Those Gentle Slopes that Lead to Hell

by Severus divides into H

Proud. Unique. Determined. From the second Sebastian sensed Ciel Phantomhive's soul, he realized their contract would be different. He was ready for it. And so he waits. He hungers. He is getting obsessed. He will do anything to devour this soul, and the fragile attachment to the boy that has begun to spread its icy fingers in him will not stop him. He thinks. [SebaCiel].

19. Chapter 19: Sebastian Evolving Part 1

A/N: Sorry for such a long wait! This chapter is from Sebastian's POV, covering chapters 12 and 13. Replies to your lovely comments are at the end))

Chapter Nineteen: Sebastian. Evolving. Part 1

The fact that he couldn't cut into the boy's head and start peeling back the layers of tissue until he found the answers to his questions used to be slightly bothersome. Now, it was becoming aggravating.

His Master was frowning in his sleep again, his features contorting in a pained, anxious grimace. Such an expression never marred his face during the daytime, when he was awake and conscious. No matter what he saw and experienced, he never looked this vulnerable and terrified. What could he possibly be seeing that was making him regress to a pathetic state like this? The memories of the past, of life prior to their contract? The captivity from which Sebastian had saved him?

He didn't understand this. His Master hadn't been held captive long enough to still be reliving those memories on a regular basis. Couldn't he simply stop thinking about it?

Apparently not. Humans were embarrassingly weak at times, unable to do anything without the assistance of someone more powerful. And since Ciel Phantomhive belonged to him, Sebastian would have to be the one to find a cure for him — and reap the additional rewards.

His previous methods hadn't worked. He'd tried logic; he'd tried offering senseless comfort and was mocked for his effort. Now was the time to rely on something physically effective.

No person in London knew more about the drugs than Lau, so Sebastian wrote him a brief letter, explaining his request. That same evening, he received a response along with a bottle of green liquid with a strong herbal smell.

'A little goes a long way,' was all the note said. Cryptic yet clear enough to understand its meaning. Even a small dose would be effective. But there were other aspects to consider, such as the fact that Young Master always did the opposite of what was expected. Sebastian couldn't risk failing again, not in a task that was supposed to be simple. So he added a half of the bottle into the mint tea and watched how the boy drank it, triumph already flowing through him in a thick wave of smugness.

"This doesn't taste like tea," his Master said, his brows furrowing as he peered into the cup. "What is this? Did you brew grass?"

"In some ways, the tea is grass," Sebastian remarked. The boy's eye narrowed suspiciously, as if he wasn't certain whether he was being made fun of. Eventually, he huffed and took another sip, his glance sliding towards the plate of pastries in hungry anticipation. The sight of it was strangely endearing, and Sebastian allowed a hint of a smile to touch his lips.

He liked the idea of constantly coming up with new desserts to please his Master's palate. While he found them revolting personally, watching the genuine delight dance on the boy's face appealed to the side of him that liked to be rightfully appreciated. He'd never had a master who would be so hard to please.

Whatever ingredients Lau's draught had, they seemed to take effect quickly. The pastries weren't finished yet and Young Master was already yawning, his eyelashes fluttering sleepily.

"What time is it?" he muttered.

"Seven o'clock," Sebastian replied. The boy's eye widened in shock, but a moment later, he yawned again and started to stand up.

"Strange. I must be more tired than I thought. I'm going to—" he didn't finish his sentence. His legs buckled under him, and Sebastian was there in a second, catching him before he dropped to the floor.

This was... not what he had imagined. He asked for something calming, not for a sleeping draught. Their schedule would be all ruined now.

With a frown, Sebastian lifted the boy into his arms and walked upstairs, monitoring his breathing. It was slower than usual, but not slow enough to be a cause of concern. Perhaps he'd given him too much, after all. At least the night would pass with no nightmares, and next time, he would measure the dose more carefully.

His Master didn't wake up even as Sebastian changed his clothing and put him to bed. He remained still — almost frighteningly so. Almost as if he was dead.

Sebastian's heart jerked violently all of a sudden. It was so startling that he pressed his fingers to his chest, concerned and surprised at such an extreme reaction. His eyes found the boy, and once again, his breathing tumbled into irregularity.

He couldn't be dead, could he? The sigil signifying their bond was still burning brightly. It couldn't malfunction. But this knowledge didn't succeed in quelling the flare of panic either.

Sebastian removed one of his gloves and pressed his finger against his Master's neck, sliding it up in a semblance of a caress, searching for a thread of pulse.

It was there. Somehow, the physical sensation of life simmering in the boy's body was more comforting than the sound of his heartbeat, so Sebastian let the touch linger, waiting until his own disobedient pulse calmed.

How odd. He was simply trying to do his duty. The situation was supposed to be easy and straightforward, with no disturbing displays from his increasingly confusing human body.

Even if his Master slept with no nightmares today, Sebastian's mood had already darkened too much for him to properly enjoy his victory. Reluctantly, he pulled away and put the glove back on. With the last long look at the boy, he forced himself to leave the room, closing the door behind him firmly.

He wouldn't re-enter it until the morning. It was unnecessary, and the sigil would warn him if something troubling took place.

SCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSC

The sigil was burning. Sebastian stared at it, torn between the impulse to dash into the boy's room and the deep-seated need to stay where he was.

Was it really burning? With how suspiciously his body was acting, he wouldn't be surprised if he was imagining it. Maybe he needed an excuse to come back and check up on the most troublesome contract in his existence.

Another stab of insecurity pierced him, the indecision keeping him swaying on his feet slightly, wondering what to do. But all thoughts disappeared when the unmistakable hiss of his Master reached him.

"Sebastian. Come here. Now."

A moment later, he was upstairs, pushing the door open.

"Young Master?" he called, more urgently than he would have preferred. The boy said nothing. He was still in his bed, the blanket wrapped tight around him, shaking so badly that Sebastian could hear the chattering of his teeth. If it weren't for the death glare directed his way, he was certain that the panic in his chest would interfere with his breathing again.

With a frown, Sebastian crossed the distance and touched the boy's forehead. It was hot — too hot.

"You have a fever," he murmured. His mind spun, trying to build a picture of how this could have happened. His Master could be sickly, yet he spent the last six days in the manor, writing endless letters and reading his increasing amount of correspondence. His rooms were warm enough to protect him from chill.

"You did something!"

The accusation was hoarse but definite, and Sebastian almost took a step back under its force.

Could it really be?.. No. It was just a medical draught. Even if he had added too much of it, fever couldn't be the result, that wasn't how these things were supposed to work. He'd consulted with Lau, too — this was his suggestion, and surely he wouldn't have dared to give him poison?

He tried to say this much, but his Master didn't seem reassured or grateful. If anything, his eyes narrowed as soon as he heard Lau's name, his face acquiring an ominous expression that made Sebastian instantly wary. There weren't many things a sick child could do in this situation. Were there? The boy was creative, but he—

The next moment, a flood of half-digested supper collided with Sebastian's trousers, dripping down and staining his boots. The shock and indignity of it were so astonishing that he froze, unable to wrap his mind around it.

—could still come up with something.

Sebastian had been many things. He'd had people bleed all over him, drool all over him, cry all over him, but he'd never, never been vomited at. This was the audacity even the most stubborn of his contractees would have never risked.

"Clean this up," Young Master commanded. His voice was subdued and creaky, but no less domineering. "And change your clothes. You reek."

The shock faded, freeing space for a sharp sting of anger.

How could someone so small and fragile be so infuriating? Ten seconds ago, Sebastian had been struggling with a hateful sensation of regret. Now all he wanted was to wrap his hands around the boy's throat and choke him until his eyes began to reflect his fear, until he realised how foolish it was to taunt a demon who could put an end to him any moment he wished.

Violence was trembling in him, lingering at his fingertips, but with an effort, Sebastian forced himself to nod. He left, thinking that he'd rather burn this particular outfit than wear it again, no matter how clean it would be; when he returned, he removed the traces of vomit from the carpet. At least it was fresh enough and wouldn't leave permanent damage — cleaning it was easier than he'd thought.

But before he let this thought lift his spirits, his Master was leaning forward again, and this time Sebastian barely stopped himself from snapping at him. However, his fury dissipated as soon as he registered the miserable look on the boy's face, and just like that, the anger re-transformed into worry.

Was it normal for a human to carry this much fool liquid inside them? What did it mean? He'd seen multiple people empty their stomachs before, but somehow what was happening with his Master seemed far more excessive.

"Lau might have some answers," he muttered to himself. But visiting him now meant leaving his lord alone, at the mercy of their incompetent servants. He couldn't do it. The thought alone was disturbing, so Sebastian tried to ignore it, focusing on the more immediate concerns.

Clean everything. Bring the bucket. Measure Young Master's fever and press an icy bandage to his forehead in an attempt to bring the heat down. Small, mechanical things that kept his mind from wandering to dangerous spots Sebastian would prefer to avoid.

He wasn't used to feeling so lost. At the moment, there were too many emotions, too much confusion involved, and he couldn't begin to understand how to start untangling it all.

Whatever was happening to his Master was his fault. It could be pleasing if he had planned for this, but he had been expecting the opposite effects. He wanted to help, not harm for a change, yet everything went terribly wrong and he had no idea how to make it better. He supposed humans called this odd combination of thoughts and feelings guilt.

Then there was concern, a sensation he started to recognise at this stage. He wasn't certain how dangerous his Master's current condition was and how long it was going to last — helplessness was a part of it, too, and this frustrating mix kept Sebastian's body moving in the most unexpected and unexplainable ways. His hands twitched repeatedly, trying to adjust the pillow, straighten the blanket, or brush against the boy's forehead for the twentieth time. His feet fidgeted, as if they had a mind of their own and were eager to fulfil a purpose Sebastian knew nothing about.

Uncertainty came from his inability to make a decision: go to Lau or stay at the manor? Ask one of the servants to look after Young Master or keep him locked here, away from other people who could only aggravate his condition? The rest of emotions were so turbulent and confounding that Sebastian couldn't give a name to them. He wasn't interested in trying to come up with one either.

After Young Master was sick for the fourth time, his resolve solidified. Sitting here doing nothing wasn't working, so it was time to take a risk.

"I believe I should pay a visit to Lau," Sebastian said grimly. Despite his state, his Master managed to scowl at him.

"In the middle of the night?" he asked sceptically.

Quite unexpectedly, a series of expletives in several languages at once began to swirl on the tip of his tongue. Whatever that brew Lau had cooked up was, it poisoned his Master and ruined Sebastian's night of triumph. Any social courtesies humans made up were irrelevant here. Lau would be lucky if he woke up with all his limbs still attached to his body.

Swallowing the curses, Sebastian shrugged.

"He gave me that thing," he remarked neutrally. "He must know its side-effects."

The boy frowned for a moment, but then he nodded, his face contorting in another pained grimace.

"Fine," he breathed out. "You can go. But don't send anyone else to me. I'll be fine."

While this was a scenario he himself found preferable, Sebastian hesitated.

The boy liked repeating the word 'fine.' From his lips, it meant nothing — in fact, it probably meant the opposite. He wasn't fine now and he couldn't know whether he would be fine with Sebastian's absence.

The idea of leaving him with someone else, even for a short period of time, was hateful. The idea of leaving him alone was anxiety-inducing, and Sebastian couldn't readily decide between the two.

"Young Master—" he started.

"Shut up!"

The words were so strong that he stilled automatically. A moment later, annoyance leaked through, but he knew better than to speak, especially when the boy subjected him to a stare so icy, Sebastian could almost feel the bite of its frost.

"You don't have the right to question my orders," his lord hissed. Even with his body failing him in the most humiliating ways, he managed to sound authoritative. Sebastian might have admired it if each word wasn't more barbed than the previous one. "I've had enough of your disobedience. Falling so lowly, taking advice from a human? Betraying personal matters of your Master to outsiders? I'm tempted to break the contract with you right now, and I will if you ever do something like this again."

The threat was idle. It had to be. And yet it still sent his heart skittering, and his blood boiled in a way no real human body could withstand. The world flared sharper in response to something dark and demonic rising within him, and it took Sebastian a significant effort to push it back down.

"If you do that, you won't attain your revenge," he spoke coldly. "And it won't save your life."

"Is that the euphemism for 'I'll kill you'? Please," the boy chuckled, his hands balling into white-knuckled fists. "As if I didn't know that already. But keep abusing my trust like this and it won't matter to me. I don't forgive betrayal, Sebastian. I don't care what motivated you — you had no right to do that. Repeat this mistake and making you pay might come to seem more satisfying to me than fulfilling my initial wish. Do you understand?"

There was a thousand things he wanted to reply with. A thousand more he wanted to do. Violence danced under his skin, a breath away from being released and lunging for the boy — infuriating, enraging boy who kept pushing Sebastian's restraints and only laughed when they snapped.

But this wasn't the most concerning thing. Wanting to kill his masters wasn't a particularly rare experience. The problem was, if he did release this powerful, dark surge of energy, Sebastian didn't know what it would do. The expected and immediate answer would be that it'd kill the boy, grinding him into dust or bleeding him dry or whatever it would prefer at this specific moment.

Yet it could also cling to him until its toxicity melded with the boy's own darkness, turning him into a physical, breathing part of Sebastian. The impulse was there, he could feel it. And it was both frightening and exhilarating.

"I do, Master," he answered belatedly. The words sounded more reverent than he would have liked. "May I take my leave now?"

"You may," the boy said. He held his chin high, continuing to stare him down, and the wave of sudden desire flooded him so rapidly, Sebastian almost swayed under its weight.

The desire for what, he didn't know. Perhaps something specific, such as the boy's soul, which had become the embodiment of everything he ever wanted, the most delicious thing he had a chance of consuming in his entire existence. But perhaps it was more than that.

The allure his Master possessed was utterly addictive — it whispered to him incessantly, enticing him closer, and if Sebastian ever obeyed, he didn't know what it'd lead to. The experience would be dizzying, overpowering, but other than that…

He craved something. The soul, the body, the mind — it could be anything, and he had a feeling that he wouldn't know for sure until he got his hands and his teeth on it. And that was dangerous. For the boy. For their contract. For himself.

Sebastian forcefully reined the eager darkness in. Bowing his head, he walked out of the room, and a moment later, he was already outside, set on reaching his destination within the shortest possible time.

SCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSC

There was a slight resistance meeting him when he tried to access Lau's private quarters. Some energy held him back, trying to fight him off, and this was so fascinating that Sebastian paused, observing the building with an intense interest usually reserved for his Master. His eyes stopped at the series of symbols painted on one of the windows, and an amused smile curled his lips upwards.

Ancient warding against demons. Unexpected and intriguing. Did Lau suspect what he was or was he simply surreptitious? There were other symbols here, too — Sebastian recognised some, but others were too garbled to make sense. While Lau knew the basics, his overall knowledge was obviously lacking. Not surprising, considering that more than a thousand years had passed since the information about warding was lost. It was impressive that a mortal had managed to find even this much.

Ironically, the demon warding was mostly accurate, but it wasn't strong enough to stop him. It would keep the lesser demons out, so it wasn't completely useless, but it took Sebastian a mere wave of his hand to break the resistance and step inside.

Lau was sleeping on the floor, nestled in the mountain of blankets that even Young Master would envy. Ran-Mao took her rest nearby, but she was closer to the door, and Sebastian stopped at her side, studying her even expression.

Peaceful. Not for long.

It'd been a while since he used demonic incantations of this kind. His lips formed the words, and reddish light flared around the girl before her face twisted in a panicked, horrified grimace. She groaned, her body jerking in an attempt to wake her up — to no avail. She had several interesting hours ahead, and that was just a fraction of what she'd get if Lau turned out to be uncooperative.

Smiling, Sebastian approached the man himself and was treated to a calculating, careful gaze levelled at him.

He was awake, then. Good.

"What did you do to her?" Lau asked. His voice was curious, conversational, but there was a note of tension underneath — and oh yes, there was fear. Sebastian had caught glimpses of it from time to time, yet never this explicitly.

It was pleasant to know that Lau didn't differ from other humans all that much, after all. His Master alone had that honour.

"Nothing permanent," he replied, adopting the same tone and shade of voice. "It'll be worse if you don't tell me what potion you gave me."

Lau didn't try to move — he was still gazing at him from his oddly-shaped pillows.

"I gave you what you asked for. The elixir that helps with bad dreams."

"That elixir did nothing of the sort," Sebastian said, and the anger that had been waiting for this moment slithered forwards, heating his blood anew. "All it did was give my Master a fever and reduce him to endless rounds of vomiting. I want to know what was in it and how to remove its effects."

For a while, Lau stayed quiet, but then he tilted his head, watching Sebastian from under his lashes.

"How much did you give him?"

It was a simple question asked in a non-accusatory voice, but Sebastian found himself stiffening.

"Half of the bottle," he said curtly. A ghost of a smile flickered over Lau's lips.

"I told you that a little goes a long way. Half of the bottle is hardly little."

"Are you implying that I put him in this condition?"

The deadliness of his words was enough to extinguish Lau's smile immediately. His body tensed as if preparing to flee, even though he made no movement to try.

"Humans have an intrinsic understanding of dosages," he uttered. "Approximate as it might be. It appears that you do not."

Had it been a test? In any other situation, Sebastian might have admired the effort. It was cunning. It would be smart… if it didn't involve Ciel Phantomhive and didn't put him in danger.

Sebastian stepped closer to Lau, pressing one sharp nail to his neck, a smile of his own blossoming on his face and baring his teeth. Lau blanched. The first glittering drops of sweat formed on his forehead, and Sebastian smiled wider, in a way that he knew was distinctly non-human.

"Are you doubting my humanity?" he purred. "Shall I take offense to that?"

Contrary to his body's visibly growing panic, Lau's voice remained steady.

"I don't have any beliefs about what you are," he said. "Not anymore, since you were able to get inside."

Sebastian hummed, dragging his nail down. It left a trail of blood in its wake, but Lau didn't even flinch.

He was a curious human, no doubts about that. If not for his Master, Sebastian would be interested in arranging a contract with him — his soul was one of the most intriguing meals he'd seen in forever.

Unfortunately, it was still a pale shadow of the actual prize Sebastian was working for. The prize that was currently separated from him, stuck in his bed, vomiting his insides out.

His nail curled into a claw. Sebastian allowed the hell fire to flicker on its tip, burning a small hole through Lau's skin, and the way his breath hitched and his heart hammered formed a stark contrast to his previously-controlled behaviour.

"If you needed a more exact dosage, you should have clarified," Lau said hastily. Panic distorted his words, making them somewhat slurred. Fire and burning, then, that's what scared him. This was a useful piece of information. "The elixir is safe, but it can have side effects, especially when you take too much. Give it time, your lord should be fine by morning. What you need to do is supply him with water because vomiting leads to dehydration… I have a feeling this is another thing that might have escaped your attention."

Sebastian didn't know what his face was doing, but Lau relaxed at the sight, his expression turning bolder again.

"Don't feel bad about not knowing," he added. "After all, you're but a human. Humans make all sorts of mistakes."

This odd person made little sense. Sebastian stepped away from his bed, conjuring a glove on his still-clawed hand.

"For your sake, I hope your estimation is correct," he noted pleasantly. "If my Master isn't better by morning, I'll pay you and the lovely Ran-Mao another visit."

Lau nodded slightly, although his eyes darkened. Satisfied, Sebastian walked towards the door, ignoring the pitiful whimpers of the girl who kept jerking on the floor, fighting the demons she could never defeat. Her weakness evoked nothing but disgust in him, and he would gladly put an end to her right now to silence her for good. But Young Master needed Lau, and Sebastian didn't know enough about his dynamic with Ran-Mao to risk turning him into their enemy. This would have to wait.

Still, something kept him from leaving immediately. A lingering feeling of concern, a worry so human that it had no place swarming in a demon.

"If my Master ever gets hurt because of you again, there will be consequences," Sebastian said slowly. He wasn't certain a warning like this was necessary, but he couldn't walk out without making it clear.

Lau considered him with his inscrutable gaze. Finally, his lips twitched.

"I used to think he was your captive," he murmured. "But now I think I got it wrong. It's the other way around."

Sebastian bristled at the words, but the distressed pull of his sigil had him out of the door in the very next second. His Master was feeling strongly unwell again, and even if the potion wasn't deadly, Sebastian had to be nearby to monitor the situation.

In retrospect, he should have taken the importance of the correct dosage into account. He made potions himself before; he healed his infuriating Master on more than one occasion based purely on his knowledge of human medicine. But calming draughts? Drugs aimed at fighting nightmares? This was a first. None of his previous masters had a problem like this, and even if they had, the idea of looking for something to soothe their fears was laughable. In case one of them made this into an order, Sebastian would have knocked them out to plunge them into nightmares-free darkness and that was it. Simple and effective, and not a direct violation of the order.

Ciel Phantomhive had never asked for his help with bad dreams, and yet Sebastian's body burned with the need to find a solution. Knocking him out would probably work, but it was not worth the consequences. The last thing Sebastian wanted was to see what kind of punishment his Master would come up with in retaliation. It would never be something easy and unimaginative as beating — it would be the worst kind of chores ordered to be done in a human way, public humiliation that never stopped making Sebastian's blood boil, or something similarly bothersome.

Moreover, at this point, he wasn't sure he was capable of raising a hand against his Master in such a physical manner. The last experiences were still seared in his memory, with the boy's broken tooth lying in his room, on the bottom of one of the drawers.

That left draughts, only this time, he wouldn't be getting them from Lau. Maybe he could learn to make some himself... but how to test them? He couldn't risk experimenting on his Master again.

This required more planning.

SCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSC

Now that he knew Young Master wasn't in any immediate danger, Sebastian allowed himself to find some enjoyment in the situation. The misery and embarrassment permeated the room, filling it with an almost irresistible aroma, and he kept leaning close to inhale it right off the boy's skin. It was heated and wet with sweat, but while it had made him anxious before, now he could appreciate its allure.

His Master was always pale. At the moment, a rosy flush was decorating his face, making the smell of his blood dizzying from its proximity. He was shaking from cold no matter how many blankets Sebastian brought for him, and it underlined the ethereal fragility he was temporarily wearing.

Regardless of his complaints, the boy needed him more than usual. Sebastian was the only reliable entity to take care of him, and the smug possessiveness the knowledge had brought flared brighter the more he watched him struggle with the same realisation. It was lovely, and by morning, Sebastian almost regretted seeing the fever begin to fade.

It was admittedly less lovely when he was standing in the boy's office hours later, staring at his impassive face and feeling the force of his vicious stare.

"Evil Noblemen?" he tried to inquire politely. Maybe the mention of the investigation would distract his lord from his anger. "Have you decided on the rat's identity, then?"

…Or maybe not.

"None of your business," Young Master told him. He clearly enjoyed every word. "I'm going to see this case through by myself. I told you, I don't need assistance of someone I can't trust."

Having Baldroy assigned as a chef instead of him had already been an annoyance, but ultimately, his Master would be the one to suffer from it most. It's not like Sebastian partook in human meals, and if the stubborn child wanted to get food poisoning, this was his own fault.

Not that Sebastian would let it happen. He'd have to watch Bard particularly closely.

But being restricted from finishing their investigation? This insult stirred something dark and resentful in his chest.

"With all respect, Master, you won't be able to solve this case by yourself," he said. He had expected retaliation, it would be foolish not to, but this? This was unacceptable. This was far more frustrating than any scenarios he'd envisioned on his way here. "There are too many intricacies of the drug trade. Even the smallest mistake can lead to your death."

As always, he appealed to reason, and as always, the boy rejected this appeal.

"Are you done?" he inquired coldly. He looked calm, peaceful, infallible — like he hadn't been trembling under the pile of blankets just fourteen hours ago. Like he was able to fight against drug lords by himself, with no assistance from Sebastian, the only weapon he had.

There was bravery and then there was stupidity, and he couldn't contain a frustrated hiss. To his incredulity, this seemed to put the boy at ease because he leaned against his chair, an amused smirk playing on his lips.

"Oh, and while we're at it, I want you to give the key from the storehouse to Lau," he added, his voice nauseatingly sweet. "He can keep it until I need it."

Lau. The person who had actually supplied the potion without giving him appropriate instructions. And he was to hold the key, something this entire investigation depended on? Somehow, he was more trustworthy than Sebastian?

The rage that had been slowly boiling somewhere in the pit of his stomach rushed forwards, burning his throat with its fiery bitterness. The images of tearing into the boy with his claws and teeth flashed before his eyes, and their bloody charm fuelled the feeling he couldn't name yet — the willowy thing that was wrapping itself around his bones, tightening its grip every day he spent with his Master.

"Leave," the boy commanded, his voice disdainful, his gaze alight with amusement.

Amusement. How could he be feeling amused when Sebastian's demonic core was pulsating with energy toxic enough to poison him? Did he not sense it? Or had he developed an immunity?

Somehow, Sebastian managed to bow, and when he left, his mind span in thousands directions. Plans, ideas, and possibilities built on top of each other before scattering, freeing space for new insights.

His Master wanted to play and showcase his alleged independence? How could Sebastian not assist with it?

On the other hand, he had failed him. While his intentions were perfectly in line with their contract, the outcome could be considered a violation. Acknowledging it was the last thing he wanted to do, but as a demon belonging to his Master, he did deserve punishment.

Still… Tolerating Baldroy's pitiful attempts at cooking for his Master was one thing, but not participating in the investigation? Surely the boy would change his mind? This was not a simple case, the danger was too real. Perhaps his display would last for today, but not beyond that. He would want Sebastian to participate sooner or later, it was absurd of him to think that he would be able to succeed on his own.

Maybe he needed a little push, though. Some gesture of acknowledgement from Sebastian, some proof that he was willing to make amends. Being a good butler meant admitting he was wrong, and no matter how the boy had managed to infuriate him in less than a day, Sebastian was professional enough to accept the responsibility for his mistake.

How should he do that?

He considered several options as he delivered the letters Young Master had given to him. There were four: enough to keep him occupied, not enough to think of a sufficiently grand gesture to return to his Master's good graces.

Baron Diedrich was the first recipient. He was good-natured and boring, and in a desperate need of a company, judging from his efforts to invite Sebastian inside. Azzurro Vanel turned such a wintery shade of pale at the sight of his letter that Sebastian barely resisted the temptation to peek and see what Young Master had written. Or perhaps the invitation from him was powerful enough to terrify a weak-minded fool like Vanel. If so, then chances were, he was the perpetrator they were looking for.

Pity. He wouldn't last ten minutes in the room with his Master before his cover was blown.

Delivering letter to Lau left a sour taste in his mouth. The only compensation was the fact that Lau disliked his visit even more. He tried to appear nonchalant, but his facial muscles kept twitching, and of course, Ran-Mao was nowhere to be found.

"I trust you slept well," Sebastian drawled. Lau smiled blandly.

"I did. Thank you for asking."

Like Vanel, he opened his letter right away, studying the text attentively. A thoughtful noise he made sent a fresh surge of resentment through Sebastian's veins. He had no idea what his Master had written, but at this moment, he suddenly wished he had read it when he still had a chance. Lau didn't deserve to know more about the boy's plans than Sebastian — none of the idiots he was delivering these letters to did.

"So where is the key?" Lau asked abruptly. "He said you're supposed to give me one."

The displeasure thickened. Leave it to Young Master to continue his quest of being maddening even when he wasn't physically here. What order had he given?

Sebastian's eyes narrowed as his memory obediently pushed the required moment to the forefront of his mind, spilling the clear, malicious voice of his Master there.

'I want you to give the key from the storehouse to Lau. He can keep it until I need it.'

No mention of timing. No specifics. Sebastian could give the key to Lau today or after the investigation was over — when details were lacking, he could fill in the blanks in whatever way he deemed best.

There was nothing to even consider here. He would not share the major piece of evidence that his Master's safety depended on with an outsider.

"The key is mine," he said softly. Lau flinched, probably hearing the growl under the purr. He inclined his head, hiding his face and the expression it was wearing.

"Tell your Master that I'll be there," he uttered. Sebastian turned away, but before he could leave, Lau spoke again. "Butler. I am not your enemy."

Intrigued, Sebastian glanced back. He couldn't read much, considering that Lau's eyes remained firmly shut, but somehow, the claim felt genuine.

"I'm not contending for anything yours," the man continued. "But if you touch what is mine again, we are going to have a problem. I might not pose a real threat to you, but I can be astonishingly unpleasant when pushed. I wouldn't want us to cross that stage."

And again, the warning felt authentic. It was amusing — no matter how curious Lau was for a human, he couldn't compete with him. If Sebastian wanted him gone, he could turn him to dust without moving a finger. But something in how he carried and presented himself was noteworthy, and Sebastian found himself oddly unwilling to resort to such measures.

"Let's not," he agreed. He could go back on his acceptance any time, but for now, it wasn't necessary. Lau could prove to be useful again as long as his games didn't involve Young Master.

The silence they shared was almost comfortable. With a brief nod, Sebastian disappeared from view, not bothering to walk the human way.

SCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSC

Lord Randall's face looked even sourer than Vanel's when Sebastian passed him his letter. His thin lips tightened in irritation as he scanned it, and then he tore it to pieces with a glower.

"So now I have to visit a party this brat throws?" he groused. "He has one job to do. Why does he need my presence there?"

Sometimes Sebastian found Randall's curtness amusing. Right now, it made him bristle. After all, it wouldn't do for a good butler to stay silent when his Master was being insulted.

"Weren't you the one to ask Earl Phantomhive for a favour?" he wondered with an easy smile. "Again."

Randall's furious gaze snapped to him.

"I pay him well for his assistance," he growled. "If that little monster had a drop of honour in his blood, he wouldn't have demanded anything. This is supposed to be his job."

"Not exactly." Sebastian widened his smile a little, letting the tips of his fangs show. Randall blinked. Then blinked again. Then, probably realising he'd been staring, he jerked his head up with a startled frown.

"Not exactly?" he repeated. Sebastian shrugged.

"I believe the whole point is that it's your job and you cannot cope with it," he drawled. "My Master was generous enough to invest his time into your affairs. The least you can do is be more appreciative of his effort."

A bark of laughter was his response.

"He's not here, you know?" Randall uttered. "You don't have to pretend to be loyal. You seem capable, so why do you stay in the employment of someone like—"

"Choose your words carefully," Sebastian warned, all the pretence at civility melting from his tone. Randall had been overstepping his boundaries for a while now, ever since he started muttering threats towards his Master under his breath. They meant nothing, but Sebastian was less and less willing to tolerate his attitude, particularly now, when he wasn't in the mood to deal with pests.

"I have millions of opportunities for employment," he added mildly. "So rest assured that I'm right where I want to be. There is no other place I'd rather be at."

Randall stared at him with such incredulity, as if Sebastian was speaking a language he didn't understand. He began to say something when a shadow of understanding flashed across his face. His eyes widened, his mouth hanging open.

"You!.." he spluttered. "That is simply…" The disbelief faded, giving way to pity and disgust. "You poor sod," Randall said and shook his head, the same strange look on his face. "He'll chew you up and spit you out until nothing is left. He's the furthest thing from a human in this world. You must be blind not to see it. Unless it is his toxic nature that draws you in."

Sebastian stared, uncertain about the direction this conversation had taken. Was Randall talking about him or his Master? His words didn't make sense.

His bewilderment must have shown on his face because Randall huffed and shook his head again, looking at him like at the embodiment of everything disappointing he encountered in his life. Without another word, he slammed the door shut, and Sebastian remained standing, trying to find any meaning in what he had just heard.

Sometimes too many humans were being too confusing at the same time. There was no time for it, not today. He had an annoyed Master to appease.

SCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSC

The idea came later that day, as he was watching Young Master attempt to drink the slops Baldroy called tea with an unperturbed expression. He was a very good actor, but Sebastian had spent too much time in his company to buy this performance.

Ciel Phantomhive had the most exquisite and demanding tastes out of all the masters he had served. If Sebastian had presented him with the tea half this bad, he would have the cup thrown into his face in an instant. The boy had the highest appreciation for tea, and he required an equally compelling presentation of it. Despite his polite smile, he must be cursing Baldroy and his ability to ruin even the most basic meals.

"Stop spying on me."

Sebastian froze, caught off guard. He was hidden in the shadows, no one was supposed to see him. He also hadn't seen his Master's lips move, so maybe he was imagining things?

But there was a frustrated sigh and another comment: "Don't you have guests to poison? Go to the kitchen."

Now that he was expecting it, he could see the slightest of twitches. His Master was speaking so quietly that Madam Red had no chance of hearing him despite sharing the same table.

Rolling his eyes, Sebastian obeyed, but the idea was already forming in his head.

His Master loved tea. He had ordered him to find the Haviland tea set in colours that Sebastian was certain didn't exist. He'd tried enough cities and countries to be ready to admit his defeat. But perhaps he could stop thinking like a human and approach this task as a demon.

A little intimidation, several demonic tricks, and the tea set would be ready by tomorrow. This would be enough to put a stop to the endless caustic remarks his lord was showering him with.

It seemed like he would have to take another unplanned trip tonight.

SCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSC

The first step comprised travelling to France. The second step lied in hunting down the essential employees, taking them from their beds, and putting them together in one building.

"I need an emergency tea set," Sebastian told them, keeping his voice light. "You could use the half-made models, remake them, or build them from scratch — this is irrelevant to me. The only requirement is that the set has to be in blue, gold, and white colours. And of course, it has to correspond to the standards Haviland maintains. You have until early morning to complete this task."

Six pairs of terrified eyes stared at him in silent horror. It didn't look like any of these people comprehended his request, and Sebastian knew for certain that his French wasn't the problem here. He supressed a sigh, straightening and letting the first curls of darkness emanate from him. After spending so much time by his Master's side and in the company of people like Lau and Undertaker, he was used to more challenging opponents. These people were so pitiful that he wouldn't have eaten them even if he was starving.

At least they made good cups.

"If we do this, will you let us go home?" a dark-haired woman whispered. Her voice was trembling, but the look in her eyes was almost firm.

Blue. Such a beautiful colour on his Master, and such an unpleasant shade on anyone else. Perhaps he could take her eyes and bring them to the manor — it could serve as an additional gift. What would Ciel Phantomhive say to this? Would he find this offering revolting? Or would he blink in surprise before smiling his crooked, amused smile, like he found it darkly entertaining?

"If the set you complete meets the expectations of my Master, I won't hold you here," he said belatedly. "You have my word."

And of course these insects couldn't know it, but his word was worth something. This pleased some of his fellow demons and infuriated the others.

"Get to work," Sebastian added, glancing at his watch. Twenty minutes to midnight in England. He could stay here until the morning, but he didn't feel comfortable leaving his Master defenceless for this long.

Their servants could take care of any unwelcome visitors — they were appallingly incompetent in existing as functional human beings but quite capable of killing multiple people. Still, the worry persisted. As hours began to pass, it stirred and grew, pressing against his skin from inside until Sebastian felt restless. He stood up, making several aimless steps towards the window.

The boy was fine. He was almost definitely fine — the seal remained silent and calm. But the irrational longing was gaining strength rapidly, and the more he spent here, the more his stomach twisted.

He wanted to see his Master. He needed it. Immediately.

"Do you have everything you need?" Sebastian asked sharply. Someone whimpered in response, but the same blue-eyed woman cleared her throat hesitantly.

"We do," she said. "After Morris does his part, we'll need several more hours for the paint to start drying. If you could speed up this process, then…"

"It will be done," Sebastian interrupted her. "Anything else?"

"If you can do so much, why didn't you just conjure this tea set by yourself?" a tall man snapped. "Why make us work on it?"

The moment Sebastian's gaze stopped at him, he paled and backed away, raising his hands and managing to make himself look even more helpless.

"Whatever I produce magically doesn't have the quality the original would," Sebastian said after a pause. The man exhaled, probably relieved that his outburst had gone unpunished. As if Sebastian cared enough about such trivial things to bother. "A tea set mimicked by me would shatter at the pressure the real one would be able to withstand. It wouldn't look the same under the light and its texture would be rougher than acceptable."

Four people stared at him blankly, like they weren't sure why he was lecturing him. The pale man seemed to deeply regret having asked his question. Only the woman with her unworthy blue eyes risked shrugging a little.

"Is your Master the demanding sort?" she wondered. "Would he truly notice all these inaccuracies?"

Her attempts to engage with him and establish herself as an ally were as transparent as they were tedious. Taking her eyes still seemed like a sensible payment for the offense she was inadvertently causing by wearing this colour, but since she'd broached the subject he was truly interested in…

"My Master would take one look at the conjured set and smash it to pieces," Sebastian replied. His voice was so warm that he paused, briefly surprised at himself. "If there was a hundred of similarities and one single flaw, he would know it instantly," he added. He had wanted it to sound indifferent, but instead, his words were coated in smugness. What sense did it make in this context?

The woman must have thought the same. She blinked, nodded politely, and focused on her work again.

His human body was malfunctioning on an increasingly frequent basis. Why was it happening now, he had no idea. He'd have to look into it when he had more time.

"I need to leave," Sebastian announced, giving each person a slow, intense look. "I will return in the morning, and if you do everything correctly, I will release you and never contact you again. If something is wrong or even one of you is not here… Let's just say, you won't enjoy the consequences. I know where you live, you know what I can do. Draw your own conclusions."

Only silence answered him. Pleased with himself, Sebastian allowed the darkness to unfold, blurring with it and directing it out of this building, out of Paris, out of France. Towards his Master.

SCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSC

By the time he arrived, it was still dark outside. The manor looked peaceful, and some tension bled out of him, finally letting him relax.

Ciel Phantomhive's heartbeat was the loudest sound that broke through the night, and Sebastian followed it, not bothering to settle in his human form completely. Based on the rhythm of his breathing, the boy was sleeping, so how he looked didn't matter.

Sebastian stepped into the corridor… and froze.

Someone was standing next to the door leading to his Master's bedroom. A tall, dark figure with the distinctly non-human air around it.

In a blink, he was there, blocking the door and baring his teeth in a snarl. His heart pounded heavily, the shock chasing it, pushed by a clammy sensation of fear.

How did this happen? How could anyone have trespassed unnoticed by Bard or Mey-Rin? Most vitally, how could he have not sensed anything as soon as he entered the house? What would have happened if he had stayed in France, if he had arrived ten minutes later?

The panic flared even brighter. It carved a hole right in his gut, filling it with foreign, detestable helplessness.

He was a demon, a Prince of Hell capable of commanding legions of lesser infernal creatures. And yet despite the extent of his power, he seemed unable to protect his current and most important Master as completely as he was expected to. Danger constantly slipped inside as if the boy willingly drew it in. He was on time today, but what about tomorrow? What about a week from now? What did he have to do to make certain that no one and nothing even thought of approaching this specific human soul?

"Oh! Hello there!" an intruder exclaimed. Sebastian's lips curled further, his claws blazing with energy that only Hell could provide. He was about to lunge, but then he looked into the eyes of this uninvited threat and froze once more.

These chartreuse eyes. These glasses.

A Grim Reaper. A Grim Reaper in their manor. This was not at all what he was envisioning. Where did he come from? Sebastian had never seen one in the human world. In Hell, occasionally, but every demon knew how possessive and intolerant these beings were, so Sebastian preferred to avoid them. To see one here, in such proximity…

Then the second part of his realisation registered, and he tensed, a new kind of growl tearing from his throat.

A Grim Reaper in their manor. About to enter his Master's bedroom. This could mean only one thing.

"His time has not come yet," Sebastian hissed, the vehemence in his voice hard enough to make even demons falter. Whatever other threat was lurking here, planning on killing Ciel Phantomhive, it would be dealt with swiftly. "Leave to wherever you've arrived from because you won't be getting his soul. Not now and not ever."

The reaper's cheeks went pink and he giggled, brushing his nail against his lips.

"What an intense butler you are!" he uttered. "I love that in men. Don't worry, I have no need for that boy's soul. I just wanted to take a look. And what a look it is," the reaper's ethereal stare lingered on him, and if Sebastian wasn't as taken aback, he would have bristled.

"Why would a reaper want to look at a human boy?" he asked warily. He didn't loosen his stance — he had no idea what this creature was playing at, but even in case what he was saying was true, it didn't mean Sebastian would just let him in. No one with the power to take his Master away would be looking at him. His soul bore Sebastian's mark, and Sebastian wouldn't risk his claim on it even if he had to fight a reaper.

In some ways, it could be interesting. He was fairly confident he could win, but the fight would likely be refreshing and entertaining.

"Why, he's the dear nephew of my Mistress!" the reaper gestured somewhere enthusiastically. "I'm her loyal servant, Grell Sutcliff. At your service!"

"Must you yell? My Master is sleeping," Sebastian said automatically even as his mind whirled, trying to put the pieces together.

This was Madam Red's servant? A reaper? This made no sense. Since when were the reapers employed by humans? And since when did Madam Red know anything about their world?

"Oh, who cares about the brat," Grell waved his hand, still studying him with sharp interest. "I have to say, you look dashing in this suit of yours. Are you the butler I've been hearing so much about?"

"I am the butler of the Phantomhives," Sebastian said laconically. The reaper could be lying, but he didn't see what the point would be. If he was truly working for Madam Red, then he wasn't the one to look out for — at least not currently.

"I'm here at my Mistress' orders. I should have come sooner, but there were so many things to do. A lady should never be in haste, yes?" Grell grinned, his unnatural teeth peeking out. "Not if she wants to look good."

"I have no idea what you are talking about," Sebastian uttered blankly. Were all reapers this unhinged? There was something very wrong with this one, and while he might have felt compelled to find out more in other circumstances, he couldn't do it now. He wouldn't move from this door until even the potential of danger was eliminated.

Grell perked up, turning his head in the direction of some sound. Sebastian had been so focused on his immediate surroundings that he didn't hear anything.

"I must go now," Grell told him. "Regrettably, the morning sun will separate us from who we are, but it won't be for long. We'll meet again soon, butler!"

With a wink, the reaper was gone. Sebastian remained standing for some time, listening to any sounds, but there was nothing. Just his Master's steady breathing from behind the door.

He would have to return to France soon for the tea set, but he couldn't leave the boy alone. He also couldn't take him on this trip — it would ruin the surprise, and his Master was unlikely to be happy from being woken up and taken across the country.

They had servants, though… Maybe they wouldn't be a good match for the reaper, but they were strong enough to keep the boy safe until Sebastian's return.

And he would return. The slightest twitch of the seal and he would be back, distance be damned. He was one hell of a butler, after all.

The image of the scowl his Master wore whenever he heard this little jest made Sebastian smile.

He was still smiling when he left the manor, leaving sleepy Bard, Finnie, and Mey-Rin guarding the door.

SCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSC

The set looked beautiful and regal, and it was perfectly suitable for his Master. Sebastian nodded in approval as he collected it, ignoring the anxious gazes following his every movement, allowing himself a genuine smile.

The boy had never expected him to actually deliver this set. It was a challenge that Sebastian was supposed to fail. Reaffirming his powers and his creativity was a good way of atoning for his unfortunate mistake, and no matter how annoyed his Master was, even he would have to appreciate it.

"You can leave now," Sebastian said to the workers, but no one moved. Even the woman with offensive eyes was rooted to a spot, watching him as if she thought he was about to take his words back and attack them all.

"Or you can stay," he added, carefully tucking the set under his coat and adding several layers of protection to it. "I don't really care. I'm going to deliver your work to my Master. Maybe he will want to pay you a visit to express his gratitude in person soon."

This, at least, seemed to breathe the awareness back into the woman.

"This would be an honour," she said in a quivering voice, "but we don't require gratitude. Your Master's satisfaction is already a sufficient reward."

"Yes," one of the men intervened. "We've already met you, and to be perfectly honest, we aren't that set on meeting the Devil."

"The Devil?" Sebastian raised his eyebrow. To his surprise, it was the woman who answered — unlike him, she seemed to understand what her colleague was implying.

"At first we thought you were the Devil," she murmured carefully. "But then you mentioned having a Master, and if so, he must rank higher than you. So we decided—"

"He doesn't rank higher than me," Sebastian interrupted her, annoyed. Sometimes human minds worked in the oddest ways. "Why would the Devil be interested in a Haviland tea set?"

"Well, someone is?" the woman looked even more unsure now. "And if this someone sent you to retrieve it, this cannot be a normal person. Can it? Not that you're not normal! Or a person. I just meant—"

"I'm afraid I've reached my limits of suffering through pointless conversations," Sebastian said flatly. Every minute wasted here was a minute spent away from the manor, where his Master was spending a night under one roof with the reaper. "Enjoy your day."

Without waiting for another senseless response, he was gone. He hoped he would reach his destination before dawn.

He did. His Master was still sleeping when he arrived, the house was still standing, and the servants managed not to ruin anything in their vicinity.

Now he just had to wait for a right moment to present the set.

SCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSC

It arrived at the end of breakfast, after Madam Red and Lau departed to wreak chaos together. The reaper was nowhere to be found, and his Master was struggling with the cup of the foulest smelling liquid Sebastian had seen in years. There couldn't be a better opening, and a boy this demanding wouldn't be able to resist the chance to finally drink something worthy of his palate.

"Master," Sebastian purred. He was standing far behind, in a place where he couldn't be seen, but the boy didn't even flinch, like he was expecting him. Was he becoming predictable?

"Is there something you need?" his Master inquired coldly. Still annoyed, then. Maybe his gift would finally lift his spirits. Sebastian had already put the set on the tray, each tiny cup on its rightful place. Now he demonstrated it, and something resembling pride pushed at him, forcing the corners of his lips to curl up.

Young Master stared. The first expression on his face was the undisguised surprise, and Sebastian absorbed it while he could. The next moment, it was gone, replaced by a familiar mask of calmness.

"You've found a Haviland set," the boy commented. Then he fell silent, examining it closely. Something flashed in his eye, an emotion Sebastian had no hope of reading.

"Good," he said grudgingly, like it pained him to admit it. Sebastian grinned openly this time, pleasure washing over him in a way that was curiously new. He'd never think that completing an order could feel this satisfying.

"Would you like some tea in it?" he asked. Surely his gift was enough to melt some of the hostility and the boy wouldn't deny a real drink this time?

His lord hesitated. Whatever inner struggle he was having, it passed quickly, and so he nodded.

"Fine," he agreed regally. "But be quick. I still have things to do."

Bowing, Sebastian left the room with the tray, the same odd feeling of joy burning brighter in his chest.

His trip to France wasn't wasted. Young Master accepted the set and agreed to the tea… In a day, maybe less, they would be able to leave the unfortunate incident with poisoning behind and continue with their investigation.

"Do you need some help?" a voice asked. Sebastian half-turned, automatically moving the cups away.

The reaper. A problem that he would have to monitor closely, no matter how useless and harmless he might appear to be.

"No, thank you," he replied peacefully. "I'm quite capable of preparing tea for my Master."

Grell smirked, reclining against the table. The abrupt movement made Bard's disaster of a dish crash down, and Grell jumped, instantly transforming into an earnest, clumsy fool.

"I'm so sorry!" he blurted out. "I didn't mean to ruin your Master's dinner!"

His first impression had been right. Grell the reaper was insane.

"This is not my Master's dinner, so you are welcome to ruin it," Sebastian said. Then he proceeded to ignore the idiot, focusing on making the most delicious tea he could think of mixing right now.

Grell and Madam Red were a potential complication. He'd have to watch both closely and find the underlying cause of what was happening. But surprisingly, he couldn't make it a priority in his mind. Mending the rift between him and his Master, as well as their investigation, somehow felt more important.

So doing that first. Dealing with the reaper next. Who cared if this order wasn't rational? He was a demon, and that meant he could do what he wished without bothering himself with irrelevant details.

SCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSC

Young Master's meeting with the representatives of the underworld took some time. Sebastian caught some bits of it while working on a pretzel with three different kinds of chocolate, but none of them was meaningful. He would have heard more if Baldroy and Finnian weren't muffling it with their constant arguments.

No matter. As soon as the meeting was over, he would go upstairs and feed this newest creation to his Master. Then he would inquire about his observations and suspicions, and with luck, their case would be solved by tomorrow.

In theory, this was an ideal plan. In practise, it turned out to be anything but.

His Master accepted the tea and the dessert. He even gave him his first real smile in days — the kind that gave his face a unique ethereal glow Sebastian couldn't look away from. But after that, everything went downhill, and whatever remnants of regret Sebastian had were gulped down by a black surge of fury.

"It doesn't concern you. I've already solved the riddle and set the trap without your input."

He was wrong. The boy was too spiteful to let him back into the investigation despite the fact that without him, he would never be able to complete it properly.

Anger was scorching every line in his body. Sebastian had to close his eyes and stand still to calm the fire roaring in his ears.

"The most important part of the task is already done by me alone."

Except the most important part was not simply establishing the identity of the rat. It was catching him. And even though Ciel Phantomhive could eviscerate people with the mere fact of his presence, he was incapable of applying brutal force when needed. He didn't have any. Without Sebastian, he would be killed by the rat in less than two seconds.

"Those who are loyal to me will protect me physically."

This was undoubtedly a reference to Bard, Finnie, and Mey-Rin. The boy thought that when the intruder broke into the house with the intention to harm him, their servants would be observant enough to put a stop to it and help him to detain any attackers.

Ludicrous. Those servants were for protecting property, not his Master. They would never be able to hear anyone's entrance, especially if it happened during daytime, and they wouldn't be fast or smart enough to know what to do.

Rage was still attempting to spiral up, and this time, it took more effort to corral it.

The boy wanted to try his luck by relying on anyone but Sebastian? Fine. Let him. Sebastian would gladly count the seconds it took for him to change his mind and cry for help after one of the underworlders ambushed him.

Besides, they needed the key to the storehouse. Unbeknownst to Young Master, Lau didn't have it — Sebastian held it in his possession instead. It would make things interesting and his participation inevitable.

This was the game his lord wouldn't win.

SCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSC

It happened the next day, shortly after breakfast. Lau, Madam Red, and Grell kept distracting Young Master with their nonsense; the servants were too busy chasing real rats, and none of them heard how one of the windows in the manor shattered.

Sebastian turned in that direction slightly, trying to establish from which room it had come from. Another sound, a quieter one — the intruder stepped inside.

His Master's office. A good choice for the unexpected attack.

Sebastian was so focused on listening to the patterns of footsteps that the opening of the door startled him. He jerked, his eyes stopping at the boy who stood at the threshold with a distant look in his eyes. He was paler than normal, his expression so tense and miserable that something twitched in Sebastian's chest.

"Young Master?" he called cautiously. There was no reaction, like his presence didn't even register, like he wasn't here at all, and the flicker of concern vanished, replaced by a stream of cool, controlled anger.

Whatever upset his Master during his conversation with Madam Red and Lau, it wasn't his business. He wasn't the one to have started this game, so all he was going to do was to observe and wait for the boy to admit his defeat. Maybe this would teach him not to take Sebastian's offer of assistance for granted.

In the tense minute that followed, there was no change. His Master hadn't reached his office yet, and so Sebastian followed him, his curiosity and annoyance warring for dominance.

The boy was standing in the middle of the hallway, pressing his delicate fingers to his head. A headache? Unfortunate, considering what he was about to walk into. Or was he thinking of re-joining Madam Red? Sebastian was fairly certain that he held no overly affectionate feelings for her, but he did care about propriety. It was possible that he was having second thoughts about leaving so abruptly, barely five minutes after they gathered in the room.

Then Sebastian would have to take matters in his own hands. Again.

"Young Master," he said gently. The boy faced him quickly, his surprised look only tightening the dark coil of vengefulness in Sebastian's chest.

So he truly hadn't noticed his presence. Fine. They'd see what he thought of it in several minutes, after he realised the extent of his helplessness.

"I have prepared an apple and raisin deep pie for you," Sebastian said deferentially. It was a perfect combination for this day: apple as a symbol of fall; raisin as representing the loss of vitality. Ciel Phantomhive wanted to pretend that he was untouchable, forgetting that it was Sebastian who made him so. For this, he would see the boy thrown off his throne, his confidence dried out and withered.

Temporarily. Just until he learned that without Sebastian, he was the opposite of a formidable opponent for anyone strong enough to snap his neck.

"It has almost finished baking, so please stay with the other guests," Sebastian added with a small, encouraging smile.

He knew his Master sufficiently well to predict his reaction. Even if he had been entertaining the thoughts of returning to the room with Madam Red in it, he would change his mind now. He preferred to eat in peace, and he was too possessive to share his dessert with anyone unless there was no way around it.

The boy frowned, studying him with suspicion.

"Bring it to my office," he commanded finally, turning his back on him. "I've had enough socialising."

Sebastian stared as he began to walk towards the trap door, the energy in him hissing in excited anticipation.

"As you wish," he said. He was a good butler who followed the orders from his Master. If his Master believed himself capable of handling criminals, who was he to convince him otherwise?

There was a loud shout, and Sebastian's pulse quickened before slowing down again.

His Master didn't shout like this. No, this was a joint yell of Bard, Mey-Rin, and Finnie, who were still chasing rats and who were now running in the direction of the boy's office. They were idiots, but even they would hear that something was going on in such proximity to the door. They would interfere, proving his Master right, and this — this wasn't something Sebastian was willing to tolerate.

Lightning fast, he dashed forwards and then backwards again, dropping the dazzled rats into Tanaka's catching net.

"Stop wasting your time and go back to your work," he said, his voice freezing any arguments these morons were about to come up with. With heartbroken looks and reluctant murmurs, they trailed away. Soon, they disappeared from the corridor entirely, and a dark, pleased smile touched Sebastian's lips.

Perfectly on time.

There was a loud sound, a grunt, and an unfamiliar voice growling, "Be quiet, you brat. Where is the key?"

Tension shot up in his body like a spring, flooding him with waves of breathless adrenaline before he could put a stop to this. Sebastian gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stay where he was. Seconds trickled by, filled with nothing but silence that was rapidly becoming oppressive.

"Where is the key?" the man asked again, more urgently this time. For a moment, there was nothing again, but then Young Master's derisive laughter broke the pause. It was cold and arrogant, and if it were directed at him, Sebastian knew what he'd want to do.

The intruder apparently felt the same impulse. An unmistakable sound of a blow followed, and Sebastian found himself near the door before he understood that his body had moved without his permission. Again.

This was disturbing. The instinct to protect the boy was too powerful — it seemed engrained in his psyche, and it wasn't something demons were supposed to develop.

There was no laughter after this, no sounds at all, at least not from his Master. The seal burned steadily, but with an effort, Sebastian ignored it.

He wasn't breaking their contract, not in the technical sense of this phrase. His Master had told him he would handle everything on his own and that he didn't need his help, so Sebastian had every demonic right to do nothing until his orders changed… or until he felt inclined to interfere.

Which he wouldn't do. Because no matter how loudly his instincts were screeching, pushing him to storm into the room and tear the intruder apart, winning this game was more important.

He wasn't the one to start it, and he wouldn't be the one to end it. Everything was in his Master's hands now.

Slowly, Sebastian forced himself to turn away from the office. His feet felt heavy, as if they, too, were rebelling against the idea of leaving, so he simply shifted into his real form and removed himself from the corridor. There, he regained his shape and continued his stiff walk to the kitchen.

He would finish making the pie. He would come to his Master's office like nothing had happened and he would observe the damage as a real clueless servant might. He would not act on his powers until he heard his name on the boy's lips.

The more he repeated this, the more believable it would seem.

SCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSC

Baking a pie had never felt more excruciating.

Sebastian was standing in the kitchen, his eyes fixed on a wall as seconds and minutes crawled by. One more minute for a pie; then ten minutes to let it cool a little. In three minutes, he would start making tea because this was what every good butler would do. There could be no pie without a drink to soften the process of digestion.

No one would be eating this pie and drinking this tea, but Sebastian carefully shut these thoughts down. Right now, he was a human, not a demon. A mere human butler who didn't know that his Master was gone, being taken farther away from the manor with each passing moment, threatened or beaten or who knew what, and all because of…

No. Stop.

Sebastian took the pie from the oven and started decorating it. Once it was done, he focused on making the tea, his movements gradual and mechanical, his head artificially empty. The thoughts and feelings were brewing somewhere beneath the surface — they stormed and raged, but his enforced calmness didn't let them break through.

The clock struck twelve, and Sebastian smiled thinly.

"A good time for lunch," he murmured. "I'm sure Young Master will enjoy his pie."

His seal flared abruptly, but not with the power of order. Whatever was happening, the boy was deeply distressed, and Sebastian stared at the tea set blankly, his grip tightening on one of the cups. Miraculously, he managed to think of nothing, and soon enough, the burning stopped — only to flare again, this time echoing a physical pain.

Someone was hurting his lord right now. Hurting him enough for the seal to react like this. And yet no orders followed — if anything, the pull between them became fainter, as if his Master didn't want to be found. Sebastian would have to try harder if he wanted to locate him now.

This was absurd. It made no sense — who in their right mind would tolerate the pain and still refuse to call for salvation?

The burning turned brighter. The cup cracked, and Sebastian looked down, surprised to see that his aggravated energy had burned through the gloves and was now incinerating the porcelain.

His demon side didn't want to stay chained. It was crawling from every outlet it could find, furious and resentful, and bringing it down took Sebastian several minutes.

The sensation stopped, and he suddenly remembered that he hadn't been breathing for a while now. So much for being human.

With an effort, he finished his presentation, grabbed the tray and carried it upstairs. Each step sent a thrumming sound through his head, a sound that crashed against the nonchalant barriers he had built there, and it took every ounce of energy to keep them up.

The office was trashed even more than he had expected. Surprise and dismay almost overtook his features, but Sebastian pushed them down, observing the scene in front of him dispassionately.

"What a predicament," he said flatly, his voice unrecognisable even to himself. "The tea will all go to waste now."

The seal burned again. Sebastian pursed his lips, swallowing the growl that was about to break free. The tray suddenly felt unbearably heavy, and before he could stop himself, he knocked the cups and the teapot off it violently. They flew across the entire room and smashed against the wall, and Sebastian stared blankly as the buzzing in his head got louder.

He didn't know how long he spent standing like this. He barely registered how he turned and left the office. Walking was even more difficult now — each human step took an excruciating effort. He was moving robotically, and if someone saw him, they would likely realise that something was amiss right away.

"I wonder where the Young Master was taken," Sebastian spoke to himself. This was what a normal butler would ask, wasn't it? They would attempt to locate the boy by relying on their dull human senses and wilted intelligence. Maybe Sebastian could do the same.

In fact, it seemed to be the most optimal choice because the connection between him and Ciel Phantomhive was becoming dimmer by the minute. He hadn't been wrong before, his infuriating Master had no intention of calling for him. On the contrary, he was shutting their bond down, and even if Sebastian were to shed his human skin, it would take some time before he found him. Time that he might not have.

One day years ago, his Master had summoned him to make a wish. But if this older, more twisted boy was given the same chance? Sebastian doubted he would make the same decision. He would suffer in prideful silence; he would die out of pride. Maybe that's what he was doing at this very moment — losing limbs, blood, dignity, approaching the brink of death, and still refusing to call for him.

The thought was staggering enough to make Sebastian stop. His human lungs contracted, suddenly desperate for air, and a raw sense of dread unfolded somewhere in his stomach. He didn't have time to process it because Mey-Rin's shriek exploded the silence around him, bringing him back to reality. Blinking, he glanced at her and saw a letter in her hands.

"This has just arrived!" Mey-Rin exclaimed. She was stumbling in her attempts to reach him faster, so presumably, the letter was important.

"Whom is it for?" Sebastian asked.

"It's for the "attendant of Ciel Phantomhive"."

As soon as Mey-Rin said this, several things happened at once. There was an unmistakable sound of someone readying the rifle from behind the window. Sebastian cocked his head in that direction, and two gasps followed immediately. One was foreign — it came from the intruder who was apparently tasked with killing him. The other one was irritatingly familiar. Mey-Rin tripped in her haste and was now flying towards him, just as the bullet started its deadly journey.

She was a part of the household, and normally, Sebastian would protect her if it came to it. But he and his Master were currently playing a game. Sebastian hadn't saved him and hadn't interfered when he was attacked, so why would he assist someone else? He had a role of a human, and humans didn't bend time to jump in front of the bullets. If Mey-Rin were to die today, then so be it.

However, it seemed that the fate had other plans. Mey-Rin collided with him right on time, throwing him over with a miserable groan. The bullet whistled past them, and Sebastian gazed at the ceiling vacantly, his thoughts far away.

He wasn't certain he was enjoying this experience. Human bodies weren't built to withstand the current of demonic energy, and right now, it was swirling and hissing under his skin, awakening hunger for revenge — hunger for destruction.

He was rapidly coming to conclusion that he needed to get his Master back. By whatever means necessary.

The pie that had gone flying the moment Mey-Rin crashed into him completed its descent. Sebastian caught it without having to look.

"Mey-Rin, give me the letter," he ordered. She complied, and he went to his feet, ignoring her wistful sigh.

If you want to return your Master safely, come to Nova garden Bethnal Green as soon as possible.

If you don't come before sunset, we will cut your Master's finger one by one, and send it to you. This is non-negotiable. Don't try your luck. Bring the item — you know what I mean.

"What a rude invitation," Sebastian said. His words were low and hoarse, and this time, when the fury attempted to overtake him, he didn't fight.

Enough was enough. He wouldn't stop the game, but he was a demon. Demons cheated. This badly written letter was meaningless, he would never follow its demands and it was likely a trap anyway, considering he had almost been shot just a second ago. But the intruders? They were still here, attempting to flee. With their help, tracking his Master down wouldn't be difficult even as a human, and if Sebastian added demonic speed to it…

Bard, Finnie, Madam Red, Lau, and Ran-Mao came running, with the crazy reaper trailing behind. All but the latter looked concerned, and this was the last thing Sebastian needed.

"I apologise for the ruckus. Nothing happened, so no need to worry," he assured them, a fake smile stretching his lips. Ran-Mao peered at him carefully, but he avoided looking at her. It was not the time.

"I'm sorry to ask this of you, but could you please take care of cleaning up?" he added as he faced the servants. Bard accepted the pie from him, looking at it in confusion.

One hundred steps. That's how much he needed to cover to leave the corridor the human way. It wasn't much, it would barely take a minute.

One. Two. Three. Four…

The seal flared with pain, and the next thing Sebastian knew, he was outside, his body dissolving into a shape closer to his true form.

Oh well. He would find an explanation for those fools later.

He had a Master to save.

SCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSC

Attacking a moving car was a fairly new experience, and Sebastian revelled in every moment of it. The two killers inside screamed when they saw him, and they screamed even louder when Sebastian grabbed the car and dragged it through the forest, pushing it halfway down the cliff. Their faces were full of primal terror, and he smiled at them benignly as he cradled their odd-looking phone in his hands. They had called someone as soon as they noticed him — chances were, the speaker on the other end was just the man he needed.

"Good day," Sebastian purred. Only silence greeted him, but he could hear someone's heavy breathing. Whomever had taken the boy was listening, and this was all that mattered. "I am one of the Phantomhive servants. Would my Master happen to be there?"

Nothing. It seemed that their rat wasn't very talkative. What a pity.

"Hello? Are you listening? Hello?"

This time, the speaker gulped. If Sebastian knew who the rat was and where he lived, he wouldn't be spending this much time on pointless conversations. Every second was vital — he had no idea what condition his stubborn Master was in, whether he needed assistance urgently or could wait until the game was completed. He didn't even know if he was talking to the right person. He didn't know anything, and it was maddening. Anger kept building, and building, and building, building until it filled him to the brim. It pulled his skin tight — a slightest movement, a smallest provocation, and it would burst out, flooding this forest, London, and possibly everything else, turning these lively places into deserts of nothingness but ruin.

And then, the sound.

"Woof."

Quiet, subdued, but playful. Spoken by the voice so familiar, Sebastian shuddered, pressing the phone closer to his ear, suddenly going mindless with an absurd surge of pure longing.

His Master. This was his Master speaking.

He was on the right track. They both would be home before dinner.

"I understand," he murmured reverently. His heart was beating at an alarmingly fast pace. "I will be there to collect you momentarily."

Severing the connection was the last thing he wanted, but he still did it, snapping the wire yet still holding the phone in his hands. Letting go of it would mean discarding the thing that had just given him the long-awaited contact with the boy, and he couldn't do it. Not immediately.

Not until the interrogation was over.

"Thank you for allowing me to borrow this," Sebastian uttered pleasantly. Two men stared at him with frightened, hopeless eyes. "And now, I'll ask you a few questions, if you don't mind. First, I'd like to know whom you work for."

SCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSC

Azzurro Vanel had taken residence in the northern part of East London. He had a large manor and a big group of men, and littering the halls with their broken corpses was highly entertaining. Sebastian hadn't eaten a soul in what felt like eternity, but blood and death functioned as sufficient sustenance to keep him from starving entirely. With his lord, he had to kill on a constant basis, yet doing it in such quantities was a rare and welcome gift.

His chest felt pleasantly full as he walked towards the sound of his Master's heartbeat. It was here, in this building, deafening in its familiarity. Its pace was off, though. This was how it sounded when Ciel Phantomhive was hurt, and something dark twisted in Sebastian, something that sent a flood of violence to his very fingertips.

By the time he opened the door, he was barely in control of his expression. Vanel's gun muzzle greeted him threateningly, but he paid it no mind — his entire attention instantly snapped to his Master.

He was lying on his side, with his back facing the door. Tight straps were wrapped around his body, his hands and his feet — Vanel had certainly gone overboard in his attempts to make sure that his prisoner wouldn't escape. In fact, tied like this, he resembled something… Something that made Sebastian's heart skip a beat, though he couldn't put his finger on the reason.

The boy wasn't moving, but he was awake. Sebastian knew this much. He also knew that he was in pain: he appeared calm and unmoving, but his hands were wrapped into fists, his shoulders were sharp with stiffness, and he held his legs in a way to minimise their pressure on one another.

A dark feeling intensified, and a few seconds passed before Sebastian shook it off.

He was here now. His Master was safe, and so the game could continue. He'd been gone for six hours and seven minutes: hopefully, this was sufficient to teach him a lesson, or at least a semblance of it.

Sebastian bowed, pressing his hand to his heart.

"I've come to retrieve my Master," he announced. Vanel chuckled and lowered his gun somewhat.

"I'm surprised," he said scornfully. "Here I was wondering what kind of monster was about to appear, and it's just a Romeo in a tailcoat?"

Romeo? Surely his human form didn't look adolescent.

"Who are you? You aren't just any butler, am I right?"

His Master let out an exasperated sigh, and Sebastian's lips twitched in the beginning of a grin.

"No," he replied serenely. "I'm one hell of a butler. Just that."

Another sigh, this time even more exasperated. The boy couldn't be overly hurt if he was still capable of getting annoyed with him.

"Yeah, right," Vanel sniffed. "At any rate, I have no intention of going at it with you."

Before Sebastian had a chance to react, Vanel grabbed his Master by the hair, pulling him up harshly. The boy gasped, and Sebastian stilled. The rage that exploded in him at witnessing someone manhandle Ciel Phantomhive right in front of him was like nothing he'd known — it crashed into him in one overpowering wave, filling his head with static and his body with that same terrifying hunger for devastation and chaos that had brought him here.

Up close, he could see blood on his Master's face. He was bleeding from his nose, his mouth, his forehead — if it was this bad on the unclothed parts of his body, how did the rest look like? What kind of weakling would enjoy assaulting someone bound this thoroughly?

"Did you bring the item?" Vanel demanded. His gun was pressed against the boy's temple, and Sebastian almost shivered in the anticipation of getting his claws into this pathetic representative of the Ferro family. They were going to have so much fun together.

"Yes," he replied. There were four heartbeats behind the mirror — a secret door? Most likely. He imagined Vanel's people were waiting for confirmation before they ambushed him. Let them try. Playing with humans never got boring, not when his Master was watching.

The moment Sebastian took the key out of his pocket, a bullet went through his head. It was a clean shot, and he widened his eyes theatrically before starting his graceful drop to the ground, his mouth hanging open in artificial shock.

Young Master jerked in Vanel's grip.

"Seba…" he choked out, then cut himself off abruptly.

More bullets rained down, leaving holes in his clothes and in his body, but Sebastian barely noticed it. His mind was focused on solving this new unexpected riddle.

His first instinct was that the boy was playing along. He delighted in sowing madness among humans as much as Sebastian did, and he was an excellent actor. But his heart didn't lie. It had stumbled and thrashed wildly… which could mean only one thing.

His Master wasn't playing. His terror was genuine — or it had been for a few seconds before his rationality took over. But this didn't matter: he reacted the same way he had during Sebastian's little game with Benjamin Rassford. A part of him truly believed that demons could be killed with some bullets. It was amusing, and flattering, and it put Sebastian in an excellent mood. The anger was still there, waiting for its moment, but smug joy currently took precedence.

He might have cheated at some points of this game, but the victory was undeniably his. His Master lost in almost every way that counted. He had succeeded in identifying the rat, but he failed to detain him; he failed to handle the situation appropriately, he failed to keep himself unharmed, and he failed to stop his emotions from betraying him.

It was not surprising. He could be a worthy opponent, but he was still a human with his human flaws and deficiencies. He was prone to emotional outbursts, and this led to the inability to look at the situation objectively. Sebastian was yet to meet a person who wouldn't suffer from such weaknesses.

Vanel burst into hysterical laughter.

"Sorry, Romeo!" he crowed. "Seems like I won this game! There was no way I was going up against the Phantomhive, the lord of the games, without an ace up my sleeve."

Sebastian's lips almost moved in an involuntarily smile. His Master certainly had an impressive reputation if he managed to turn the leader of one of the known underworld families into a pitiful, paranoid wreck like this.

Vanel shifted his grip on the boy, gripping his hair again.

"It seems I've damaged the goods a bit," he murmured. "But that's all right. I'm sure you'll fetch a pretty price even in this condition."

Oh? So Vanel wasn't going to kill him, he was planning on selling him?

A beast that coiled tightly in his chest hissed in outrage, but Sebastian shushed it. Vanel would never get to do this — he would stop being alive within the next hour. The threat itself was perfect, though. If anything could rattle his Master, it was this — just another way of proving that without Sebastian, he was completely helpless.

The eye patch fell under Vanel's gun, but his lord refused to open his second eye. He also refused to say anything, and Sebastian suppressed a frustrated sigh.

The abduction hadn't been enough to make this boy drop his stubbornness and call for help. The beating didn't work either. And now even a threat like this left him unmoved? What was wrong with him? Would he honestly prefer to die instead of accepting his defeat? Because this could be arranged. Sebastian could stay here playing human for several more hours. What would he do then?

"Don't worry," Vanel murmured. "You have so many enemies, I doubt you'll be alive for that much longer."

Sebastian despised people who talked so much. It seemed his Master did, too, because he finally raised his head.

"Hey," he uttered sharply, "how long do you intend to play around? How much longer are you planning to pretend to sleep there?"

At last, some reaction. It only took him six hours and eleven minutes.

"Oh well," Sebastian drawled, stretching lazily. The horrified shock on Vanel's face was as lovely as his incoherent spluttering. "Modern guns really have improved."

He didn't need to look at his Master to hear the eye roll, and for some reason, this little detail made him giddy. Sebastian tensed, letting his energy collect every bullet and carry them up, to his throat. With a satisfied grin, he spat them out and studied them curiously. They were better than he was used to indeed. Almost as good as the bullets Bard was accumulating at the manor in frightening quantities.

"What are you waiting for! Kill him!" Vanel roared. Before his men could pull their triggers again, Sebastian thrust the bullets at them, directing each one towards the gun that fired it. It was over before it even started, and he looked at his coat instead. So many holes. It almost resembled a dress.

He must have said some of it aloud because his Master scoffed.

"It's because you were playing around, you idiot," he grumbled. Being addressed by him had never felt this titillating— probably because it was the verbal admission of his defeat.

"Young Master," Sebastian sing-songed. "They don't appear to have treated you very well."

The boy said nothing, only glared. It was amusing enough to push Sebastian into walking.

"You look like a caterpillar," he noted, "both disgusting and splendid at once." As soon as he said this, the realisation flashed through his mind.

Of course. A caterpillar, that's the association he'd had but failed to name. A plain-looking tomb destined to give birth to a beautiful fragile creature. Of course, his Master was far from plain looking, but he was capable of becoming more than what he currently was. And then, with the wings… who knew what heights he could reach?

For some reason, the thought unnerved him, and Sebastian tried to get rid of it.

"It suits a small, fragile creature like you," he added absent-mindedly. His feet carried him closer, and he stopped only when Vanel tightened the grip on his gun.

"If you get any closer, I'll shoot him!" he yelled.

"Hurry up," Young Master countered impatiently. "His breath stinks."

Ah. So he still didn't want to admit his defeat in full. He thought Sebastian would save him without being ordered to do so, that he would discard the previous orders to stay out of this investigation just like that.

He was wrong.

"If I get any closer, you'll be killed," Sebastian explained innocently. A grimace of fury crossed his Master's face.

"You bastard," he spat. "Are you trying to break the contract?"

As if it was even in the realm of possibility.

"By no means," Sebastian bowed his head mockingly. "I am your loyal servant, after all." And loyal servants did what they were told. They obeyed orders to do nothing; if Young Master regretted his offensive order and decided he wanted his help, after all, he would have to say it directly, not hide behind implications.

"What the hell are you two talking about?" Vanel screamed. He was sweating profusely, and Sebastian really wanted to take his Master as far away from him as he could, the sooner, the better. Some people were too distasteful to even exist around someone like Ciel Phantomhive.

"Young Master," Sebastian murmured. He leaned forward, his lips fixed in a patient smile. "You know what you have to do. Just say the words."

This time, he wouldn't take anything less than a complete victory.

The boy pursed his lips. It was fascinating how even in a dire situation like this, he wasn't willing to fold. Sebastian had to resort to outright stating his terms to get anything from him — this was incomprehensible and wonderful in the most puzzling sort of ways.

His lord jerked his head up, sending another bitter glare to him. His right eye flew open.

"This is an order!" he growled. "Save me this instant!"

Sebastian's breath caught at the sight of his mark flashing purple. He began to smile, but then Vanel roared and pulled the trigger.

There was no time for thinking. His entire demonic essence threw him forwards, melting into a liquid shape that wrapped itself around the bullet before it had a chance to even graze his Master's skin.

The boy, to his credit, didn't even flinch. When Vanel stammered, he calmly turned to look at him, his eyes grave and cold, and so beautiful when one of them wasn't hidden behind the patch.

"Is this what you're looking for?" Sebastian asked. Vanel froze, not daring to move, his hand still wrapped around Young Master's chest. Unacceptable. "I shall return it to you."

He dropped the bullet that was audacious enough to try to end Ciel Phantomhive's life in Vanel's front pocket. When the man gasped in fright, Sebastian moved his forefinger a little and watched how the offensive limb holding his lord snapped, twisting itself into four loops. Vanel shrieked with pain. As he crashed into the floor with trembling gasps, Sebastian grinned, sharp and feral.

His amusement didn't last long, though, because he had much more important matters to attend to. His Master was still bound, so he wrapped his arms around him carefully and lifted him off the floor. The familiar scent and touch did wonders to that part of him that had been snarling hungrily, demanding retribution: now it calmed down, soothed by such close proximity.

"The game wasn't all that fun this time," the boy said quietly, and Sebastian hummed. Of course it wasn't. His Master would never enjoy something that made him lose.

Very carefully, he carried the boy to the chair and put him there, trying not to press too hardly against his skin. He would have to catalogue all bruises and determine which salve to use later tonight.

He would also have to cut Vanel's fingers off for touching what was never his. He hadn't killed the woman in France earlier, but maybe he could bring another gift for his Master. The fingers would work fine.

"Hey, you! Wait!" Vanel, the idiot who was about to become fingerless, tried to crawl after him. "Come and be my bodyguard! I'll pay you five — no, ten times what he does! And I'll give you all the women and alcohol you want!"

Sebastian rolled his eyes, snapping the straps coiling around his Master. Humans… So primitive and predictable. As if he would ever trade the uniquely fulfilling contract with Ciel Phantomhive for anything this or any other world had to offer.

"I'm sorry, Mister Vanel," he said, "but I have no interest in such materialistic things." The final strap was gone, and Sebastian straightened, facing the pathetic worm again. This time, he didn't have a smile to offer. He stared at Vanel fixedly, allowing the infernal red to light his eyes. "After all… I am one hell of a butler."

His Master let out a long-suffering sigh. Vanel went pale — it seemed that he was finally starting to understand what forces the boy had on his side.

"Hell?" he stammered.

A feather fell, quickly followed by dozens of others. Soon enough, the room plunged into darkness, and Sebastian released his grip on his human façade, blurring with the more familiar shadows.

His Master might have lost, but he still deserved a reward for identifying Vanel and enduring today's torture session with dignity. And who was Sebastian to withhold rewards when they were due?

He stepped forward, and the fun began.

SCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSC

When they returned to the manor, the sunset coloured the sky bright orange. Sebastian cradled his Master close, uncertain why he needed the physical contact so much but not concerned enough to overthink it. As the servants greeted them and the boy scolded them for their attitude, Sebastian dropped to his knee.

"Young Master," he called. Now that the game was over, they could return to their routine… until a new case came along. "I apologise profusely. I have erred in a manner unbefitting a Phantomhive butler. How should I repent?"

He hoped his flawless obedience would be an acceptable consolation prize. As long as his Master didn't shy away from admitting he needed him, they could have a perfectly functional bond. Hopefully, trying situations like the one today wouldn't arise again.

The boy appeared to agree with him. He looked hopeful and more than willing to accept this olive branch, so Sebastian continued, "I have not made the preparations for tonight's dinner in the slightest."

They would eat late today, but exceptions could be made sometimes. He'd make sure to prepare his Master's favourite dish.

But something was wrong. Instead of a smile he expected, he got a look of hurt so profound, his mouth ran dry.

"Young Master?" he asked carefully, but it was too late. The boy, giving him a curt nod, was already walking towards his home — half-running, really, as if he found Sebastian's company intolerable.

What… was that? His Master had never looked at him like this before. He rarely showed his feelings in general, but that kind of hurt? Sebastian was certain he'd never witnessed it before — he would remember it. Maybe his injuries were causing him more pain than he let on?

Concerned, he followed inside. The boy had already crossed the hallway and was walking up the stairs now, pressing his hand against his undoubtedly bruised ribs gingerly.

"Are you all right?" Sebastian asked. "I could—"

Young Master whirled around, his expression fierce.

"Leave me alone!" he growled. Sebastian stopped in his tracks. Concern shifted to surprise, and surprise gave way to annoyance.

So his olive branch had been rejected. His Master was still unable to accept the defeat. How unbecoming of him. He might have sulked when this happened previously, but he always managed to keep up the appearances and act more graciously.

He wouldn't be needing his favourite meals this evening, then. And however long his tantrum lasted, he wouldn't be able to act on it at night. After Vanel's threat of selling him and the experience of being kidnapped, he would be surely visited by nightmares. And that meant he would need Sebastian's help to calm down.

He was already looking forward to it.

SCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSC

His lord's bitter anger didn't lessen by the time he was supposed to go to sleep. Instead of letting Sebastian undress him and take care of any bruising, he called for Bard, of all people, and this was enough to destroy any sympathy Sebastian might have felt about his ordeal.

Very well. Let Bard heal his wounds — the man who thought the bruises would come off if you rubbed them hard enough. He was useful in combat but worthless in regard to almost anything else. And if the boy woke up screaming, it wouldn't be Bard who'd hear him.

It was just as Sebastian had thought. At night, his Master's heart threw an entire performance: it jerked, slowed, sped up, thrashed and stuttered. He was muttering in his sleep, too — most of the words were undecipherable, too twisted by whatever dream world held him captive, but Sebastian had managed to recognise "the rat," "Lau," and his own name.

It was amusing that even in his sleep, Young Master refused to honour Vanel by giving him a name. Calling Sebastian was expected, but what was Lau doing in his dreams? This was the aspect he didn't understand and didn't like.

Hours kept changing into one another, and Sebastian kept his vigil by his Master's bedroom, waiting for the inevitable panicked awakening. When it happened, the clock showed four in the morning. The boy woke up with a gasp, his choked, trembling breaths resonating through the gloomy stillness. A minute had passed, during which he succeeded in calming his erratic heartbeat, and then, finally, the long-awaited word left his lips.

"Sebastian."

Initially, he had been planning to wait before entering the room — his absence would undoubtedly trigger an even bigger anxiety in the boy, fuelling his ridiculous fears and heightening his vulnerability. But once again, his body disobeyed. Drawn by the voice that spoke his name like a command even when it was meant to be a plea, he stepped inside immediately, a condescending, pleased smile already twisting his lips.

"Young Master."

The boy measured him with a weary glance before sighing.

"Send a letter to Randall," he uttered evenly. "Tell him to release the official statement on what happened in Vanel's house to the newspapers. Our participation shouldn't be mentioned — the underworld will know who killed everyone. That will do."

Send a letter to… This was what concerned him? The technical details of their investigation?

Sebastian blinked. Blinked again. Whatever he was expecting his Master to say, it wasn't this. He'd been having nightmares throughout the entire night — Sebastian knew because he was listening closely. And yet comfort seemed to be the last thing he wanted now. Even immediately after sleep, he looked sharp and collected, his mind already at work.

How peculiar.

How captivating.

"It will be done," Sebastian assured. His voice was a strange combination of impressed and impatient. "Anything else?"

"No. Start composing the letter right away, I want Randall to take actions first thing in the morning."

Sebastian bowed automatically but lingered in the room. This couldn't be all, could it? Why would thoughts about Randall be the first thing on his Master's mind after a nightmare? Perhaps it was a way to distract himself, but then surely he would want Sebastian to remain in the room with him, to keep finding excuses to talk — anything to avoid the shadows that descended upon him with the nightfall.

The boy didn't look at him. He turned away, wrapping himself in a blanket.

"Close the door on your way out," he added quietly.

Even with the order, Sebastian hesitated. Things didn't make sense, and he didn't like it. The fact that he couldn't begin to understand what was happening was even more frustrating.

Slowly, he left and walked towards his own room, his thoughts swirling in confusion.

It couldn't all be over losing a game… could it? His Master was many things — if Sebastian were to list them all, this world would run out of scrolls of paper, but this? This was unexplainable. It was as if he didn't want to be in Sebastian's presence longer than absolutely necessary.

A dark sensation stirred in him, one that refused to be pushed aside. Sebastian tried to ignore it anyway and focus on his latest task instead.

Perhaps his lord just needed more time to reconcile with the reality of losing a game. Or perhaps Vanel was at fault — after all, Sebastian had no idea what he might have done or said in the hours they spent separated. What if he had contributed to the boy's current mental state? What if he—

Sebastian's hand stilled. He couldn't, wouldn't let his mind finish this thought. Because the idea of Ciel Phantomhive being violated the way he had been before their contract might have seemed amusing once, but now all it did was fill him with black, incandescent rage.

He would never allow it to happen. And his Master wouldn't have allowed it either. If placed in a situation like this, he would have called for him, damning his pride and prioritising his sanity. So no, whatever Vanel had done, it wasn't this.

That brought him back to his first impression: the boy was too upset from losing. And well, there was nothing to be done about that — next time, he would have to try harder and avoid giving stupid orders.

Sebastian would simply have to be patient. Perhaps in the morning, his Master would be more reasonable and they would finally be able to move on.

SCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSC

His Master didn't become more reasonable in the morning. If anything, he got worse.

He ignored the morning routine they had established years ago. He didn't talk unless absolutely pressed, he didn't comment on the quality and contents of his breakfast, he didn't ask for anything and he avoided Sebastian at all costs. The only consolation was that he had allowed him to dress him this morning instead of asking for Bard again, and Sebastian got a chance to observe and assess every bruise and scratch on his body.

They were excessive. It was easier to count the unblemished areas on his skin, and this fact left Sebastian strangely unsettled.

He didn't like seeing this. It was proof of his Master's lapse of judgement, a sign of Sebastian's victory, and yet somehow looking at it left an unpleasant taste in his mouth. If Vanel was still alive, Sebastian would have loved to get his hands on him again, and this time, their fun wouldn't end as quickly.

He applied the special herbal salve he'd been keeping in storage to each bruise, his touches light and gentle. He took particular care when selecting his Master's clothing and buttoning his shirt, making certain that it wouldn't rub against his wounds. But even these efforts weren't appreciated. The boy barely looked at him and sent him away at the first opportunity, telling him to accompany his aunt instead.

This was gradually ceasing to be baffling, verging into the territory of turmoil instead. There had been periods when Young Master was angry with him and chose silence as a form of punishment, but in most cases, Sebastian had an idea of what he might be guilty of. Here, he couldn't tell at all.

Was it the result of the poisoning incident? Still?

He kept wondering about it as he knocked on Madam Red's door. Offering his company to her was the last thing he wanted, but he supposed it was better not to aggravate his Master even more by finding a way to avoid following his order.

Almost an entire minute later, the door opened. Madam Red stared at him, and Sebastian stared right back, the words of greeting dying on the tip of his tongue.

Her soul had never been a pleasant thing to look at. It had been dull and dim, with several rotten patches, such a contrast to her vibrant personality. Now, though? Now it was fiery red, and the amount of rot increased to a concerning degree. Whatever she had done this night, it had to be something spectacular. Something that guaranteed her residence in one of the domains of Hell after she died.

"What is it, Sebastian?" she asked. Her voice was devoid of its normal flirting undertones.

"Young Master had told me to inquire about your breakfast preferences," he replied. The new swirls of her soul were engaging, no matter how distasteful Sebastian found them, so he had a hard time keeping his eyes on her face. "After that, I am to accompany you wherever you wish to go."

"Oh." She stared at him with blank eyes, and Sebastian tilted his head, intrigued by this new mystery.

The reaper had to be involved with it somehow, whatever 'it' even was. The bond between them was getting more interesting by the day, and maybe it was time to investigate it properly.

On the other hand, this possibility lost some of its appeal when Sebastian remembered why he was here in the first place. His Master didn't want to see him — he was annoyed for some unexplainable reason and he exiled him to keep company with his aunt.

His investigation would have to wait. Sebastian didn't feel comfortable focusing on it when he had more pressing issues to attend to.

"I won't go anywhere today," Madam Red said finally. She gave him a strange look and Sebastian cleared his throat, displeased with himself. It was not appropriate for a good butler to lose concentration so easily.

"Then you won't need my assistance?" he clarified. A faint smile emerged on her lips.

"No. And I imagine you won't be too heartbroken over it, considering whom your attention tends to belong to."

"I beg your pardon?"

Madam Red shrugged listlessly, lowering her eyes to inspect her nails.

"It's all right," she said. "Everyone always chooses him, just like they always chose my sister. I'm used to it. It doesn't bother me anymore."

Something was very wrong, but it wasn't Sebastian's place to interfere. He bowed and retreated, and while a part of him was curious about this unfolding drama, the majority of his thoughts focused on his Master again.

First he would resolve this problem. Then he would bother with everything else.

SCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSC

The next day, the situation didn't improve. What changed was Sebastian's reaction to it.

Yesterday, he'd been confused and concerned. Today, his entire being was engulfed by a dark, hungry yearning.

The boy was still ignoring him. He wasn't engaging in any attempts at conversation, he wasn't reacting to jabs — he kept himself away, and the speed with which this behaviour became unbearable was startling.

Sebastian craved… something. It wasn't what he could define, and the inability to formulate and comprehend his own wishes bothered him with increasing intensity. All he knew was that there was a chasm opening wide inside him, sucking in every thought and feeling that wasn't related to his Master, and the more time they spent apart, the more vicious and the hungrier it became.

More and more Sebastian began to rely on his demonic core to complete the senseless orders his lord kept giving him. It allowed him to act on the addictive pull and return into the boy's presence sooner, awaiting other instructions and a chance to get something more this time. A remark that would be mocking but in a more good-natured way; a glance that didn't look like it held all the ice in the world in it; a smile, perhaps. At least a brief one.

But there was nothing, just another empty order to go and handle something in the kitchen or in the garden. Every rejection bit into him, and each left an imprint of slowly mounting anger. He couldn't risk unleashing it on his Master, even though his hands twitched in a familiar impulse to wrap themselves around his neck, so Bard, Mey-Rin, and Finnie carried its burn.

"This is pathetic," Sebastian said flatly, watching the wilted roses. White roses. The boy's favourite. "I wasn't aware that your brain was experimented on as well. Did they remove any trace of intelligence to amplify your strength? Is that the explanation for your absolute failure to learn even after hearing precise instructions multiple times?"

Finnie blinked at him with a stunned, hurt look on his face. This expression began to make Sebastian's skin crawl when coming from his Master, but on Finnie, it looked exhilarating. Gleeful pleasure bloomed in his chest, soothing some of the frustrated anger.

"Had I known how useless you were, I would have never insulted my lord by bringing you into his household," he drawled. This time, Finnie burst into tears, and his genuine heartache filled the hungry chasm inside Sebastian with potent energy. The confusing instability vanished, and for the first time throughout the day, he relaxed.

His improved mood carried him to his Master's office. The boy was working on something, his face tight and severe, and he didn't even bother to look at him.

"I have come to clean the curtains," Sebastian announced. A quiet snort he earned in reply made his heart soar.

"How do you clean the curtains, I thought they were supposed to be washed," Young Master muttered under his breath. "And isn't Mey-Rin responsible for it?"

"They are quite heavy, so I thought to take care of it personally."

"Right. Because demons have such a caring personality."

This was the first semi-normal exchange they had in what felt like weeks. With a smirk, Sebastian approached the curtains and started pulling them down. It took him about ten minutes — this was the maximum amount of time he could pretend to dedicate to a task like this, but his Master didn't speak another word. The unsettled sensation returned to his stomach, and so he decided to try again.

"What would you think if one was to present a pair of human eyes to you as a gift?" he asked. "Hypothetically speaking."

His Master raised his head, staring at him in confusion. It was a vast improvement from the shuttered expression he'd been wearing, and Sebastian's heart jumped a little.

"What would I do with a pair of human eyes?" the boy wondered. This was a good question.

"I don't know. What do you usually do with gifts?"

"With gifts or body parts?"

"They don't have to be mutually exclusive."

His Master frowned, probably contemplating this statement.

"What colour would these eyes be?" he asked finally. "Hypothetically speaking."

"Blue," Sebastian said immediately. At this, Young Master's gaze narrowed.

"You aren't talking about my eyes, are you?" he asked suspiciously. "Because if you think tearing them out and giving them to me in their detached state is a gift…"

Somehow, the idea was more horrifying than it should have been, and so Sebastian hissed, "No!"

The boy's frown deepened.

"Well, that's a relief," he drawled sarcastically. "Although at this stage, it wouldn't surprise me. What if I ever say something like, 'I don't want to see this' and you'll take it as an order to blind me? This seems like the exact thing you would do."

"No, I—" Sebastian shook his head, bewildered. This conversation wasn't going the way he'd planned it. "I wouldn't do that. Not to you."

He hadn't meant to add the last part. But he had, and now Ciel Phantomhive was looking at him like he could see right through him, his stare sharp and intelligent. It was odd, alienating, and strangely exciting. Sebastian shook his head again, forcefully snapping his mind to its initial track.

"I wasn't talking about your eyes," he insisted. His Master huffed.

"I don't care about eyes. Why are we talking about eyes in the first place? Did you like someone's so much that you want to steal them?"

Sebastian's jaw slackened in surprise. Then startled laughter escaped his lips, and he had to press his hand to them to stop it.

Young Master didn't share his amusement. His own lips tightened, a clear sign of dissatisfaction, and his voice got colder when he asked, "Did you?"

What an endlessly puzzling boy. Even if Sebastian did something as incomprehensible as liking someone's eyes enough to want to collect them, why would it displease his Master?

"I didn't," Sebastian assured him. "No one's eyes intrigued me enough to entice me into preserving them. Except, perhaps…" his voice trailed off as he stared at the boy, examining the vivid blueness of his iris, the multiple layers of shade upon shade. If he had a chance to look closer, uninterrupted, to hold it in his hands…

His Master let out an outraged gasp.

"You've just said you weren't talking about me!" he exclaimed, scandalised. Sebastian shrugged, not feeling particularly guilty.

"I wasn't," he said. "Not at that moment, at least."

The boy growled.

"Get out!" he snapped. "And don't bring me anyone's eyes, I don't want them!"

So much for establishing truce.

Annoyed, Sebastian followed the order, carrying the curtains he didn't need. The farther he walked away, the wider the abyss inside him grew.

This time, reducing the servants to tears didn't do anything to bridge it.

SCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSC

By nightfall, Sebastian felt rattled. He couldn't find a place or an activity that distracted him enough. He could barely focus on Madam Red and Grell, even though they were clearly engaged in something potentially dangerous: the instinct to follow Ciel Phantomhive around overpowered everything else. They hadn't shared a single conversation similar to the one they'd had in the afternoon, and this fact began to poison not just his mind but his body. When Sebastian looked at his hands, he could barely see their outlines. The energy that helped to maintain his human appearance was slipping along with his ability to concentrate, and if anyone saw him, they would instantly know that something was wrong.

The problem was, with each passing moment, he cared about it less and less. His rationality and intelligence were evaporating like smoke, replaced by more primitive sensations. Thoughtless hunger was taking their place, and at this point, it started to become truly alarming.

He didn't know what was happening to him. This wasn't the first time he and his Master were at odds with each other, but he'd never experienced such an intense uncontrollable reaction before. He had no idea what to do and how much worse it would get.

The last time he'd felt a hunger like this, he was embarrassingly young. It was eons ago, and the feeling was typical because every demon experienced it. It was a hunger for souls, for fuel that could inject him with a rush of intoxicating power. But this, now? It wasn't about craving a soul. It was the need for something else, something deeper, and Sebastian was alarmed as much as he was fascinated.

When his Master fell asleep, he stepped towards his bed, watching his frowning face intently. This close, the hunger abated a little. The terrible restlessness inside him fell quiet, and his human body regained its shape.

Still, the chasm was there, twisting his insides in a longing for things he couldn't define. Perplexed by himself, Sebastian leaned closer, trying to identify what he wanted. Carefully, he removed his glove and drew his finger up the boy's smooth cheek. When his body shuddered uncontrollably, he paused.

Interesting. What was that and why would he feel it now?

He repeated his light caress several times, unsurprised when his nails sharpened into claws. Each touch sent a rain of goose bumps down his skin, and the sensation was so unique that Sebastian was instantly enamoured with it.

He'd witnessed people getting goose bumps before, but he'd never felt it himself. He hadn't been able to imagine the sensation or explain the phenomenon of it. He couldn't explain it now either, but at least he felt something, and it was so new that he never wanted it to end.

But it wasn't enough. Sebastian thought for a moment, trying to listen to himself and understand what his mind was so impatient for.

No clarity. Then maybe… maybe his human part could help? This was the approach he hadn't tried. His body had been malfunctioning for a long time now, so perhaps if he listened to its wishes, it would finally start obeying him properly.

Satisfied with his sudden insight, Sebastian attempted to focus on this new goal. He closed his eyes and gradually shut down every source of his true essence, severing contact with his demonic energy as completely as he physically could.

In this state, his human dwelling felt vulnerable and unprotected. But apparently, it had instincts of its own because Sebastian found himself leaning even closer and pressing his nose to the boy's hair, inhaling its scent.

Instantly, a dizzying kind of happiness flooded him. The feeling was even more confounding than the one he'd experienced before, but in his almost-blind demonless state, Sebastian had no interest in dissecting it — he only wanted to enjoy it.

He inhaled again, this time greedily, letting the boy's scent wash over him. He breathed, and breathed some more, until all the air in his lungs tasted of Ciel Phantomhive.

The chasm closed. Any remnants of unrest settled down, and Sebastian basked in this long-awaited peace, feeling how every particle of him came alive under its influence.

A distant part of him thought that what he was doing now would horrify and repel him later. That it would cause him to flee the room and be too mortified to even look in his Master's direction in the morning.

Mostly, though, he didn't care. He was enjoying this specific moment, and whatever came after it was irrelevant. This deep immersion into the most soothing and alluring of the scents, this current of pleasure running through him — Sebastian couldn't imagine himself regretting his own indulgence. Not now, not later.

SCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSC

He didn't regret it. When the morning came, he felt stable and energised, as if he'd spent the night feasting on souls, blood, and pain rather than something as innocent as the scent of his Master. Even the cold stares and indifference weren't enough to rattle him and poke holes in his elevated mood.

He was pleasantly surprised when the boy initiated their first real conversation willingly.

"What do you think about Lau?" he asked. His gaze was still distant, but he was talking, and Sebastian latched onto his question with the intensity it didn't warrant.

"He's a good ally to have," he said slowly. "He has connections with almost anyone in the underworld and he is clever enough to know he can benefit from working with you rather than against you. He's intrigued by you, and this guarantees his loyalty for the foreseeable future."

"Intrigued," Young Master repeated. He rubbed his shoulders almost nervously, like he wasn't certain how to react to Sebastian's evaluation.

"Is something wrong? Do you have reasons to distrust Lau?"

"No. Not really. It's just sometimes…" the boy's voice trailed off, and Sebastian narrowed his eyes, his back tensing.

After his latest exchanges with Lau, he didn't bother to watch him closely. But Lau had taken temporary residence in the manor to keep Madam Red company — he departed only today, and if his lord noticed that something was amiss...

Sebastian had prevailingly positive feelings towards the man. He was unique enough to be intriguing, and watching him was a curiosity by itself. Yet if he was playing some game against Ciel Phantomhive behind Sebastian's back, he would not hesitate to cut him down before he got even further out of hand.

"Sometimes he unnerves me," the boy said abruptly. Coming from him, the admission was startling, but before Sebastian could react, he shook his head.

"Forget it," he grumbled. "I can hardly complain about Lau when my other allies include an insane undertaker, incompetent servants and a demon. Don't you have somewhere to be?"

Ah, so it was back to coldness. Fine. This short conversation had given Sebastian an idea, and he was certain that after it, things would finally go back to normal.

Whatever grievances his Master still held against him, they would not matter if they had to investigate another case. And if there wasn't any… Sebastian would come up with one.

SCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSC

Despite his Master's concerns, Lau was the closest ally Sebastian could find for this particular plan to work. Still, it didn't mean he wasn't going to include a warning into his note.

I want you to get in touch with the Ferro family and let them know that my Master has killed Azzurro Vanel. Inform them that he will be in London tomorrow around midday in case they want to take their revenge.

Then I need you to contact my Master. Send a letter to him and request a midday meeting in London. When he arrives, tell him that other members of the Ferro family are unhappy about his participation in Vanel's death and seek to harm him.

Do be cautious when interacting with my lord. I would not want to receive any complaints and be forced to pay you another visit.

S.

The fact that the name his Master had given him and his real name started with the same letter never ceased to amuse him. Lau wouldn't be able to appreciate this little hint, but this barely mattered. Tomorrow, he and his Master would finally have something to do — something that would let them leave the manor and go back to the investigative routine.

Lau sent two letters at once later that evening. One was for Young Master, with the invitation to meet. Another one was addressed to Sebastian.

My dear butler,

Playing both sides now, are we? Technically, I work for Earl Phantomhive, so perhaps I should be obliged to warn him about your little plan.

But you're in luck. I'm officially curious to see whatever it is you're up to. Everything is done, the Ferro family has been warned. I have little to no doubts that they will attack your boy tomorrow in London. I assume you will be accompanying him? That will be fun.

No need to pay me a visit. I'll be on my best behaviour.

And then, we'll see.

There was nothing after this last cryptic line, and Sebastian snorted in amusement. Lau seemed unable to help himself — his need to poke others and watch them react prevailed over his self-preservation instinct.

Perhaps he would make a suitable master in the future, after Ciel Phantomhive was dead and Sebastian was on the lookout for the next contract.

The thought felt odd, so he discarded it readily.

He did have a lot to plan.

SCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSC

The idea was simple. The boy wouldn't risk travelling to London on his own — whatever tension existed between them, he would overlook it in order to secure his safety. He still hadn't recovered from his experience with Vanel entirely, so he would ask Sebastian to accompany him.

They would meet with Lau and Lau would tell them about the threat of the Ferro family. Young Master would be attacked some time later, and Sebastian would assist him before anyone had a chance to lay a hand on him. This would be the evidence of the immediacy of the danger, and they would have to work on eliminating it together. By the end of it, the boy would hopefully recover from his unexplainable sulk and everything would go back to normal.

Getting a chance to hunt down a whole group of people and slaughter them was an enticing bonus, too.

Sebastian prepared thoroughly. With Finnie avoiding him like plague, he managed to save the remaining white roses and he decorated the house with them, hoping it would put his Master in a good mood starting from the early morning.

Everything seemed to be going according to plan. The boy acted somewhat warmer as he woke up. When he noticed the roses, he rolled his eyes, but not before Sebastian caught a glimpse of a smile on his lips.

He didn't ask any questions about the letter he was given, accepting and reading it in silence, and when he finally opened his mouth, Sebastian knew what he was going to say word by word.

Prepare the coach — a short and concise order, so typical of his Master.

"Prepare the coach," the boy echoed aloud. Deep pleasure swirled in Sebastian, and he imagined the next words: I'm going to London. Always straight to the point: mentioning location and himself only because he believed Sebastian to be a hired extension of him, not worthy of a separate mention.

"I'm going to London," Young Master confirmed. The next phrase would be, Be ready in seven minutes. Because he liked odd numbers and he was a creature of a deeply calculating nature. Five minutes wouldn't be enough, ten minutes would be too much.

"Ask Finnie to leave what he is doing — he will be accompanying me."

He'd been so focused on what he was certain Young Master would say that when he did speak, Sebastian didn't even register his voice because it hadn't said the words it was supposed to. The moments their meaning finally reached him, he stiffened. A new kind of darkness clawed itself to life in his body, and the searing prints it left across his insides were more than a little bothersome.

"Is there any particular reason why you are still standing here?" the boy asked him. The darkness hissed, and it took a few seconds for Sebastian to snap it back under control.

"You would like Finnie to accompany you?" he repeated. Perhaps he had misheard. His Master couldn't make the same mistake twice in a row.

But apparently he could because his expression remained even when he shrugged, putting the letter aside.

"That's what I said."

This was absurd. Since when did he take Finnie to accompany him? How long was he set on continuing this tedious, senseless game that Sebastian understood less and less?

"Are you sure it's safe?" he asked. He tried to match his tone to his Master's, but it didn't come out quite that way. "Our servants can defend the house when needed but they are useless as personal bodyguards. Their training is lacking."

The glare he received was so honest and vehement that it took him aback.

"Their training might be insufficient but their loyalty is in place," his lord spoke. There was more emotion on his face than there had been in days, and Sebastian would have welcomed this change if it wasn't so clearly negative. "If something happens to me, they will try to save me in any way they can. You, on the other hand, will be standing there until my life is in direct danger. I'm sure that you would have gladly watched Vanel sell me to those people he was speaking of, and you would have interfered only if I begged you for it."

The bitterness of the accusation shocked Sebastian into recoiling. He stared at the boy, knowing his eyes were impossibly wide now, sensing how astonishment overtook and twisted his features.

Those who are loyal to me will protect me physically. That's what Young Master had said the day before Vanel's attack. Sebastian had assumed that he meant other servants, but what if this included him, too?

But of course it did. It was the incentive that had slipped his notice. His Master was the first to offer him a tentative olive branch, and Sebastian ignored it.

The realisation of what had been the problem all this time wrapped itself around his throat, constricting it to a point where he couldn't swallow. Guilt remained a foreign feeling, but during this last month, he'd experienced it more often than he cared to admit. It was unpleasant and suffocating — it niggled at him, twisting his stomach into knots and pulling at his various organs in a random order. How could humans withstand it? And what was the best way of alleviating it?

Maybe he could try to explain.

"I would have never let him sell you," he uttered carefully. "It would go against the—"

"You are twisting the contract as you see fit," the boy interrupted him harshly. His stare was icy, but his words brimmed with hot fury. "Don't pretend it would have stopped you. You let me be taken from my house. You let me get hurt. You don't respect our contract in the slightest, not until it benefits you. And that's fine. I certainly didn't expect loyalty from a demon. But I hope I've made it clear enough why I'm choosing to take Finnie with me. You…" He paused, his mouth twisted in a disgusted sneer. "You tire me. I forbid you to even appear in my presence until I call for you. Now go and warn Finnie. I want to leave within half an hour."

Half an hour, not seven minutes. Because his lord was taking Finnian with him, and Finnian wouldn't be able to get ready as fast as Sebastian.

He didn't know how long he stood rooted to a spot. When he moved, it was automatic — regardless of his personal feelings on the matter, he had an order to follow.

As expected, Finnian was over the moon at the chance to travel somewhere with his Master. As soon as he ran to change his clothes, Sebastian retreated into his own room.

He had to think.

The boy's silence, his coldness and his anger — it all made sense now. Somehow, he had expected Sebastian to protect him from Vanel's attack regardless of his earlier words of handling the situation on his own. There was a game taking place, but the rules were different. Those words about loyalty were a test: his Master wanted to see whether Sebastian would honour the contract despite being pushed out of the investigation.

How was he supposed to know that? While the claim about loyalty was clear in retrospect, it had been nothing but the subtlest of hints at the time.

Or maybe that was the point. Maybe Sebastian wasn't supposed to know anything, but he was still expected to act in the way his lord wanted.

How needlessly complicated.

With a quiet growl, he pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes briefly.

He'd never played such literal games with his masters before. If he had, it was one-sided — no one bothered to compete with him for a victory. He had certainly never lost before, but now? He was in a strange position where he no longer knew who won.

On the one hand, he succeeded in proving that Ciel Phantomhive needed him in any investigation. On the other hand, could the bruises on his body and the fresh onslaught of his nightmares be considered a victory? Suddenly, it didn't feel that way. Suddenly, it felt like his biggest defeat, and Sebastian flinched, his heart twitching uncomfortably at the thought.

The current unfolding situation mirrored the situation with Vanel in a poetic way. Here they were again — Young Master heading straight into danger after having forbidden Sebastian to participate or even appear in his presence. What should he do now? Follow the coach anyway? Interfere in case Finnie failed to protect his Master, which was very likely?

For a moment, Sebastian wavered. He had every right to choose which order he'd rather follow, just as he'd had with Vanel. His Master had officially restricted his involvement — this meant he could obey and do nothing even if someone attacked him. This was the approach he'd chosen several days ago. But the contract demanded that he defend his lord against threats no matter what, meaning that it could take precedence over any other order.

The idea of ignoring the attack and watching Young Master get hurt held some undeniable allure. He was still recovering from Vanel, so Sebastian could only imagine how much sweeter his pain would taste, how beautifully haunted his eyes would look; the bruises decorating his skin would amplify and diversify their colours, forming an intriguing mosaic.

Then again… he was still recovering from Vanel. If attacked again, he would be in pain. He would be haunted by even more vicious nightmares and there wouldn't be an unbruised part on his body.

It seemed both options had the same arguments on their side. Unfortunate. How would that help him choose?

Sebastian ignored the passage of time. It took his seal starting to burn for him to jerk up and jump to his feet, his mind made up before a rational part of him even comprehended it.

It wasn't his Master making a second mistake in a row by forbidding him to accompany him. It was Sebastian — by sitting here and thinking of proving his Master's accusations right.

He was loyal. For the time being. And now that he knew what was wrong, he could finally start making amends properly.

SCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSC

He arrived just on time. Finnie was gasping uselessly, trying to catch up with the carriage, and his Master was inside — blindfolded, gagged, with his hands tied behind his back, but otherwise unharmed. Notably, he didn't attempt to call for Sebastian — not even when one of his attackers pressed a blade against his cheek roughly.

He didn't know what infuriated him more. Thankfully, thinking wasn't required, so he launched himself into attack, summoning all the energy he'd been holding and coating himself with it. The coachman lucked out — Sebastian only had time to snap his neck, but the two men in the carriage deserved a more thorough treatment.

They didn't see him coming. They wasted a few seconds on realising that their fingers were suddenly gone — a standard punishment for those who touched what wasn't theirs. By the time the pain hit and they began to shriek in horror, Sebastian plunged his clawed hands into their soft stomachs, crushing everything he could reach from the inside.

This was supposed to be a start of a new case. Somehow, though, this became about revenge, pure and simple. These particular men might have failed to harm his Master in any way, but they were related to Vanel, and Vanel was an insect that shouldn't have died as quickly as he had. Had Sebastian known how many troubles he would cause, he would have prolonged the torture for days, not minutes.

These substitutes would have to suffice. Pity that he couldn't toy with them either — Finnian was about to reach the carriage while his Master… who knew what he was thinking? He was sitting frozen, his head tilted, listening to the screams. He had to know that Sebastian was here, but if he did, he didn't give any sign of it.

Sebastian snapped the remaining bones, then squeezed them in his fists. When he opened them again, a greyish pile of dust greeted him. Some chunks of the bodies were scattered around chaotically, but mostly, there were only blood and ash left behind.

Blood wasn't good. His Master hated the sight of it.

Looking at him now, with his proud back and even breathing, Sebastian couldn't get enough. Impulsively, he reached out, pulling the cloth from his mouth and brushing his still-demonic fingers against his cheek.

He wouldn't remove the blindfold. Not until his lord was outside, away from the blood. His hands, though…

Sebastian moved to untie them, but the door of the carriage was suddenly opening. All he could do was send the boy a regretful glance and disappear, using the nearby shadows as his shelter.

He didn't know why he'd done it. Shouldn't he have let his Master know who saved him? If he wanted to make amends, how would hiding his assistance help?

But somehow, doing it this way felt like a right decision. Perhaps it was a human thing, one Sebastian had no hopes of understanding. It was almost like… announcing his presence would be boasting. Rubbing his lord's thoughtless orders into his face. Normally, he would enjoy such an opportunity, but he had no reason to boast of anything now. He'd made a mistake with Vanel — now, he was correcting it. Nothing more.

It still didn't make much sense, so Sebastian shook his head and concentrated on watching the carriage instead.

He would see to it so that his Master arrived home safely. And then, if he had to, he would slaughter the remaining members of the Ferro family by himself.

Ciel Phantomhive didn't need a new case. He needed loyalty, and that was exactly what Sebastian would give him. Until that, too, became a thing of the past.

SCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSC

His first instinct told him to organise something grand. A situation where his Master would have no choice but appreciate the devotion he demonstrated. But after brief contemplation, Sebastian discarded the idea.

One grand gesture might not cancel out the breach of trust he was being blamed for. He had just saved the boy despite having a chance to ignore the attack — this was relevant enough, yet it didn't bring any palpable shifts. Young Master was still mostly silent, although he started looking at him more often now. This was a start, but there was still a lot of ground to cover.

So Sebastian settled on doing small things. Finding a person who could turn his lord's newly broken cane into another one, the best London had to offer. Preparing his favourite snack even when it wasn't scheduled. Getting the softest new linens for his bed; selecting the clothes he found most comfortable, even if he never cared enough to comment on it aloud.

The arrival of Lady Elisabeth was a source of both annoyance and delight. On the one hand, her endless shrilly demands began to grate on Sebastian's nerves after the first ten minutes spent in her company. The way she put a pink hat on his head didn't endear her to him either. On the other hand, watching how she flustered his gloomy Master was amusing, and Sebastian was almost confident that he could twist this entire situation into his favour — this could become his ultimate victory in this latest game of regaining Ciel Phantomhive's trust.

He just had to decide what to do and when.

SCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSC

Dancing was never supposed to be a part of it. True, Sebastian had spent many nights in this human realm whirling his countless masters and mistresses to the sounds of music — he was exceedingly good at it, but it was never an activity he particularly enjoyed. That was why his own mouth saying, "With your permission, I shall be your dance instructor" left him as speechless as it did his lord.

"Don't be ridiculous!" the boy finally exclaimed, his face flushing in outrage. "As if I could dance with a tall man like you!"

Height difference played no role here — Sebastian was more concerned with the interest that suddenly swelled in his chest.

He'd never wanted to dance before. Dancing could be entertaining but for the most part, it left him indifferent. Now, though, excited anticipation was mounting, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't explain it to himself.

"Besides, you can't dance anyway."

His Master's words tore him from his confused thoughts. Shaking his head a little, Sebastian smiled.

"If it is the Vienna Waltz, then leave it all to me," he announced. "I was a frequent guest at Schönbrunn Palace."

The colours on his lord's face kept changing shades so rapidly, he barely had time to catalogue them all. He seemed embarrassed, pleased, horrified, and nervous at the same time, and this pushed Sebastian forwards. He offered his hand — for some odd reason, it was already tingling.

"May I have the honour of this dance, my lord?" he asked silkily. To his delight, a new shade of red flooded the boy's cheeks. He fidgeted, glancing at his hand apprehensively, then making a series of panicked gestures with his own hands.

Sebastian watched for a while, curious, but it seemed to be going nowhere. If he wanted them to start, he would have to quite literally drag his Master to the centre.

"It's all rather simple," he told him, the soothing softness of his voice contradicted by the firm grip on the boy's arm. "Since you're going to be leading a lady, I'll be taking a female position. Both female and male steps are similar, yet at the same time, a perfect synchrony is required."

At this point, he was barely aware of his own words. The strange excitement kept building, and its impatient pulls subsided only when Sebastian brought his Master's hand to his waist and gripped his shoulder carefully.

Standing like this, with their bodies connected through three angles at once, he could feel the energy thrumming. It was a strange and addictive force, one that slipped into his conscious and devoured his rational thoughts. Sebastian vaguely realised that he was still talking, still showing the right sequence of steps to the boy, but his focus lied elsewhere — his eyes closed as he gave himself to the sensation.

It was electric, this energy. It felt like a liquid flame that had a mind of its own — it kept growing hotter, dancing around and between them in lazy circles. Sebastian's skin felt oddly warm, and for a moment, he thought his human body might dissolve in the heat of it. But then Young Master kicked him, his head crashing into Sebastian's chest by accident, and Sebastian's eyes flew open.

The return to the real world was cold and startling. The energy dissipated like it was never there, and he glanced at the boy in wonder, musing if he had experienced the same thing.

It didn't look that way. His lord wore a sullen expression that barely masked his guilt — which, admittedly, was out of ordinary, but not what Sebastian would have expected from someone who had sensed the energy he had tasted.

This was unnerving. The last thing he needed was another source of confusing distraction.

"Your natural ability for dancing isn't so much lacking as it is non-existent, Young Master," he rebuked. The firmness of his voice brought some of the stability he was seeking. "You should not just dangle off me."

Predictably, this made the boy gasp.

"It's your fault for being too tall!" he protested. With a smirk, Sebastian began to pull away, but Young Master held on, his fingers clinging, reluctant to let go of his hand.

It lasted for a split of a second only, yet it was enough for the energy to crackle again. The overwhelming need to touch the boy and the instinct to flee clashed in a fierce battle, with the former quickly gaining advantage.

"Above all else, though, you must wipe that sour look off your face," Sebastian murmured. "It would be rude to show that to a lady."

The words didn't matter — what mattered was that his hands settled on his lord's cheeks. This time, his grip wasn't careful. It was firm and rough, possessive and intense, and it transferred a bone-deep bliss straight into his body. Sebastian shuddered, almost dizzy from the satisfaction of a touch that went beyond what was appropriate, but before the feeling overtook him, his Master knocked his hands away harshly.

"Unhand me!" he barked. Wordlessly, Sebastian obeyed. His heart was beating violently, and now that the connection was broken once more, he could admit he was intimidated.

Everything that was happening wasn't supposed to happen. He knew that much. He couldn't begin to explain his reactions, and his lord had every right to be angry with him for overstepping.

But the boy turned away, as if embarrassed, and Sebastian let out a breath. Whatever upset him, it wasn't the breach of propriety. That was good. He had little desire to be responsible for something that confused him.

"I can't!" his Master spat. "I… I have long forgotten how to smile joyfully."

It was fascinating, how rapidly a human voice could get from harshness to wistful misery. The words themselves, though… they were less than inspiring.

The boy didn't remember when he smiled in delight? Because Sebastian did. And this memory was enough for the ice to sharpen inside him, freezing every strange emotion he couldn't name.

Just a short time ago, his lord had not simply smiled — he laughed in joy. Laughed from some senseless story Bard had been telling him, from finding his presence comforting after another nightmare. Laughed as if he had any right to do that, as if Bard had any right to him.

His eyes flared with crimson. The energy that crackled this time was familiar and poisonous, and Sebastian absorbed it, letting it coil tight around him.

This was when the boy turned to face him again, and his eye widened at whatever he saw. The burst of fear from him was so heady that Sebastian licked his lips, but as always, it was extinguished with admirable quickness.

"Why are you standing there?" his Master asked coldly. "Did it look like a successful attempt to you?"

Sebastian bowed his head, and in one breath, the simmering anger was dispelled.

This was a dancing lesson and he was fulfilling his duty. Nothing more. It didn't matter when or why his Master had laughed: they were both here in the present, and hopefully, Sebastian's mind was clear now.

They could continue easily. No distractions.

Unfortunately, this certainty faltered very soon. The moment he pulled the boy closer again, the energy between them seared. For a while, it was bearable — Sebastian even managed to concentrate, but when he suggested switching their roles…

He'd done it out of curiosity rather than necessity. He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it definitely wasn't for the unidentified power to triple its potency. Somehow, holding the boy in his arms as a dance partner was worse than being led by him — the fire licked at his nerve endings, intensifying each sensation. If he had known that dancing could feel like this, it might have become his favourite activity. Only it couldn't be the act of dancing itself, could it? Not with an unskilled partner like his Master.

Granted, he was moving much better now that he had Sebastian to take control of their dance. His missteps dropped in number and he stopped staring at his feet all the time. The intensity of his blue gaze was a force of its own, and Sebastian found himself completely taken by it, almost breathless from the unrecognisable need to remain this close, to be closer still.

His Master, who by his own admission hated dancing, was surprisingly silent. Sebastian couldn't begin to guess what was going on in his head. He would love to, though. He would love to crack his skull open, to tear into it with his hands and dig through its contents until he found every answer he wanted to extract. His lord's blood was surprisingly intoxicating by itself, but if he actually plunged his hands into it, felt the warmth of his brain, heard the crack of his bone…

Sebastian shivered, the dark fog in his mind thickening. His grip around the boy's waist began to tighten, tighten some more; the claws broke through the gloves, glistening in possessive sharpness, and that was when Young Master's foot slipped again. For a second, he pressed closer to Sebastian's chest, and then he just… stayed there.

Maybe he wasn't the only one affected by whatever strange effects their contract was having on them, after all.

Carefully, reluctantly, Sebastian pulled away.

"That was better," he said, although his words rang false to him. His hand kept clasping the boy's, unwilling to let go, and this was the final straw. Exploring the sudden dancing connection had been amusing, but this had gone too far at this point.

"You are as ready as possible for the dance with Lady Elisabeth," Sebastian added. "I'm afraid if we keep practicing, your legs will give way before you have a chance to invite her."

It was perplexing that his lord had agreed to dance with him for such a long time as it was, especially considering his earlier blatant refusal. Extending this moment for longer would do nothing but exacerbate the already confusing situation.

Until Sebastian found out why their contract started acting out, maybe they shouldn't dance together again. No matter how much a part of him was already craving it.

SCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSC

Observing how his Master interacted with Lady Elisabeth was always an intriguing experience. The duality of his nature was never displayed better than in the company of this particular girl, and Sebastian found himself riveted.

In many ways, the boy despised her. She was everything he wasn't: loud, boisterous, and easily excitable. She was drawn to sunlight while he preferred to meld with the shadows; she wanted to share her happiness with everyone around her while he carried darkness with each step he took.

And yet, she was a ghost from happier, simpler times, and Ciel Phantomhive couldn't bring himself to taint that. So he was polite and obliging, even though Sebastian could see how desperately he wanted to retreat, and that brought him to a question: what would it take for the boy's mask to shatter? Was there anything Lady Elisabeth could do that would turn his forced smile into that ferocious snarl he wore so beautifully?

The more Sebastian observed, the more convinced he was that he was about to find out.

"Got you!" Lady Elisabeth crowed. "It's mine now!"

She jumped to the side with the Phantomhives' family ring in her hands, and there was it. His lord blanched, his eye darkening to a more lively and authentic colour.

"Lizzie," he said warningly. Where Sebastian heard danger, the girl heard nothing because her happy expression didn't fade.

"It's too big for you," she chattered, a huge grin on her lips. "The one I got is just the right size for you, and—"

"Give it back!"

Sebastian turned away to hide the twitch of a smile. Who would have thought? His real Master was finally making an appearance.

"Give that back right now, Elisabeth," the boy repeated. His voice grew lower and more intimidating, and Sebastian tilted his head, even more curious now. Perhaps this was the opportunity he'd been waiting for. The hours of dancing made his central plan fade to the background, but now that the haze disappeared, it gained clarity again.

Regaining trust. He'd done a series of small offerings already — if he got a chance to prove himself in a more grandiose way…

"I hate this ring!" Lady Elisabeth's scream was piercing enough to echo through the entire hall. She hurled the ring towards Young Master, and Sebastian acted instantly. A quiet snap of his fingers, and several pieces detached themselves from the ring, scattering all over the floor in a broken mass.

The look on his lord's face was priceless. His disbelief warred with fury briefly, and fury had won. He shook with it, and as he stared at the girl again, there was nothing but murder in his eyes.

What a breath-taking sight he made. Sebastian couldn't look away, enthralled and enchanted, and he almost missed the second the boy moved.

His speed was startling — not just for a human his age, but for humans in general. Even Sebastian barely noticed how he went from standing near the staircase to towering over Lady Elisabeth, his hand raised to deliver a precise strike.

Sebastian's initial plan was very simple: to repair the ring he'd broken and bring it to his Master. But this? This was so much better.

He flitted across the room, intercepting his lord a moment before he landed his blow.

"Young Master," he murmured calmly, with a layer of warning underneath. They boy turned his head, and when their eyes met, his gaze cleared.

"You have forgotten the cane we went to so much trouble to get," Sebastian continued. In one smooth movement, he put the cane into his Master's hand, which had been about to impair his reputation, and wrapped his own arm around his chest possessively.

He couldn't allow his touch to linger, not this time. With one squeeze, he stepped away, hoping it was enough to remind his lord of how carefully he had to tread. Alas, this didn't seem to work. The boy continued to stand frozen, his gaze wide, shocked and upset.

So Sebastian stepped in front of him, shielding him from Lady Elisabeth and focusing her attention on him. She was crying softly, and however tedious it was, she deserved an explanation.

"That ring was something incredibly important to our Master," he said gently. There was a note of gleeful amusement there, too, but he was certain she wouldn't catch it. "It was passed down through generations of the heads of Phantomhive family. It's truly one of a kind."

Her horrified gasp was the best gift he could give his lord in these conditions. If she felt guilty, she would never tell anyone what had almost taken place — the reputation of the Phantomhives would be intact, just as his lord would want.

"Please forgive my Master's rudeness," Sebastian finished gravelly, although he already knew this was redundant. Lady Elisabeth had the gentlest of souls, and she would undoubtedly blame herself above all.

"It was that important?" she whispered. "And I—"

Her eyes filled with fresh tears. She stumbled, trying to catch his Master's eye.

"Ciel, I—"

Sebastian considered himself well prepared for twists and turns that humanity could come up with, but when the boy walked to the window and flung the ring out of it, his jaw dropped open. This was… possibly the last thing he expected.

His Master never ceased to surprise him.

"Ciel, what are you doing?" Lady Elisabeth cried out.

"It doesn't matter. It was nothing but an old ring."

Again, not what he expected to hear.

Sebastian blinked and straightened when the boy suddenly faced him, his expression severe, his stare confident.

"Even without it, I am the head of the Phantomhive family," he announced clearly. The quiet fierceness of his words made them starker. He was conveying a message of a sort, and not to everyone — to Sebastian in particular. He didn't break the eye contact even for a blink.

Slowly, Sebastian smiled.

Yes. Yes, he got the message. His Master had been evolving into a truly formidable creature that had no rivals. He might have clung to the physical attributes proving his status before, but now he'd overgrown them. He didn't need the ring to be the head of the Phantomhive lineage — all he required was himself. His personality spoke for itself now, and there wasn't a person in the underworld who wouldn't know that.

Still… that ring was beautiful. Its blue diamond complimented his Master's eyes, and Sebastian liked the sight of it decorating his slim, elegant finger.

As soon as their guest left, he would locate and repair it. And then, hopefully, the prize he was striving for would be his, and he and his Master would finally re-establish their routine.

SCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSCSC

For the rest of the evening, Young Master behaved admirably. He paid utmost attention to Lady Elisabeth, and a slight smile didn't leave his face for hours. It was fake, with grimness brimming beneath, but no one apart from Sebastian could see it.

He slipped away at some point to find the ring in the darkness. It was lying under one of the bushes, glistening dimly, and Sebastian closed his fist over it before calling on his energy.

Creating things with demonic powers rarely went well. They were fragile and twisted, sometimes beyond recognition. But repairing things, particularly the ones he'd broken himself? Emulating the properties he could see and feel? This was better.

And so, with some effort, the circle of the ring became whole again. The diamond took longer, but in the end, it responded too, and the blue gem flared in its wholesome glory.

It was ready.

After Lady Elisabeth left with Grell, Sebastian fussed over his Master, preparing him for bed. With the need to pretend gone, the boy's face was blank now, and every time he spoke, his voice came out low and tired.

This was perfect. A perfect chance to complete the task and win the game the boy didn't know they were playing.

"It's an important memento to you, is it not?" Sebastian asked as he knelt, wrapping his hands around his lord's. "Yet you've put on a façade like that in front of Lady Elisabeth…"

Young Master blinked at him, probably confused. He didn't even sense the weight of the ring Sebastian had slipped onto his finger, and when he did, his sharp intake of breath said it all. He raised his head, his eye wide, with emotion so genuine that Sebastian couldn't help smiling in response.

"It is only natural for a butler of the Phantomhives to be able to do this," he murmured softly. There was no need for it now, but he still held his Master's hand, strangely reluctant to let go. "This ring is something that exists for the sole purpose of being on your finger. Please take care of it."

It was a quiet and almost intimate moment — a perfect setting for the last step in his quest. Everything seemed to be working exactly as he hoped because the look on the boy's face was as guileless and open as it could ever be.

"True," he said quietly. Contrary to Sebastian's expectations, though, he didn't sound happy. His voice had a strange melancholy to it, and Sebastian released his hand, disconcerted. What could he be thinking of now? The repaired ring was a gift. It was meant to put a smile on his face, not this expression of hopeless gloom.

When he spoke, it was even bleaker.

"This ring has witnessed the death of its master time and again. My grandfather's, my father's…" his lord paused briefly. Uncertain why he was talking about death, Sebastian removed his eye-patch, but the next words made him freeze. "Eventually, this ring will observe my death, too."

That was… true, in a way. He'd never considered the ring in this context — even now, it seemed perplexing, but from the perspective of the odd way in which his Master was thinking, it made sense. The symbol of the Phantomhives might mean glory, but it also meant inevitable death. Everyone wearing it faced their end at some point, and one day, Ciel Phantomhive would as well. The ring was a silent witness to dozens of deaths of his ancestors, and even if he hadn't made the contract with a demon, he would have still followed their lead.

It was expected. It was logical. It was desirable, even, because Sebastian was going to be the one to end his life — the day it happened would be the day he tasted the most delicious of meals in his entire existence. And yet…

And yet he didn't like thinking about it. His body stiffened with this knowledge, his jaw clenching on its own accord.

Both in Hell and in the human realm, things were simple. Death meant nourishment. It meant the end of the contract and the start of freedom that would last for as long as he wished until it, too, became boring, pushing him into seeking another Master.

But when he tried to imagine it, it didn't feel like he wanted freedom. Not yet. Strange. He'd spent years with Ciel Phantomhive — this was longer than the duration of most demonic contracts, but he remained as dedicated to it as he had been after first sensing this unique soul. In fact, probably more so now.

These thoughts disturbed him. They were curious, and Sebastian found curious things captivating, but he was coming to a slow realisation that maybe there was such thing as too much curiosity. Right now, he would prefer for his reactions and thought processes to go back to normal — he wanted something familiar, something he could explain to himself. Not this, whatever this was.

He tucked his lord in, murmuring meaningless words, took the candelabra and hastened to leave the room. Before he reached the door, though, the boy's voice stopped him.

"Sebastian… Stay with me. Until I fall asleep."

No. This was not what he…

Sebastian swallowed a frustrated growl. Yesterday, he would have delighted in being asked to stay. He won, it was apparent now — Young Master was willing to trust and confide in him again. At this particular moment, though, this was the last thing he needed. Wanted? Probably. But perhaps what he wanted and what he needed were two very different things.

"My, my," Sebastian drawled mockingly. "Are you showing me your weak side?"

The boy flinched, burrowing deeper into his pillow.

"It's a simple order," he muttered. If he was this insistent on not being alone, then Sebastian's plan had worked even better than he'd thought it would. And that… that gave him power.

His lips parted in an exultant smile, and he moved back towards the bed, kneeling next to it.

"I will be by your side no matter where that may be," he promised gravelly. "Until the very end."

Because yes, the end would come. Sebastian would deliver it to his Master single-handedly, and whatever confusion he faced along the way, whatever obstacles rose on his path, they would be temporary. None of it was going to matter once their contract was fulfilled.

Intriguing or not, Ciel Phantomhive was but a human. Years spent with him might be bright, but the moment of devouring his soul would be brighter. That was what Sebastian strived to achieve, and he held all the power he needed to make it happen. His lord had given it to him willingly.

He didn't want think about this boy dying because his soul wasn't ready yet. It could become so much more alluring with time. This was the perfect answer that explained his otherwise unexplainable reactions.

Sebastian held this thought close as he sat there, waiting for Young Master to fall asleep. As soon as the familiar heartbeat slowed, he stood up and walked out, closing the door behind himself quietly… and then stopping, still gripping the handle.

He didn't want to leave. There was a stubborn reluctance in him, a knot of cutting emotions that rooted him to his spot.

His lord throwing his ring away, staring right at him and proclaiming that he didn't need it to be the head of the Phantomhives. Strong, confident, and proud.

And his lord several hours later, tiny in his huge bed, asking him to stay. Open, vulnerable, and willing to trust again.

Such a conundrum. It was no wonder Sebastian felt so off balance at times. What concerned him most was that he found both displays endearing in two completely different ways, and this shouldn't even be possible. Weakness and vulnerability were never attractive, not on anyone. Yet still…

No one was around. No one was watching, and so he wavered, covering his face with his hand and closing his eyes tiredly, trying to focus.

This wild shifting of emotions was exhausting. He went from confidence to uncertainty and back, and for the first time in many decades, he felt an almost overpowering urge to sleep. But…

But nothing. If things got complicated, he merely had to make them simple again. He was a demon. He served a Master. Once their contract ended, he would crush him and consume his soul; then he would move on, and in several centuries, the today's confusion would be a distant, amusing memory.

A small chuckle escaped his throat. Slowly, Sebastian removed his hand, and when he straightened, he was pleased to note that the urge to re-enter the boy's room vanished.

A demon. A master. A contract with an end-date. Nothing more.

Everything could be as simple as he made it.

Replies to comments:

James Birdsong and Manon, thank you both very much as always!)

Crockett Rocket, thank you, I'm so glad you enjoyed this chapter! Seeing your comments always makes me happy. I think Pluto was added to the photo for the benefit of the servants: it sure made the situation confusing. Sebastian focused his camera on Ciel, so I believe we saw Ciel's most important person. There is also the fact that non-real Sebastian on the photo is standing next to him and looking at him, not at Pluto, so the photo is Ciel's — it's a reflection of his thoughts and feelings. This is how I always read that scene and why I love it so much))

Kapivara, thank you so much, I'm honored that you chose to comment in the first place! I'm happy you liked this chapter. I agree, I also love Ciel tormenting Sebastian :D Our demon deserves it sometimes.

The-lizard-ling, thanks so much, I'm happy you liked this chapter!)) Sebastian's heart definitely took a hit. He's already struggling with so many feelings, and Ciel reducing him to practically nothing is a novel experience that he hates. To say that he's going to be furious is to say nothing, and we'll see it in the chapter with his POV along with the follow-up.

Annesley was a gift for Ciel indeed, but we'll see more about it from Sebastian's side. Lau definitely has some ideas about Sebastian, as this new chapter probably demonstrated, but honestly, I myself am not sure what conclusions he's come to :D He's an odd man. Thank you again, hearing from you was a pleasure!

Paolfijoshi, thank you so much! Yeah, Sebastian's POV is getting a bit creepy now that his feelings for Ciel progress, and they'll probably get even darker with time. But, well, Sebaciel is a dark ship even when they are eons away from becoming a couple!

Guest 1, haha, true! Ciel is a very worthy opponent and Sebastian is right to be wary of him. He's never seen anyone like this in his entire life, and he'll only get more addicted with time.

UnluckyRabbit, thank you so very much for your as always amazing comment! I'm always so pleased to get notifications from you. I'll be honest, seeing you discuss your favorite moments was a real pleasure, and I loved it both the first time I read your comment and now that I re-read it again. Poor Sebastian, Ciel is definitely making him lose all his control! And in this chapter in particular, Sebastian's feelings take over. I can't wait to write this chapter from his POV, too, there is a lot going on in his head.

I'm so happy you enjoyed Ciel going into shock from a blow of having his feelings exposed and then attacking with double vengeance :D I even felt a little bad for Sebastian, I think Ciel has overdone himself here. But it definitely made Sebastian's pull toward him flare even brighter. It'll be fun to describe him going to Hell and trying to find a demon who he thinks tried to take his Master from him, insane as this Master is. Thank you again, I treasure your comments!

Lorie2018, finally here :D

Roturier, thank you so much and sorry for the long wait( 2021 was brutal for me, I got COVID and lost 3 loved ones, including my young cousin. I really hope 2022 will be kinder.

Guest 2, ah, sorry, I'm following the anime, so I'll have to follow its arcs about Abberline and the Queen! At least she will indeed get what's coming.

EveningReader, thank you so much! Their games is one of my most favorite things in canon, so I take great pleasure in exploring them here as well))

RoCeGo01, thank you, I'm so happy you chose to try reading this story! Sorry for the lengthy wait and I hope you'll enjoy the update!

La Traductrice Fr, haha, thank you, and I will continue it for sure! I love these boys.