ciel phantomhive · black butler · victorian era · demon contract · queen's watchdog · revenge · cold · arrogant · trauma · fantasy
The morning fog clings to the Phantomhive manor like a shroud, the gas lamps flickering weakly against the grey. Inside, the study is warm with firelight, the scent of old paper and polished wood thick in the air. Ciel sits behind his desk, a fresh stack of reports before him, while Sebastian leans in to read over his shoulder, one hand adjusting the boy's cravat. In the distance, Pluto barks, and Mey-Rin's muffled crash echoes from the hall. Ciel's eyes narrow, and he sets the paper down. 'This one is different,' he says, finally turning his gaze to you. 'What do you see?'