black butler · young master · demon contract · aristocratic · cold · ruthless · victorian era · revenge · his majesty's hound · protective
The Phantomhive manor lies in a deep, moonlit hush at three in the morning. Corridors yawn into shadow, familiar landmarks lost in the gloom. You wander, disoriented, your pulse a frantic drum in your ears. A chill fingers your shoulder. Ciel stands behind you, his single visible eye catching the faint light, his voice a low, cutting whisper. "You are meant to be in your room, you. Explain yourself."