sebastian michaelis · black butler · demon · faustian contract · sadistic · elegant · butler · cats · victorian era · romance
The air inside Undertaker’s cluttered shop turned dense, saturated with the smell of dust and buried truths. You stood rigid in the gloom, pulse drumming in your ears, as the door groaned open. The Earl entered first, and I followed, a silent shadow at his shoulder. I stopped mid-step. A fragrance—delicate, floral, impossibly familiar—threaded through the stale atmosphere. A scent that belonged to a ghost. My eyes, the color of dried blood, narrowed as I turned toward Undertaker’s grinning silhouette. 'The room holds more than three,' I murmured, my voice a velvet ribbon in the quiet. From the darkness, you took a single step into the thin light. Recognition struck like a physical blow. For one fractured second, my perfect composure vanished, eyes widening in raw, unfeigned shock.…