.

Sebastian hesitated a bit before answering.

"…I'm actually not sure," he said. "I mean, I thought that marriage was between two people who madly loved one another…like you and Father. But I and Eleanora…She hates me. I remember clearly how much she hates me."

"But do you hate her?"

He hesitated again.

"…I'm not sure," he repeated, "but I think—I think—that I am not entirely adverse to her."

Eleanora felt as if she was going to die. If there was one thing worse than hearing that somebody hated you, it was hearing that they loved you. Or didn't precisely hate you. It was hard to tell with demons.

"It'll get better, sweetheart," Rose murmured, just like Eleanora predicted that she would. "You'll learn to like her."

"And what if I don't?"

"You've been married for a year; most unholies would have murdered their human spouses by now. That proves that you're destined to be together…Or you could talk to your father about it. I'm sure he'd talk about psychology and unholy brains and all that."

Sebastian sighed.

"Nervous?"

"…A bit."

"That's understandable. I was so nervous at my own wedding, I thought that I was going to drop dead!" Rose laughed. "I even considered running away before the thing actually happened. Just nerves, happens to everyone. But just wait and see: it'll be the best day of your life."

"I thought that one says that to the bride?"

"Everybody does, but it's not really true. The bride is usually too stressed out to fully enjoy her own wedding day. The best days of a woman's life come afterwards, but I think that a man should try to enjoy his wedding to the fullest. You only really get one, you know—especially as you're an unholy."

"…But I don't think that I'm ready for it." He sighed. "How can I know if I'm going to be a good husband or not?"

"You've just proven it to yourself," Rose said. "A good man will be uncertain about whether he can make a girl feel like the queen that she is…A bad one will already think that he's done his job."

Eleanora heard Rose kiss her son.

"Get some sleep," she said. "You've got a big day tomorrow."

"Mm," Sebastian said and then Eleanora heard Rose leave.

She couldn't resist; she peeked behind the corner to look at Sebastian. He was standing by the window, staring up at the stars, just like she had been doing. The only difference between them was that he was smiling.

Not his weird, too-perfect smile; not his arrogant little smirk, but a real, genuine smile, as if he was anxiously waiting for tomorrow but realizing that this moment was just perfect as well.

Eleanora suddenly felt so, so tired. She realized somewhere in the back of her mind that, even if she did somehow make it off the property, there were several miles of absolute nothingness before a real town. She would get caught and then the whole wedding—all that planning—would be destroyed because everyone would know that the bride had tried to escape it.

She didn't want to think anymore; she just wanted to sleep. She turned and went back upstairs and flopped down on the bed, not even bothering to change out of her clothes. This was it. Her last night of true freedom. She wanted to cry, but didn't have any more tears left.

"So this is the end," she thought and then she fell asleep.