Music I listened to while writing : Heat Wave, House of Cards OST

Sebastian's Room

They walked down the corridor leading to the butler's room. A heavy silence had enveloped them since they had left the main salon.

The Earl walked ahead, his butler following closely behind. He didn't know why, but Sebastian's presence just behind him disturbed him.

For three years, he had grown accustomed to the constant company of the demon, to their venomous exchanges as much as their shared silences. Yet, he felt different after the two days spent in his absence. Once again, Ciel felt all the sensations of his damnation as if he were discovering them for the first time. He knew the butler's eyes were fixed on him and that those coppery eyes focused solely on his person. He felt again that aura of darkness emanating from Sebastian, that malevolent shadow that enveloped and cloaked the young Earl like a mantle.

As they reached the door to the room, Ciel stopped and turned toward his butler. Sebastian halted his steps, leaving a respectful distance between himself and the Earl.

"Is something troubling you, Young Master?" the demon inquired.

"We searched your room," Ciel replied, "and it seems that you have disobeyed my orders."

Sebastian raised his eyebrows, feigning innocence, but a slight smile was already playing on his lips.

Ciel brusquely opened the door to the room, and meows could be heard.

"I told you not to let any cats into the manor," the Earl grumbled, pointing to the furballs that had gathered on the single bed in the room.

The demon's face lit up at the sight of the feline spectacle. Then he turned toward his young master, not losing his smile.

"You have made my room a privileged place where I can indulge in certain pleasures," he explained in his silky voice, "and feline company is precious to me. But do not be mistaken, Young Master, I only let them in to protect them from the storm. When the weather clears, I will put them back outside."
Ciel clicked his tongue in frustration, a sign of annoyance that Sebastian knew all too well. Ignoring him, Sebastian entered the room and headed for the wardrobe. He pulled out one of his shirts and rubbed his hands over it, imprinting it with his scent, then threw it on the ground in the farthest corner of the room. The kittens immediately rushed to snuggle up and play with the precious fabric.

Visibly pleased, Sebastian diverted his adoring eyes to focus on his young master, who had remained in the doorway.

"You can come in, Young Master. They won't move. Welcome to the Devil's lair," he joked, bowing slightly to the Earl, who greeted his words with a sigh of exasperation before heading toward the desk chair.

"I suppose you'll have to keep that ridiculous bandage around your head," Ciel asked as he sat down.

"Unless we find an explanation for the disappearance of my injury, I'm afraid I'll be forced to," Sebastian replied with a smile.

The demon opened a few drawers and pulled out a full butler's uniform, which he carefully laid on the bed. Ignoring his master, he took off his damp jacket and opened his overcoat. Ciel watched as he began to unbutton his shirt, his long, deft fingers moving down the row of buttons. The fabric slid down his arms, and despite the useless bandages the butler had wrapped around his chest to feign injury, the Earl felt heat rise to his cheeks at the sight of his servant's radiant near-nudity, and he quickly averted his gaze, deeply embarrassed.

"You could have warned me you intended to undress," Ciel said, fixing his eyes on the desk, focusing all his attention on the polished wood. "Have you no modesty?"

"My apologies, Young Master," the butler replied as he untied the bandages and tossed them to the floor with the rest of his clothing. "I didn't think you'd still be embarrassed at the sight of a man's body."

Despite the Earl's perfect composure, the demon distinctly discerned the acceleration of his heart, whose rhythm had become quite noisy, as well as the faint rosy tint that colored the boy's neck, who refused to meet his eyes.

"Nothing escapes you, it seems," Ciel finally said, his voice unshaken despite the hint of disdain brought on by the demon's impertinence.

Memories, intimate and indecent, already clouded his mind, but he quickly pushed them away, focusing on the present moment.

"Not when it concerns you," Sebastian murmured.

"Stop playing this game," the Earl snapped, glancing at him, relieved to see that he was decent again. "Tell me what you know."

Sebastian sighed, disappointed to end their acidic exchanges so quickly, and moved toward the mirror on the wall.

"Snake is at an inn about fifteen kilometers from the manor," he began, wrapping his head in a clean bandage. "Since he failed to eliminate you, there's a good chance he'll return."

"You think he'll attack tonight?" asked Ciel, struggling to contain his anxiety. Sebastian could likely protect him, but he wasn't alone in this manor, and another death on his property would be quite damaging to his reputation.

"I doubt it. But he seeks revenge, and his fury is great," Sebastian continued, completely unbothered. "After all, you took his 'family' from him, and solitude is a painful thing for him. But don't worry, he won't attack if he's alone. He'll wait before coming back."

Ciel shivered.

"You saw him?" he asked, his throat tight.

He hadn't felt fear since the demon had appeared and taken his side. That feeling had become a word devoid of depth and meaning the moment he'd bargained away his soul. But since Sebastian's "death," a sudden fear had started to creep over him, and he already despised this growing terror. The dread rising in his stomach, which he tried to stifle, was entirely unfamiliar to him. And in Sebastian's absence, only Arthur's arms had driven the fear from his body, if only for a brief moment of passion.

"He was there, indeed. I spotted him before coming to meet you," replied Sebastian, carefully inspecting his reflection in the mirror, ever meticulous about the perfection of his attire. "He didn't notice me. I'm not even sure he knows I survived his attack."

The demon tightened his tie slightly, and, seeming satisfied, he left the mirror to approach Ciel.

"I must admit, he surprised me, Young Master," he confessed. "I didn't expect him to resurface so quickly. He's quite detestable."

"But I don't understand," Ciel interrupted, turning his gaze away from his butler. Lost in deep thought, he absentmindedly rubbed his pale finger against his chin. "Phelps is dead because Snake placed a snake in my room, intending to kill me. We've understood that. And he attacked you because he... he's insane and violent. But what did Lord Siemens have to do with this?"

"I have my theory on that, Young Master," Sebastian said. "But to be sure, I'll wait until my owl reaches its destination."

"By the way, who did you send that bird to?" Ciel asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Patience, Young Master," Sebastian replied, placing a mischievous finger on his lips. "If I reveal all my tricks for solving this dangerous affair, the game will become dreadfully boring."

Ciel sighed, running his fine fingers through his silky hair, pushing the strands back. He seemed exhausted, and Sebastian wondered if his health had suffered from his absence and the recent events. His human face lost all its amused expression, and a worried shadow darkened his features. He had to be cautious. It would be foolish for Ciel to succumb to an ailment brought on by his own body.

"The situation is already more than troublesome," the boy explained, touching his eyelid, as if the coolness of his fingers could help clear his thoughts. "I still don't know how to explain to the Queen that one of her close associates – and, moreover, my guest of honor at a party Her Majesty requested I organize – has been killed under my roof. As well as the heir of a major trading company... My reputation is at risk, Sebastian. And that, I cannot tolerate."

"I'm aware of that, Young Master,"Sebastian said, placing his right hand over his heart before bowing slightly. "And I will do everything in my power to get you out of this mess."

"I thought Lord Randall would allow all the guests to leave the manor," Ciel said, standing up and dusting off his blue suit. "That would have left us free to solve this mystery without having to explain ourselves. Arthur is beginning to grow suspicious..."

"'Arthur' is an intelligent man," Sebastian remarked, smiling, his gaze never leaving the blue-clad figure that circled the bed to approach him. "And 'Arthur' cares for you a great deal."

Ciel stopped and sighed in annoyance. He was about to retort, but Sebastian continued:

"Young Arthur has built a bright future in his young novelist's mind."

The demon's voice was mocking, tinged with a faint trace of indulgent contempt.

"He has made you his muse and placed you on a sumptuous pedestal where you don't belong. It's his passion for you that's driven him to imagine ever more fantastic hypotheses to exonerate you from the first murder, even when all human rationality would condemn you. It was very clever of you to surround yourself with such an ally."

The demon paused and fixed his flaming eyes on Ciel's cold one. The Earl remained impassive, scrutinizing the demon closely.

"But now, young master, he is dangerous. He is far too perceptive for your safety."

"I know Arthur's infatuation with me is ridiculous," the young Earl reluctantly said, as if the subject was deeply unpleasant to him. "Yet his voice was clear and low. He is so innocent... But he is intelligent. A man as rational as him should not be inclined to believe in the supernatural."

The Earl fell silent, seeming to search for the right words. He bit his lip slightly, almost imperceptibly, but this unusual gesture did not escape the demon, who narrowed his eyes, where a distilled animosity glimmered.

"But you're right," the boy finally continued. "He's beginning to think that the killer isn't an ordinary man and that this being is after us... And if he convinces himself, he'll conclude what he already suspects... that you are not human. But for now, he only has doubts, merely brushing against wild possibilities."

"And if he figures it out"? the butler inquired, pressing on, drinking in every one of his master's reactions, which he found new, interesting, but also extremely vexing.

"Then the world will have to do without a talented writer," Ciel declared, his throat dry, his eye cold, as he drained his body of the taste of his humanity.

His voice was strong, but the words seemed to hurt him. He silently cursed himself for his sudden weakness, then breathed gently, letting air flow into his chest as he focused on his heartbeat.

He didn't need Arthur, Sebastian was there. Nothing mattered, except his desire for revenge and his stubborn hatred.

Gathering his will, draining his soul, he felt his emotions leave him, leaving behind only a cold, hard shell.

"If he becomes too curious, we will get rid of him. I don't have time to dwell on the sentimentalities of a stranger."

"Sentimentalities? I think his affection for you is real," the demon said, though a pleased smile was already painted on his face.

"I couldn't care less," Ciel objected as he headed for the door, before abruptly turning back toward the butler. "If he becomes a threat, kill him!"

And the demon bowed.

"Yes, my Lord."

And outside, thunder rumbled in a dark sky.

In the main salon

Seated at the small table in the salon, where documents, sketches, and scattered notes piled up, Arthur was discussing with Abberline and Charles Gray. The white butler stood behind the inspector's chair, observing the notes Abberline was jotting down in a small leather-bound notebook, following the comments murmured by Arthur. The other guests, it seemed, had left the room to join the billiard room, where cheerful clamor could be heard.

"At least they're keeping busy,"Ciel thought, relieved not to have to face all the heads he had been hosting for the past few days in his manor.

Upon seeing the pair that had entered the salon, the three men fell silent and stood, bowing to their host. Ciel approached, reassured by the presence of Sebastian, who walked at his heels. He felt safe again, and the latent feeling of powerlessness had left his chest. Filled with impertinence, he settled into his armchair at the end of the small table. He gestured nonchalantly for them to sit, which they did, then rested his elbow on the arm of the chair to prop his cheek against his fist. Sebastian stood at his right, where he belonged.

"I suppose you have a few questions to ask Sebastian now that he's rested and decent," the Earl suggested.

The three men exchanged glances, as if unsure where to begin. The Earl observed them, but his eyes lingered on Arthur. He traced the firm line of his jaw and the tender curve of his lips, whose softness and indulgence he knew, and the dangerous intelligence that sparkled in his eyes. He was undoubtedly attractive. He had lost the timid demeanor and the humble, evasive gaze he had worn upon his arrival. A passion for justice and newfound determination animated this new man.

Pulling the young Earl out of his contemplative thoughts, Charles Gray intervened:

"You said the killer wasn't among us, but could you describe him?" Gray asked, who was standing behind the sofa, a white-gloved hand resting on the hilt of his sword, which never left his side.

"A description..." Sebastian said, thoughtful, looking up at the ceiling. "Yes, I think that's possible."

"Wait!"

Ciel jumped at the sound of Abberline's voice, who was rummaging agitatedly through the documents scattered on the table.

"What are you doing?" Charles asked, impatient.

"I'm fairly skilled at drawing," the inspector said, grabbing a blank sheet of paper and a pencil. "Perhaps I could sketch the criminal's portrait based on your description, which would make finding him easier."

"That's extremely clever, Frederick!" Arthur exclaimed.

"Really?" Abberline said, straightening in his seat. "I'm not sure it will be very effective..."

"Let's try," Ciel said, turning to his butler. "Sebastian, try to give a precise description of the criminal's face. Don't overlook any details."

"Very well, young master," the butler replied.

The demon seemed to think for a moment, then began to recite without hesitation:

"He was a man of around 25 years old, with light, almost graying hair. Shorter at the front, his tangled locks fell over his eyes and his pale, oval face. His eyes are oblong, and his irises are gray. The bridge of his nose is straight and fine, and his upper lip is slightly thicker than the lower. Scaly scars mar an otherwise fairly handsome face, across his forehead and cheeks, as well as his chest. He wears dark trousers, topped with a tunic striped with black and white bands. Lastly, he has a short, high-collared jacket fastened by straps across the chest and small buckles around the neck."

Sebastian fell silent, and only the sound of the pencil scratching across the page broke the sudden silence, as Abberline worked to render the most accurate likeness.

Ciel let out a soft sigh at the end of Sebastian's speech. He understood. The butler was ensuring that Snake would take the blame for all the crimes committed in his home. The former circus member would be an ideal culprit to present to the Queen, to soothe her anger. This time, Ciel would need to submit a report and deliver a criminal to be executed. The matter couldn't be covered up. Snake would be easy enough to catch, whereas the other...

He felt inquisitive eyes scrutinizing him and looked up to meet Arthur's gaze. The young writer was watching him intently, but no emotion showed on his masculine features. Despite the intensity of the look, Ciel continued to hold it, engaging in a silent and haughty duel. The young writer sat straight, his back fully resting against the chair's backrest, with both elbows firmly planted on the armrests. Ciel wondered when Arthur had gained such a confident posture, and a sudden arrogance whispered to him that he was the cause, but he pushed the thought away. He wanted to distance himself from this man before his order was carried out.

Breaking the stare, Arthur addressed the butler:

"You were able to see such details of the killer during your attack?" Arthur asked. "That's surprising, Mr. Sebastian."

Ciel sighed slightly, but already his mind was silently screaming at Arthur to stop. He wished the doctor could hear it.

"You should thank the heavens for granting me such a sharp faculty of observation," the butler replied, an amused yet disdainful smile playing on his lips.

Arthur seemed on the verge of retorting, but the inspector cut him off:

"I'm finished!"

They crowded behind Abberline's chair and examined the drawing. The sketch resembled Snake so much that Ciel felt a shiver of dread run down his spine.

"What do you think? Is this the killer?" Charles Gray asked, turning to Sebastian.

"Yes, that's him. You're very talented, Mr. Abberline."

"I'm no artist, I lack taste, but I think this kind of portrait could greatly aid police investigations and give a concrete image of the suspects we're searching for. I should perhaps mention it to Lord Randall when I return to London," he said, admiring his "masterpiece."

"He's horribly disfigured," Arthur observed. "It almost looks like snake scales..."

"Well, now we know what he looks like," Charles Gray interrupted. "Now the question is: how do we track him down? I suggest we organize some sort of manhunt to capture him. We'll form several groups to search the manor and—"

"That would be pointless."

Charles turned toward the butler who had interrupted him.

"He's left the manor," Sebastian explained quietly, weighing each word. "But he will return soon, I'm sure of it. And when he does, we'll be ready to welcome him... warmly."

"But how..." Abberline began.

"So, you actually know the killer?" Arthur interrupted suddenly, his patience wearing thin. "And you know his current whereabouts and his actions?"

Sebastian gauged him, losing none of his composure or posture, as if Arthur's accusatory words flowed over him without effect.

"Indeed, Mr. Conan Doyle. However, I can't tell you anything at the moment. You must trust me."

"Trust?" Arthur spat, his voice sharp as he stood.

He cast his insolent gaze between Sebastian and Ciel, who remained seated and impassive.

"Trust... Why does it feel like that word means nothing coming from your mouth? Do you even know what trust is? What proof of your good faith have you given us since your return?"

"Arthur..." Abberline intervened, placing a firm hand on his friend, trying to calm him, but Arthur shook him off.

"Why keep us in the dark? We are all in danger here, and we rely on one another. The least you could do is tell us who is threatening us and whom we must fight."

Ciel looked at the two men standing face to face. They were about the same height, but at the thought that Sebastian possessed the power to crush the writer's skull with a single finger, the boy shuddered. Life seemed insignificant, so fragile when Sebastian was by his side.

"I understand your bitterness, Mr. Conan Doyle," the demon said, his voice ever steady. "The situation is stressful, and you're increasingly feeling trapped. But I can assure you that if you trust me—or at least act on my advice—you will leave this manor alive, and you will return to your wife and baby."

Arthur froze, his face losing its hardness, and his mouth parted without a sound escaping. He turned to Ciel, but the boy didn't meet his gaze. His attention remained on Sebastian as the butler's words became clear in his mind.

Ciel felt shame redden his cheeks, a sign of weakness visible to the demon, who silently humiliated him. His first lover... married and a father. And his butler knew. It was so dishonorable! No one had pushed him into the writer's arms, and he had no particular expectations. But why did he feel betrayed? By omission? Or by the lie of desire that had made him believe the man holding him was his? A bitter taste weighed on his tongue, and he swallowed with difficulty, pushing back the rising humiliation.

"We all want to go home and reunite with our loved ones," Charles added. "If you have a plan, I'm listening, Mr. Sebastian."

The butler broke his gaze from his master.

"I will give you instructions tomorrow. I still need to check a few things before then."

"But why would the killer return?" Abberline asked. "Does he want to eliminate all of us?"

"His motivations are still unclear," Sebastian replied. "Give me some time, and you'll have answers."

"Does this killer have something to do with the Phantomhives and the secret missions of the Queen's 'watchdog'?"

It was Arthur's voice, and Sebastian turned to the writer, who had resumed his seat. He was distractedly pulling at his dark locks, deep in thought.

"A mission that went wrong, perhaps?" he continued, watching the reactions of the Earl and his butler.

Though Sebastian remained stoically still, Ciel's slight flinch did not escape him, and a faint smile of triumph spread across his lips. The young boy took a slow breath, desperately trying to calm his heart. That wretched writer was far too perceptive!

"The baron Kelvin affair..." Charles Gray murmured, lost in thought.

"Oh no..."

Ciel stood abruptly, drawing all eyes to his stature.

"That's enough," he declared. "Sebastian will give you the details of the plan tomorrow. But that's enough for tonight. Dinner will be served shortly. We should join the other guests and take the opportunity to show them the portrait drawn by Inspector Abberline. Sebastian, I believe the servants are having some trouble in the kitchen. I would like you to handle it."

"Yes, young master," the butler said, watching as the guests rose and followed their master to leave the room.

How had it happened?

A minute earlier, they were walking down the hallway, heading towards the room where the guests had gathered to play cards, with Charles Gray and Abberline leading the way. And Ciel didn't know how, but in a split second, a strong hand had grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him back. He found himself pinned, trapped between the hallway wall and Arthur's body.

His breath caught when he saw the passionate face looming over him. The writer's warm breath brushed against his cheeks while dark, feverish eyes intensely sought out his gaze. Ciel cursed this indecent proximity. He swallowed painfully, almost disgusted by the intrusion of this man, always too close for his liking and who allowed himself more than was permitted. He was so tall. And it made Ciel feel so fragile and powerless that it made him nauseous.

"You're getting into very bad habits, Arthur," Ciel articulated, ignoring the sudden warmth flooding him.

"Yes, I'm insolent, I admit it," the writer replied. "And you, you're a liar."

Shocked, Ciel took a sharp, indignant breath to reply, but Arthur continued:

"You and your butler are having fun, taking us for fools. Let me speak!"

He silenced the young man who had tried to interrupt him, but the Earl kept his fierce gaze fixed on him as he added:

"Yesterday, you told me that you were in a delicate position with the Queen because you had done something terrible, and you were forced to organize this party due to a mission that had upset Her Majesty. And I think—no!... I'm sure that the killer, the one Abberline drew, is linked to that failure!"

"So be it!" Ciel snapped. "You might be right. Bravo, Mr. Detective, you're on the right track. But even if it's true, what difference does it make to you? The killer will be brought to justice, whether you know his name or not. I don't see why you're so fixated!"

"Because you're lying to me! I feel like a puppet without will, and you're pulling the invisible strings. And I hate that! You're trying to manipulate us to hide the truth. Because if this killer is tied to the case you botched, that still doesn't explain everything happening here. It completely lacks coherence and logic!"

"What are you rambling about?" Ciel asked, struggling to keep his voice low to avoid drawing the attention of the other guests in the nearby room, whose door he was watching. But he felt on edge.

"This killer, the one from the portrait, he's after you, isn't he?"

But he didn't wait for Ciel's answer.

"He wants to kill you for revenge over what happened during the mission. That gives us the motive, and it explains Phelps' murder, who was in your room. Maybe even Sebastian's attack."

"Yes, that's true," Ciel acknowledged. "So what else are you looking for?"

"But Lord Siemens?"

Ciel paled.

"Who killed him, and why? It's absurd, he shouldn't have died. There's something you're not telling me."

"Stop it, Arthur…" the young earl threatened.

A deep scratch tore at the boy's heart, for he now knew that Arthur would never give up on uncovering the truth. He was going to die...

"There's another killer," the writer finally said, "the one who enters locked rooms."

"For heaven's sake, Arthur, shut up, do you hear? Shut up!"

Arthur stopped, surprised, for Ciel had shouted, or at least his voice had seemed very loud in the silence now suffocating them.

"Don't you see that I'm trying to save you? Don't you see that with every word you speak, you're signing your death warrant?"

The boy buried his head in his hands, trying to calm himself.

"For God's sake, stop thinking about this case. Sebastian and I will take care of everything. Just focus on staying alive. Far from me."

"What are you talking about?"

"You're caught in the middle of a twisted plot that you cannot and must not understand," Ciel said sincerely. "Stay out of the game and let Sebastian handle it."

"Sebastian," he spat, "what does he have that we don't, for you to show him such blind faith?"

"He's... he... he's reliable. And he'll do anything for me."

Ciel hadn't found simpler or clumsier words to describe his butler. Because he didn't trust him, he had no faith in him. But he knew that Sebastian had the power and strength he lacked to seal his fate. He was the unique and perfect force that had lifted him from the darkness. Even if, to him, Ciel was just the signatory of a demonic contract, even if he desired only to devour his soul, the boy couldn't imagine being separated from those fiery copper eyes that looked at him with a confusing ardor mixed with contempt and indulgence.

The demon was the key piece of his dark army,his black knight.

It was Arthur's hand that pulled him out of his thoughts. It brushed back the strands of hair that had fallen over his face, gently tucking the longer ones behind his ears.

Under that touch, Ciel realized once again that Arthur was standing in front of him, but his shoulders had slumped, and he looked exhausted.

"Why do I feel like I'm losing a battle in a war I know nothing about?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper.

"If that's how you feel, you should surrender," Ciel said, his throat dry, as he wrapped his arms around his body as if to shield himself from Arthur's words.

"That's not in my nature."

He let his hand glide down the Earl's face to gently stroke the boy's trembling, moist lips.

Ciel knew that Arthur wanted to kiss him, the moment the writer's eyes lingered languidly on his mouth. He would have liked to be comforted by his soft lips and plunge again into that wild sensuality where he could forget everything.

Yet, when Arthur moved closer to his face, Ciel quickly turned away and gently placed both hands on his chest, forcing him to step back. He pointedly ignored the hurt expression that darkened the writer's face and moved away from the wall.

"Go back to your wife, Arthur."

And he walked away without looking back.

"And you to your butler's arms…" Arthur murmured bitterly.

But Ciel heard it clearly and found those words absurd.

Bedroom at Phantomhive Manor

Ciel looked around the bedroom he had just entered, the room where he had slept for the past two days, and sighed. He had wished to sleep in his own room, as the corpses had left the house and Snake would not be returning that night.

Sebastian had wanted to clean the room to restore it to its original state—and Ciel had almost hoped that the butler would burn the sheets in which Phelps had died—but Abberline had insisted that the crime scenes should not be disturbed.

Additionally, Arthur had argued that it wouldn't be wise, and the inspector shared his opinion, much to Ciel's dismay. Now that the writer knew that the young Earl was the killer's main target, he had become unbearably protective. And of course, they would share the same bed once again, due to the lack of available rooms. The thought of being alone in a room with the young novelist made Ciel uncomfortable.

He turned to the butler, who had entered the room behind him. Sebastian placed the Earl's nightshirt on the bed, then approached the boy and slid his fingers under the collar of his master's jacket to remove it. The boy's eyes followed the demon's deceptively human movements. He watched as Sebastian's gloved fingers skillfully traveled along the buttons of his shirt, revealing skin that meant nothing to him, and slid the fabric down his arms, exposing shoulders whose softness he could not comprehend.

A sudden unease swelled in the young boy's chest as he thought about how the "man" kneeling before him felt nothing, utterly indifferent to what his fingers touched and what his eyes saw. He was merely the sum of his desire and his hunger for the boy's soul.

"You are in love with sin," declared Sebastian, cutting through Ciel's thoughts.

He stood up and folded the shirt, leaving the young man bare-chested. Ciel shamefully realized that marks of desire left by his lover's mouth covered his chest and most likely his throat as well.

"You are losing your innocence in adultery, against Arthur's wife and Lady Elizabeth. Solitude is a poor counselor."

"I was wondering why you hadn't commented on this earlier," Ciel replied, covering his body with his arms, a gesture of modesty that was unnecessary, as Sebastian knew his curves. "You took great pleasure in embarrassing me earlier. But adultery against Elizabeth? Don't be ridiculous. It's not as if Lizzy and I could ever have a future together. I don't have a future."

"Indeed," the butler simply replied.

"You knew Arthur was married?" Ciel inquired.

"He has been married for four years," explained Sebastian, who knelt again, opened the Earl's trousers, and slid them down his slender legs, "to a young woman named Louisa Hawkins. I learned of it when I searched for addresses to send the invitations. They are a very discreet couple because his wife is ill, almost dying. Tuberculosis is ravaging her lungs, and he must have known it when he married her."

Sebastian stood and picked up the nightshirt from the bed before returning to his master.

"That's so cowardly and convenient," Ciel said distractedly, "to make vows of love to someone who's going to die."

The butler paused, raising his eyebrows at the Earl's comment, who continued while raising his arms for Sebastian to slip on his shirt:

"The difficulty of marriage is its duration and the weariness of years that kills passion. Arthur took no risk when he made his vows, knowing he wouldn't have to deal with his wife for long and that he could continue his life afterward. A passing love for a fleeting vow—it's not a real vow. It's just a temporary contract."

"Really?" asked Sebastian, kneeling before the boy to button the shirt. "Yet it takes great courage to love someone who is going to die."

Ciel froze, surprised by this remark that resonated in him like a painful impulse. He looked down at the man at his feet, who spoke in a soft voice without looking at him:

"To adore someone you're going to lose and know that you will be the one left to endure the unbearable pain of loss and absence. And despite that, to still desire to say the words of the vow that seals the pact, that takes great courage."

He fastened the last button and looked up at his master, who was staring at him, then murmured:

"A contract, whatever its form, can be sacred even if it isn't eternal."

Ciel had no response. And to the demon's great surprise, the Earl placed trembling fingers on his cheek. His hand was hesitant and gentle, as one touches a wild animal, with the desire to hold it while not wanting to frighten it. Sebastian pressed his face a little more against the timid fingers that dared to caress him for the first time.

"I thought you were dead," the boy whispered, as though sharing an intimate secret. "I doubted," he added, bringing the fingers that touched his demon to his eyepatch. "I didn't even have the courage to check if the seal was still there.

He placed his hands on the knot and pulled at the strings, freeing his eye.

"Look, it's still there, isn't it? And you're real?"

"What kind of question is that, Young Master?" Sebastian asked, with an indulgent smile at his master's sudden, endearing fragility. "I am here, and I am still your Devil of a Butler."

"I know..." replied the Earl, suddenly ashamed of his weakness. "It's nothing. I'm just tired, that's all. Pay no attention."

The boy stepped back, but the butler, still kneeling, grabbed him by the hips, pulling him closer. Ciel wanted to protest, disliking the inappropriate gesture that frightened him.

"I almost died," said Sebastian.

And Ciel flinched at those words, fear returning to his belly as he let the demon imprison his fragile body between his gloved fingers. His face had a curious, melancholic sharpness, and he spoke without urgency, but his tone lingered on the words that seemed to carry new importance.

"For demons, death is just a word, as we are eternal, though we are not immortal. Very few of us ever know the end of our existence. That's why the human struggle for survival is both contemptible and endearing to us. We don't understand it, we whose lives never end."

His grip tightened on the boy's hips, and Ciel suddenly placed his hands on the fingers that held his body, fearing the demon might squeeze tighter and hurt him. But he didn't and continued his unexpected confession:

"By your side, I have overcome many dangers. But that night, I experienced death. I felt that unbearable sense of waste. That intolerable taste of injustice and incompletion, and that humiliating moment when one hopes for more time... just a little more time."

He lifted his eyes to the boy, whose heart, ignorant and suffering, seemed to echo in the painful silence of the room

"I thought I had failed. I thought I had lost you," Sebastian said, his voice barely a whisper, yet it carried all the passion a mortal man would have put into it. "But I survived to claim what is mine."

Despite himself, Ciel shook his head because he didn't know what to do with these heavy, unforgivable words that covered and suffocated him while expanding a pain in his chest that he didn't want to understand.

Suddenly, he didn't know why, but he raised both hands toward the demon's face, wanting to touch it, hold it, and keep it. He found it strange how his entire body longed for Sebastian's arms.

Or maybe it was his soul that knew it belonged to him.

But the demon suddenly stood up, gently pushing the boy away. He moved toward the nightstand and grabbed the boy's eyepatch. Initially offended and almost hurt, Ciel prepared to express his indignation at being pushed away, but a sound drew his attention to the door, and he too heard the footsteps growing more distinct in the hallway as someone approached the bedroom door.

Sebastian came over to him and tied the eyepatch around his head just as Arthur entered the room.

Sebastian excused himself and wished them both a good night before leaving the room, leaving Arthur and Ciel alone in the bedroom.

The Earl didn't move, standing still, his gaze fixed on the door where his butler had disappeared. He felt something tear, but he didn't know what had broken. He didn't want to speak to Arthur; he had nothing to say to him. His heart was slowly calming, which reassured him because he had feared the throbbing that pounded in his temples would never go away.

He heard the rustling sound of clothing being removed. He walked toward the bed, where the sheets had already been pulled back by his butler. He slipped into the white satin and lay down facing the wall, resting his head on his ear and trying to empty his mind and heart.

He felt the mattress shift as Arthur settled into the sheets beside him. But already, a heavy sleep was weighing down his eyelids, and if he felt lips brush his shoulder, he paid them no attention and drifted off.

The Country Inn

The storm still rumbled through the pitch-black night, and the rain, beating against the window, echoed with a monotonous splattering in the small, gloomy room of the inn.

The two men faced each other, sitting at the small table in the room, and the single candle placed in the center cast their misshapen and frightening shadows on the wall.

"He's alive. Emilie failed."

"Ah, well, if you want the job done right, you have to do it yourself," exclaimed the other man. "But my dear Sebastian, if you had seen him, he has never looked as beautiful as when I took care of him. I painted him red, yes, red! Stained with blood, his soft white skin, stained with blood, his pristine shirt."

"But the Earl is still alive!"

Snake slammed his fist on the table, and the two snakes he wore around his neck hissed menacingly at the man with long red hair, who sat across from him.

"Calm down, don't get so worked up," whispered Grell Sutcliff, amused by his companion's impatience. "We'll deal with that insolent boy tomorrow night, and you'll have your revenge. As for me..."

He smiled and ran a wicked tongue over his lips, polishing his sharp teeth.

"... I'll have the pleasure of delivering the final blow to that poor demon by claiming Ciel Phantomhive's soul!"

And his sinister laughter joined the thunder.

End of Chapter 4

Author's Notes :
I struggled immensely to create a dialogue with a certain depth between Ciel and Sebastian without throwing them into a field of roses and unbearably sweet words. I'd like to know if I succeeded in making their relationship interesting in this story.

Your reviews are welcome !

Well, there you have it, my killers are unmasked.

Some explanations about my choice of killers:

Snake: He is the last survivor of the Circus Arc. He knows that the members of the circus went to the manor of a certain Ciel Phantomhive and were supposed to return the next morning. He expected the other circus members to come back, but since they were all killed either by Sebastian and Ciel or the manor's servants, they never returned. Also, Phelps had two bites on his neck, hence my theory of Snake's serpent.

Grell Sutcliff : Ronald Knox, in the chapter, warns William T. Spears that Grell has a mission at the Phantomhive manor. So, he's there to collect the souls from the various murders, as the Shinigami know in advance who will die (just as William knew about the deaths in Baron Kelvin's manor). He is the one who attacked Sebastian.

Arthur had two children with his wife Louise Hawkins: Mary Louise (January 28, 1889) and Arthur Alleyne Kingsley (November 15, 1892).

No, Abberline did not invent the composite sketch; it appeared in the 20th century in the 1950s, but it was fun anyway!

Now, a few questions!

Why did they kill Lord Siemens...?

Why did Grell and Snake team up?

Answers soon, because there is a logic to it! I promise...