March, 1889

Baldroy methodically peeled the potatoes intended for dinner later that day. The blond veteran idly sucked on a cigarette as he did so, his mind going blank as he focused on the work in front of him.

Baldroy enjoyed menial tasks like these. It was relaxing. It required enough concentration that he wasn't bored, but not enough that he had to stay completely focused on it.

He had been working at the Phantomhive manor for a couple of years by that point. He learned to enjoy those peaceful moments where he could.

He may not have been a soldier at war anymore, but being a Phantomhive employee still required... a similar skill set.

In the beginning—when he first started—there were kidnapping and murder attempts at least thrice a week. Many uprising lords and criminals were at loathe to see the Phantomhive family return to power and wanted to do everything they could to stop it.

Things slowed down as the young master began clearing away the rats, but it was never truly safe.

Instead of murder attempts three times a week now it was only... once a week. Sometimes. Some weeks there were none, but the following week was usually back to back incidents.

So doing something small and menial like peeling potatoes was nice for Baldroy.

Especially since dinner that day would include a favorite guest—the young lord's fiancée, Dame Eleanor Midford.

The future Lady Phantomhive was a cherished member of the family. A sweet, doting girl to the servants, and a ruthless soldier to her enemies. Baldroy, like the other employees at the manor, enjoyed having her visit. Not only because of how kind she was to them—she always brought them new clothes, books, or treats from the city—but because of how warmer the place got when she arrived.

Baldroy cared about the young master. Ciel reminded him a lot of... of another young boy Baldroy lost. He knew Ciel could never be a replacement, but even so, Baldroy sincerely wished the best for the young lord. Ciel was cold, prickly, and preferred sneering to smiling.

The only time Baldroy had ever seen him happy was with Eleanor. Ciel didn't need to smile or laugh for Baldroy to notice how much brighter he was with her.

If only for Ciel's sake, Baldroy was looking forward to the day that Eleanor permanently stayed at the manor.

Baldroy smiled to himself.

That night would the be first night of a prolonged stay for Eleanor. She normally came down Friday nights and left Sunday evenings, but that night would be different. She would be staying a month at the manor.

All thanks to her newest servant.

Baldroy didn't know the details, nor did he care to ask. All he knew was that a little over a week ago, Ciel and Sebastian returned to the city with a young man with them. Sebastian gathered the other residents at the manor—Finnian, Mey-Rin, Baldroy, and Tanaka—to introduce them.

"He will be one of Elly—Eleanor's servants," Ciel explained, an icy edge in his voice. "We will be training him."

Finnian let out a confused noise. "Huh? Shouldn't Snake train him?"

"Snake will, but only after we..." Ciel's lips curled into a cruel sneer. "Give him a few introductory lessons."

Baldroy frowned at that. Ciel had, perhaps, not been welcoming of the new servants in the beginning but he wasn't so cold as he was to Joker. In fact, it seemed like Ciel thought very poorly of Joker.

Surely not though, right? Eleanor wasn't the type to recruit someone incompetent, and Ciel wasn't the type to turn down talented help.

The man wore a polite—and completely fake—smile as he took a bow. "'Ello. Pleased to meet 'ee. Call me Joker."

Baldroy did not miss the way Ciel's eye narrowed slightly as he watched Joker.

Ciel didn't trust him.

That was the only conclusion Baldroy could make.

That was why they were training him first.

Ciel did not trust Eleanor's new servant. Ciel brought Joker to the manor to test him.

If he passed, Snake would continue the training.

If he failed...

Baldroy grinned mirthlessly. "Good to meet you, Joker. Let's get along, huh?"

Baldroy paused in peeling the potatoes, the memory of meeting Joker lingering in his mind.

His guess proved to be on point. Over the following two weeks Joker went through some rigorous training from Sebastian. Test after test after test—

Sebastian could be a proper demon sometimes. From Ciel's orders, the head butler focused his entire attention on the Joker to determine whether the man could even have the honor of serving their dear dame.

Baldroy thought the man passed. He didn't witness all the tests, but he knew some of them left the man shaking, pale, but resolute afterwards.

If he didn't pass, he surely wouldn't still be alive the day Eleanor came to the Phantomhive manor.

Mey-Rin came into the kitchen. "Good day, Chef."

"Good day, Maid," Baldroy greeted cheerily.

Mey-Rin sighed when she noticed the kitchen window. "I don't think I like this weather."

Baldroy glanced out the window. Another cloudy, dreary day. "Yeah, the weather's always gloomy in this country, ain't it? When the sky's overcast every day like this, it's—"

Suddenly, the kitchen door to the backyard was kicked down. In stepped two lads dressed in white suits with white hair and pale eyes.

"Hello there," sung the first one whose white hair was messily cropped and long. "Is the earl at home?"

Baldroy and Mey-Rin immediately shifted to defensive positions. Baldroy growled, "Who the hell are you two?"

The first one shrugged, baby blue eyes sparkling with cruel glee. "Why?" He lifted a rapier up. "Are you saying you'll play with me?"

At once, the young man dashed forward. Baldroy had to throw the pot of peeled potatoes at him. The white haired lad knocked the pot aside, but it had given Mey-Rin enough time to pull out the two pistols she carried at her hip. She fired off quick shots.

"Wow, two guns? How spiffing!" The man exclaimed sardonically. He moved quickly across the kitchen, picking up a sturdy pan to deflect the bullets as he lunged to her. He sliced her guns in half, turning around in preparation to cut her down next. "But I prevail in close-quarters combat."

Baldroy had gotten close, swinging a large kitchen knife at the man's back.

The white haired man noticed, and instead kicked off Mey-Rin to launch himself over Baldroy. As soon as his feet touched the ground—before Baldroy even had a chance to turn around—he jabbed his rapier forward.

It would have gone straight through the back of Baldroy's neck if Sebastian had not suddenly appeared with a tray of sweets that he used to deflect and soften the blow.

"Welcome, Charles Grey," said Sebastian politely. "If you are here to visit Lady Eleanor, you are a bit premature for her arrival. She is not yet due for a couple more hours."

Charles Grey straightened up with a smirk, sheathing his rapier. "I know. I wanted to play with her beloved servants. If she were here I couldn't do that, now could I?"

Sebastian smiled. "Unlikely."

Charles said, "I won't be staying long enough to visit, either. We're here to drop off a letter for the earl. He's in, right?"

"Of course. Allow me to escort you to the tea room."

"Jolly good."

(✹)

Eleanor

CLUSEBERRY ENTIRE FAMILY AND FORTUNE LOST IN TRAGEDY

The headlines read out boldly against the newspaper.

Cluseberry... weren't they an up and coming merchant family? Eleanor thought, shaking her head. I could have sworn Ciel had an appointment with them not long ago.

What a shame.

"All done," said the Undertaker, wiping away at her arm. Eleanor glanced at the pint of blood he had collected. The reaper was masterful at drawing her blood, she rarely felt more than a slight pinch. He wrapped a bandage around her. "Enjoying the newspaper?"

"Yes," she said. "Apparently the Cluseberry family was wiped out. At a glance it looks like a tragedy, but it's peculiar it was the entire family. How often do distant cousins and estranged grandparents get together?"

The Undertaker hummed. "Coincidences do happen."

"I suppose. I'd bet a pound this wasn't an accident," mused Eleanor, folding the paper and setting it down.

"Interested in investigating it? Heheh, you might find something fun."

"No thank you," she said. "Playing detective is fun on occasion, but it's not a task I enjoy enough to go out of my way to do."

"Pity," he said.

Eleanor reached to adjust one of her bangs, letting out a sigh at feeling her hair slowly come out of its braid.

"What a heavy sigh," he said. "This is a place of laughter, not sighing."

"Sorry, my friend," she said. "I tried doing my hair myself today and, ah, well, I'm clearly not good at it."

"Would you like me to fix it?" The Undertaker offered.

Eleanor's eyes widened. "Wait—can you? I mean, do you know how to—er—I'm sorry. Um, if you can, then... yes, please."

The Undertaker let out a soft, wheezing chuckle. "My eyesight isn't the best, but I've learned to see many things with my sense of touch." He reached forward, long fingers grasping into her hair. He gently undid the terrible braid Eleanor had attempted, easily maneuvering her hair. Eleanor felt the tugs on her scalp, but he was so careful it did not hurt her in the slightest. In fact, it felt very pleasant.

Only Snake—and very rarely Ciel—had done anything with her hair previously. It was odd to feel the reaper comb his fingers through it. It gave her goosebumps.

She closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation.

Strange, but not unwelcome. The reaper's presence had become comforting to her. He was the only one to know everything about her. Not only did he know, but he accepted it, and continued to be her friend.

She didn't know everything about him. She didn't know his motivations, or long-term goal.

But she also never asked.

She didn't need to know.

Because she knew at the end of the day, he was her friend. He was on her side.

Even though her side was very bloodied, dark, and grotesque... he was still there.

"I'm glad you're my friend," she confessed softly.

The Undertaker's fingers stilled for a moment before he resumed.

"You are too kind for this world, my sweet little birdy," he whispered.

(✹)

The carriage ran over a bump in the road that made Eleanor shift her posture. She sat alone in the carriage, Snake up front and driving. The two were on their way to the Phantomhive manor.

Eleanor planned to stay there for an entire month instead of the normal weekend visit.

Mostly because of the training required for her new servant, Joker. He would be trained as a Phantomhive servant, not a Midford one.

Eleanor planned to leave most of his training up to Snake, but Ciel was still distrustful of the man. He insisted that he did the majority of his training at the Phantomhive manor with Sebastian. Eleanor had little reason to argue.

That being said, he was still meant to be Eleanor's servant. Eleanor wanted a hand in training him as well, hence her prolonged stay at the manor. She couldn't do much work with only a few days of the week, after all.

And it was finally starting to warm up enough for trail rides. Eleanor did so enjoy those. She could only do them at the manor.

It took a lot of arguing back and forth with her mother, Francis, but Eleanor did get permission. Eleanor originally wanted to stay the summer, but Francis could not agree to more than a month at a time.

The carriage came to a stop after the long ride. Eleanor was eager to step out and stretch her legs. She set her book down on the seat, reaching forward to open the door. Before she had a chance to open it herself, someone else beat her to it.

Joker opened her carriage door, greeting her with a smile. It took Eleanor a couple seconds to hide her shock upon seeing the young man.

This world really doesn't lack for handsome men, does it?

His red hair was cut and combed back. His showman outfit was replaced with an expensive suit, and he wore matching black gloves in a clear effort to hide his prosthetic. His posture was tightly controlled, a perfect bow as he offered his hand. His smile wasn't wide enough to come across as over eager, nor too small to lack warmth. He had cleaned up to such a point that Eleanor was certain even Francis would not find fault with him.

Eleanor placed her hand in his offered palm. "Hello, Joker. How was training?"

"Rigorous, my lady," he said, assisting her out of the carriage. "I have much more to learn."

"I see," she said. She pulled out a thick envelope that had sat beside her on the carriage ride to the manor. As soon as she shut the carriage door, Snake ushered the horses forward to unhitch the carriage near the stables. "This is for you."

Shock flickered briefly over Joker's face before he smoothed out his expression to a polite smile. "Oh?"

"It's from the Circus," she said. "Your friends were asking about you."

"I did not expect my lady to visit the circus again," Joker said, accepting the envelope.

"I had an idea regarding it and needed to speak with the owner," dismissed Eleanor. "And I wanted to check up on Freckles." Eleanor glanced up at the manor, wondering what Baldroy or Sebastian had prepared for dinner. She was starved.

"MY LADY!"

A wide grin bloomed across Eleanor's face upon hearing Finnian's joyous shout. The blonde young man was sprinting across the yard, excitedly waving his arms. Eleanor stepped away from Joker to greet Finnian.

Finnian stopped short of running into her, teal eyes sparkling. "Welcome home!"

Eleanor affectionately ruffled Finnian's hair. "Thank you. Have everything planted?""Yeah! I added spinach to the garden this year," Finnian said proudly, puffing up his chest. "And more lavender."

"More lavender? Gracious, you could start a lavender shop at this rate," Eleanor said, raising an eyebrow.

"Sebastian said if I grow enough we could turn the oils into candle wax. If I make enough, maybe I could fill the whole manor with my candles!" Finnian chirped excitedly.

"I'm sure that would smell absolutely lovely," Eleanor gently encouraged. "I hope you have good luck this year."

"Thanks! Snake said he'd keep some of his friends at the manor to help with pest control. Those bunnies can be really annoying," said Finnian.

"Be sure to thank Snake, okay?"

"Yep," said Finnian, saluting her.

"Oi."

The three glanced up at Baldroy. The American veteran nodded at Eleanor. "Welcome home. Finny, you shouldn't keep our lady standing around. It's almost time for dinner."

"Oh. Sorry," Finnian apologized.

"It's fine," Eleanor said, heading up the steps. She smiled at Baldroy. "What's for dinner?"

"You ask that as if I wouldn't prepare your favorite," Baldroy said, grinning.

"You spoil me!"

"Nah," he said, chuckling as he rubbed the back of his head. "Ah... my lady? You know a chap named Charles Grey? White hair?"

"Oh yes," said Eleanor. "He's a friend, why?"

"... No reason."

"Did you hear Ciel complain about him?" Eleanor guessed. "He's a bit of a—ah—wildcard if you will. He's got a good heart though."

"Yeah," the chef said flatly. "As pure as snow."

Eleanor giggled. "Maybe not that far."

(✹)

Eleanor cherished the flavor of the sweet roasted pork. The food produced at the Phantomhive manor was one of the highlights in her current life. She wasn't sure if it was the recipes, the ingredients, or if maybe the kitchen was magical. There was something so addictingly good about everything prepared.

Especially if she compared it to previous lives. Oh sure she'd kill for a greasy burger or some convenience store ramen, but she couldn't deny how much she enjoyed what was prepared for her.

She had come to love sticky toffee pudding as much as mooncakes and chocolate pie.

"Anything new in London?" Ciel quietly inquired. He was a delicate eater, always cutting every part of his food into tiny pieces before slowly biting into it.

"Not much to remark upon," Eleanor said, thinking back on the news she had read over the past week. "Oh. A family was wiped out. The Cluseberry. Didn't you have an appointment with them a couple of weeks ago as a potential partnership in Funtom?"

"Yes," said Ciel.

"What were they like?" she asked.

Ciel took a sip from his drink. "Not worth our time."

"I see," she said. "What a shame."

"Yes," he said. "A shame."

Eleanor took another bite of the roast that had been neatly sliced on her plate. "And you? Anything happen at the manor?"

"As it would turn out, yes. Her Majesty has ordered the Phantomhive family to host a banquet." Ciel glanced at Sebastian who promptly handed Eleanor the invitation. Eleanor skimmed through it.

"Have you made any decisions regarding it?" Eleanor asked. Traditionally banquets were organized by the lady of the house. Eleanor was not the official Lady of Phantomhive, but she performed the majority of the roles for Ciel. Although she had attended numerous social events in London during the Seasons, she had never hosted one. The Midford family only hosted events for the Order of the Garter which almost always ended in chaotic duels.

If Ciel had decided on a guest list or theme, Eleanor would do her best to abide by it.

"I have a guest list," he said. "Six, maybe seven guests."

"So few?" Eleanor said, aghast. "It's your first banquet to host."

"Yes?"

"A hundred guests is the average," Eleanor explained as she raised her teacup to drink.

Ciel gave her a look of sheer no.

Eleanor smiled into her tea, taking a sip. "Oh dear. So certain?"

"Besides, Her Majesty gave us orders," he said. "If I am to interpret them correctly..." Ciel set his own tea cup down. "Elly? What if... we played a game instead?"

"A game?"

He smiled cruelly. "Yes. A game."

"Ah. You've a devilish plan, my dear?"

"Mn. Elly?" Ciel tilted his head, his peacock blue eye sparkling with mischievous mirth. "Can you cry for me?"

"Pardon?"

(✹)

A week later

Arthur Conan Doyle

Arthur nervously clutched at the invitation in his hands.

Arthur was an ophthalmologist with a failing office. It had been weeks since he had seen a new client. He had dabbled in writing since medical school, but his only published work was a complete flop—it only sold one copy.

He was debating on closing up shop and leaving London when he received an odd invitation.

A thick envelope was addressed to him. Inside was an invitation to join a banquet at the Phantomhive manor.

Arthur did not know much about the family—only that they were nobility.

What could nobles want with him?

He did not know. He was reluctant to accept the invitation, but a part of him instinctively felt drawn to it.

Before he even realized what he was doing, he agreed.

And so on a dark and rainy day, he set off to the manor.

It began to storm heavily as the carriage approached.

Arthur nervously peered up at the imposing manor. It was the biggest house he had ever seen. Did nobility truly live like that? How many rooms did they need? What could they possibly fill those rooms up with? Or did they have dozens of empty rooms or copycat rooms of the same furniture?

He did not linger long, moving quickly inside to try and keep himself from getting drenched.

Stepping inside, he was astounded by what he saw.

Immaculate.

That was the first word that came to Arthur, followed by noble.

Yes, as soon as he stepped in and saw the candlelit chandeliers bathing the foyer in golden light he knew he was in a world far different than his own. Everything seemed rich in an awe-inspiring way. It was not over the top to the point of being wasteful, but a deliberate display of wealth and power. Oil paintings larger than Arthur depicting beautiful places, wood so lovingly polished it reflected the candle light, marbled floor with intricate designing—

He could go on, but he found himself lacking the words to do it justice.

It was an impactful sight. Arthur had visited rich clients before, yet none radiated the noble aura that manor had.

It was intimidating. A shiver went down his spine.

Like a siren. Beautiful, enthralling, and yet he could not resist feeling that it was... dangerous.

Dark.

The golden light cast twisted shadows in that foyer.

Arthur nervously swallowed. What... am I doing here?

There were already guests. Though not many, each of them were lavishly dressed. Arthur self-consciously fixed his tie, well-aware that his old brown suit looked shabby in comparison to the others. Even the butlers were better dressed than he.

He glanced at the red-hared butler that let him in. The man smiled at Arthur.

Even the butler is better looking than me too. I really don't belong here.

While Arthur struggled to figure out what to do next—Do I go to the buffet table? Do I try to talk to someone? Do I hide in a corner?—he was approached by a tall Chinese man in a blue tang suit. He was accompanied by a beautiful Chinese woman in a short cheongsam.

"My name is Lau. I'm the lowly hired branch manager of a trading company," said the man. "This is my sister, Ran-Mao. And you?"

"A-Arthur. I-I'm an ophthalmologist, and I do a little writing."

"How impressive! You're a professor."

"Not at all, I'm not nearly that successful," Arthur said quickly. "I can't understand why I'd be invited to such an—an immaculate banquet."

"Who can tell what that fussy earl is thinking?"

Arthur paled. "I-Is he really that difficult to please?"

"All I know for sure is that something interesting is bound to happen," said Lau. "Probably."

"What kind of person is the earl?"

"Let me see... He's extremely proud, and he only has two facial expressions: sullen and angry."

Arthur gulped.

"I'll thank you not to tease my guests," drawled out a cold voice from the top of the stairs.

Arthur, along with the rest of the guests in attendance, raised his head to look at the top of the stairs.

There stood a young boy—for Arthur could not use any other term when looking at him—who had linked arms with a young girl. The boy was dressed in a finely tailored gray and plum suit with a neatly tied lavender bow around his neck. The girl was in a lavish lavender and gray dress.

The two certainly looked like a matching pair and exuded a proud aura Arthur normally found on adults, not... children. It unsettled Arthur.

Behind them were two butlers, both in black suits and both distractingly handsome. One with dark hair and cinnamon eyes that looked strangely red in the lighting. The other with silver hair and golden eyes and—well, surely Arthur must have been mistaken because it looked like the man had iridescent scales on part of his skin.

The four made for a beautiful entrance.

"Huh... children...?"

Lau explained, "That small boy is Lord Phantomhive, and that girl is Dame Midford, his fiancée."

"That 'small' remark is uncalled for," rebuked Ciel, a fierce glower on his face.

Eleanor cleared her throat.

At once, Ciel promptly smiled. "Thank you all for accepting my invitation. I am the master of the house, Ciel Phantomhive. This is my dear fiancée, Eleanor." Gracefully, the two began to descend the steps with their butlers right behind them. "For those who favor us with their patronage, and those we are meeting for the first time, I promise to offer my personal greetings once the banquet begins."

They reached the bottom of the steps.

Ciel glanced around. "And where might our guest of honor be?"

"Apparently he'll be arriving late due to the poor weather," quietly answered the dark-haired butler.

"Hoo?" Ciel's only eye narrowed briefly.

Then the front door opened. The red-haired butler kept it open as two new men entered the foyer.

The first was an older gentleman in a tailed coat. Behind him was a younger man in choppy long white hair and a white suit.

Ciel and Eleanor moved forward to greet them. The older man placed his right hand over his heart and offered a shallow bow. "Pleased to make your acquaintance. I'm Georg von Siemens. I appreciate the invitation."

"We are happy to have you here," Ciel demurred.

"Hi," sung the white-haired man behind Georg.

"Charles!" Eleanor greeted brightly.

"Eleanor," he said cheerfully, offering his hand. Eleanor politely placed hers inside so he could kiss the back of it. "Always a pleasure." His gaze moved to Ciel. "Earl Phantomhive. How rare it is to see the two of you together."

For a very brief moment Arthur thought Ciel's face darkened into something vicious, but it cleared up so quickly he concluded he must have imagined it.

The white-haired man—Charles—asked, "Did you have fun preparing the party?"

"Reasonably," lightly answered Eleanor. "For some reason, Ciel wouldn't let me invite a hundred guests."

Georg loudly laughed as the white-haired man snickered.

"Do you even have a hundred friends?" Ciel asked.

"You don't invite friends to a banquet," dismissed Eleanor. "You invite people you want to see dance terribly."

"No wonder you keep insisting I accompany you," sighed Ciel, eliciting laughter again from the group. Ciel offered his hand to George. "Let us restart. We're delighted to have you here. Thank you for coming. I'm Ciel Phantomhive, and this is my cheeky fiancée, Eleanor."

"No longer dear fiancée?" Eleanor teased. Arthur couldn't resist smiling in amusement at that. He was not part of the conversation, but Eleanor and Ciel had charismatic energy between them that drew his attention to them.

Even if they were not the hosts, Arthur had a feeling everyone would still have their eyes on them.

(✹)

Arthur did not find direction or purpose even after the group had moved to the dining room. He couldn't bring himself to try and approach the dazzling guests, and soon he found himself quietly seated by the window. He was not upset by the turn of events, content to watch the party unfold.

"A drink?" offered the dark-haired butler.

"Ah—thank you," said Arthur as he accepted a glass of wine.

"May I sit here?"

"Sure—" Arthur said, then stopped when he realized that it was Ciel Phantomhive who had taken a seat next to him. He gulped. "E-Earl?"

"Are you enjoying yourself?" asked Ciel.

"Y-Yes."

"Please relax, Professor."

"I-I'm not worthy enough to be called professor—"

"But that's what I'd like to call you, so it's fine, right?" dismissed Ciel. "Unless it upsets you?"

"No..." Arthur nervously glanced at the glass of wine. "Shouldn't you be with the—with the other guests? I'm not anyone special."

Ciel nodded to his fiancée who effortlessly carried a conversation between a group of the guests. "I prefer to leave the socializing to my kinder half."

"K-Kinder—?" Arthur grimaced. "Um... this... this might sound rude, but... why did you invite me?"

"The other day I read one of your works," said Ciel. "It was the novel printed in Beeton's Christmas Annual."

"You read that? It's a minor print, and you—you're a noble—"

"Rank has nothing to do with it. Besides, my customers are commoners." Ciel politely smiled at Arthur. "The protagonist in your story was very witty and charming."

To Arthur's astonishment, the earl smoothly took control of the conversation. Arthur had not at all expected to discuss his lowly published story at such a fanciful place—certainly not by someone so distinguished, either! Arthur's embarrassment melted away as he became engrossed in the conversation.

One of the guests, a prominent theatre producer named Grimsby Keane overheard their conversation and shortly joined in. From there it evolved into a debate on the nuances of writing in general and the differences between writing for profit and writing for love.

The three continued to talk for many minutes until they were interrupted by a shriek.

"Touching me with those indecent hands! I can't stand it anymore!" scolded Irene Diaz, the beautiful opera singer who had been invited. The pale blonde woman scowled seethingly at Georg von Siemens.

The older German laughed. "Sorry, I can't help it. When you're dressed like that, I just—"

"My, my!" Eleanor said, clapping her hands as she moved between Georg and Irene. "Good sir, is that a Frachuster pocket watch I spot?"

"Wha—oh, this?"

"My father's told me only those in prominent circles in Germany could ever meet with the worker let alone obtain one," Eleanor gushed, laying on the charm. "He's wanted one for as long as I can remember. Although I do not covet watches, even I must admit I'm quite taken by some of the pictures I've seen."

Georg puffed out his chest, taking out his pocket watch. "You and your father have excellent tastes! Why I actually won this in a game of poker a couple of nights ago. You will not believe who I played against."

"Oh my, please do go on," she said, widening her eyes to falsify her interest. "I do love a good poker story."

He laughed boisterously. "As you wish!"

Arthur watched, impressed at how easily Eleanor had smoothed the situation over.

To his right, Ciel's dry tone caught Arthur off guard. Especially since he started to speak in French. Ciel dryly said, "That man seemed so austere, but this is how he behaves after a few drinks? From how readily he reached for Irene, he looks like a repeat offender."

The dark-haired butler that accompanied Ciel briefly smiled. He also spoke in French as he said, "That may be so. Judging by his lack of self-discipline he's either a complete fool or perfectly shameless."

"I'd say he's suffering from a condition no doctor could ever cure. Let us hope he does not make another grab for any of the women, or Elly will lose her temper."

Arthur snorted softly at that, smiling into his glass.

He calls her Elly in private? Cute.

He tried to imagine one of his own siblings behaving like Ciel or Eleanor. It was hard to picture. His little brothers and sisters were rambunctious brats. Even the oldest one—seventeen—would never be so composed.

Nobles were truly raised differently.

(✹)

The night wore on. A few more hours in and things began to die down. The supposed guest of honor had drunkenly passed out on one of the couches.

"Sebastian," Ciel called out, "escort our guest to his room."

The butler bowed.

"I'll be retiring for the evening," said Ciel with a glance at Eleanor. She smiled at him, the two exchanging a silent conversation between their gazes. "My dear fiancée will remain, of course."

"How about we move this to the billiard-room?" Eleanor said, forcing herself to be cheerful and bright.

"Sounds lovely," said Charles.

"Good night then," said Ciel, giving Eleanor a chaste kiss on the back of her hand before leaving.

"Good night," she echoed as the door shut behind them. She turned around, her dress fluttering with her movement. She put her hands together and awarded the guests with a dazzling smile. "Shall we go now? Joker, please move some of the hor'devours and drinks in. Snake, please lead our guests to the room"

The two butlers bowed, the red-haired man moving to the buffet while the scaly man lead most of the guests forward.

"Follow me, please," said Snake. Most of the guests immediately did so. Arthur moved to as well, but when he realized that Eleanor and Charles Grey were not with the group, he lingered in the shadows. He was surprised to find Charles Grey had approached Eleanor. Arthur was admittedly curious to the reason.

The young man in white stood in close proximity to the dame. Arthur noted they were close—closer than what strangers would be. He could only conclude they were on good terms, if not outright friends.

"What?" Eleanor asked, her voice quiet and difficult for Arthur to hear.

Charles' lips twitched. Arthur thought he was trying to fight back a smile. "It was worth it to come all the way out here just to see that."

"See what?" Eleanor asked suspiciously.

"How happy you look," he said.

Eleanor's cheeks turned red. "Wha—l"

Charles clapped her back. "Come on, Dame. I want to destroy you in a game of pool."

"You will do no such thing."

"Oh, but that is exactly what's going to happen over the next hour."

Eleanor scoffed. "I'll have you defeated in half that time, dear friend."

"That's some big talk for someone in pool-defeating range."

The two exchanged grins. Charles Grey offered his arm. "My lady."

"Ew, it sounds so wrong coming from you," she laughed as she accepted his arm.

"Dame?"

"There we go."

Charles Grey laughed. "This is why you're my friend."

"I thought it was because no one else wanted to."

"Ah. That reason, too."

(✹)

"Lord Siemens!"

The scream tore through the night, shocking the party members who had gathered in the billiard room. At once, they rushed to where the maid was screaming, only a hallway over. The Phantomhive maid, a pretty woman with red hair, was knocking furiously on a door.

"What's going on?" Eleanor demanded as soon as she arrived. Arthur startled at the sharp command in her voice. The servants immediately straightened up as soon as their lady appeared.

"Lord Siemens rang for the servants. When we came up we heard a scream in his room," one of the servants explained.

The handsome dark-haired butler—Sebastian, if Arthur remembered correctly—moved to the door and said, "I'll kick it down."

In two kicks, the door flew off its hinges.

The room inside was dark except for a lit fireplace. In front of the fireplace was a chair, and slumped over in that chair was the guest of honor. A flash of lightning revealed a startling sight—the man was dead. The maid and a few other guests screamed in horror.

Alarm shot through Arthur, but his medical training focused on the man in the chair.

Maybe he's not dead yet!

Arthur strode forward with a purpose, first checking his pulse, then his eyes. He did not find a pulse on the wrist, and Georg's pupils were unresponsive to the light. His chest was covered in red liquid. Arthur moved to undress the man to examine the wound but stopped when he remembered the company he was in.

He could not let gentle ladies and children see such horror. Arthur turned to address the group—noting that Ciel had joined them along with more Phantomhive servants—and said, "He appears dead. Most likely from the chest wound."

"A-At any rate we better not move anything until the Yard arrives," Grimsby stammered.

"But this room's pretty hot, isn't it?" drawled the Phantomhive chef.

"I heated all the rooms in advance, but I suppose he might have been cold," said Sebastian.

"I hate to say this," the chef said flatly, "however with this heat, he'll decay in no time. Even if we put out the fire, he won't last long next to the hearth."

Irene whimpered. "D-Decay?"

"I think we should keep him someplace cool until a specialist examines the body," said Arthur.

"In that case," said Eleanor, "we should place him in the cellar until the Yard arrives. Joker, Finny, please fetch a stretcher and carefully move him."

The red-haired butler and the blond gardener bowed.

"Snake and Baldroy, please search the grounds," Eleanor continued. "Mey-Rin and Tanaka, please prepare some calming tea for our guests."

Each bowed to their lady before taking their leave. Within minutes the room was cleared except for the guests and one butler.

Lau made a humming noise. "Although it will probably take some time for the Yard to arrive. Certainly not tonight given the weather."

"Thinking about it logically," Charles Grey said slowly, "wouldn't one of us be the culprit?"

"Why would it be us?"

"Don't be ridiculous!"

"That's right—that's absurd!"

The guests immediately voiced their indignation to that question. Even Arthur had to find it hard to accept. He pointed out, "In the first place, most of us have only just met."

Irene gasped. "When we arrived at this door, wasn't it locked? Doesn't that mean someone came through the window, locked the door to buy some time, then escaped back out the same way?"

Charles moved to the window, tapping at it. "But in this storm, wouldn't you leave footprints if you came outside?"

"Not necessarily," Eleanor said, lavender eyes coolly watching Charles. "It's hardwood, after all. They could have cleaned up after themselves. Or, if they were prepared in advanced they could have snuck in before the storm and waited then left through the window."

For some reason, Charles looked annoyed. He clicked his tongue. "Not many could scale two stories. Especially in this weather."

"Given the murder, we would have to assume it was premeditated in the first place," Eleanor continued on. "It could be one of us here, but it could also be someone on the premise. It's far too early to say one way or another, don't you think?"

"The window is locked."

"You can easily lock a window from the outside," dismissed Eleanor. "Just as you can lock this door from the outside."

"Oh?"

Eleanor glanced at Ciel with a smile.

"The locked room mystery," Ciel began to explain. "You use a needle and thread. First, you anchor the latch by jamming a threaded needle in its side. Then, you run the thread under the door—or window—and step outside. After that, all you have to do is close the door and carefully extract the needle and thread. It's a cliché trick in mystery novels, but the culprit isn't trying to write a book. It's a feasible deception."

"So what you're saying is we can't eliminate any suspects?" Charles retorted.

"Not necessarily," said Lau. "We can start by checking alibis. The guest was killed after retiring to his room. To be precise, the murder occurred after he rang the servants' bell, but before the staff reached his room. You need an alibi for that time window."

Grimsby sighed. "Irene and I were in the billiard room."

"Charles, Arthur, Patrick, and I were also there," said Eleanor. "I was crushing Charles in a game of pool."

"Lies," hissed Charles.

"Ran Mao and I were drinking in the lounge with Woodley."

"The servants were cleaning up after the banquet," said Sebastian. "All accounted for."

"Which would make the earl our prime suspect, wouldn't it?" Charles Grey drawled out slowly.

There was a shift in the air. Arthur suddenly felt very nervous, as if someone had poked a sleeping bear.

Eleanor took a step closer to Ciel, her expression unreadable.

"That's a dangerous move, Dame," said Charles with a humorless smile.

"It's a foolish accusation, Sir," she said, a chill in her voice. "You of all people should know that."

He shrugged uncaringly. "It's certainly not logical, yet at the present it's the only explanation." He cocked his head. To Arthur's surprise, he started to speak French. Did all nobles know French? Charles asked, "Do you intend to get rid of everyone who might testify against your dear puppy?"

"If that my was intention, there would not even be a debate," she said coldly.

Ciel cleared his throat. "Enough. Arguing will get us nowhere."

"Excuse us," said Mey-Rin, pushing in a cart of lovely smelling tea. "We have prepared warm drinks for everyone."

"Let us reconvene in the morning, then," said Eleanor, taking one of the steaming teacups and handing it to Irene. The opera singer smiled kindly at Eleanor. Eleanor continued to hand out cups to each guest. Arthur sniffed at the tea, intrigued by its warm spiciness. Taking a drink, he was delighted to feel the warmth spread through every part of his body. He could feel the stress and fatigue gently slip away from him with each drink.

"Fine," said Charles. "But I'd like some assurances we'd leave here alive. Professor, would you chain yourself to the earl and guard him?"

Eleanor made an offended noise. "If anyone should be handcuffed to him, it ought to be me."

"I have literally seen you break out of handcuffs in under a minute, and I refuse to believe that this manor—of all manors—does not have a box full of spare handcuffs that your servants could easily replace," Charles flatly rejected.

Eleanor glared at him.

"But you are right, you are definitely dangerous. I'd feel much better if I kept you in my sights," he said, continuing to smile.

"You just want a rematch."

"Yes," he said. "You cheated."

"Until you can prove I cheated, you can't accuse me of cheating," she retorted. "I'm not pulling an all nighter to soothe your ego, you petulant—"

"My lady," Ciel intoned quietly. Eleanor bit her bottom lip, and turned her head away in a scoff. Arthur thought it was cute to see the normally composed noble lady huffing like a toddler. It reminded him of one of his baby sisters. "We must do what we can to ease our guests minds. Professor, if you would not mind."

"Uh... I suppose not," said Arthur, uncomfortable with the idea of being chained to a child for the night. He assumed that meant they'd need to sleep together as well. It had been a couple of years since his siblings had crawled into his bed, so he felt momentarily nostalgic.

His baby brothers and sisters were nowhere near as cool-headed as Ciel.

"Then let's be done with this," said Charles.

"Good night," said Irene. She gave a small curtsy to the group, her teacup in hand, as she left the room with Grimsby. One by one the guests filed out until only Arthur, Ciel, Sebastian, Eleanor, and Charles remained.

Eleanor and Ciel exchanged glances, a silent conversation between the two from only their gazes.

Eleanor sighed. "Come on, Charles. I'll give you one more chance."

"Victory shall be mine," said Charles as he and Eleanor left the room.

"This way, then," said Sebastian with a slight bow.

Arthur glanced behind, watching Eleanor bicker with Charles as the two continued to walk away.

"—you are such a brat," she hissed at him.

"I love seeing your angry face. It means I'm winning," he said.

"I am this close to throwing my glove at your face."

"In this rain—? We'd get a cold if we dueled."

"I will take you down with me—"

Charles whined, "Hurtful—"

That was the last thing Arthur could hear before they were out of earshot. It felt... oddly reassuring. Listening to casual banter between friends despite the horrible situation soothed him.

The two were either excellent friends with an unshakable bond, or...

... well acquainted with death to not let a little murder disrupt them.

Arthur hoped it was the former, but his gut told him it was the latter.

Eleanor and Ciel could not have been older than thirteen, maybe fourteen, yet they were already unbothered by the sight of a corpse and the thought of a man murdered in their home. Charles Grey was also a young man—not even eighteen if Arthur remembered the newspaper article on him—yet he was also unperturbed.

It saddened him to think how unaffected the children were.

Exactly how much suffering had they gone through to reach that point of desensitization? To be so far dissociated to a traumatic event they could carry on like it was an everyday occurrence?

That thought chilled Arthur.

He hoped with a fervor that it was not an everyday occurrence.

Arthur followed behind Ciel and Sebastian at a sedate pace.

"It'll be freezing tonight due to this storm," said Ciel. "Sebastian, do not let the fires go out tonight. Tend to each hearth."

"Yes, my lord."

(✹)

Interlude with Eleanor

Eleanor slumped into a chair. "Charles, please let me sleep. It's well past midnight. I am not a night owl."

"Fine," he said. "... Admit defeat."

Eleanor started to tug off her glove, her expression sharp with irritation.

"Ah, okay, okay," he said quickly, putting away the pool cue. "Good night, Dame."

"Good night, Brat."

"Again: hurtful."

(✹)

Arthur

"Professor."

Arthur grimaced, groggily rubbing at his eyes.

"Professor."

"Uh...?" Arthur slowly sat up, disoriented for several seconds. He was—

Er not at home—?

Oh, right.

He was at the Phantomhive manor. He had been forced to share a bed with the young lord due to the murder. He yawned, glancing at Ciel who had awoken him. The child looked perturbed. "Professor, something's not right."

"What do you mean?" Arthur asked.

"It's well past the time Sebastian should have woken me."

"What—"

There was a knock at the door.

"Excuse me," said the handsome butler with silver hair and iridescent scales.

"Snake?" Ciel asked in surprise. "Where's Sebastian?"

"There has been an incident," said Snake, his head bowed.

(✹)

"Sebas... tian..."

It was a horrific scene. The dark-haired butler of Phantomhive was laid on his back, a poker stabbed straight through his chest. Blood had seeped out of him, pooling around him as he laid in it. He was dead. Arthur did not need to examine him to know that much.

Ciel and Eleanor were, understandably, distraught upon seeing him. A couple of the servants openly wept, and the guests who heard the commotion—and thus came—were terrified at what they saw.

Ciel had the most visceral reaction, it truly broke Arthur's heart. The young lord had clearly been close to his butler.

"Ciel," whispered Eleanor. She reached forward, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Ciel, come here."

Ciel shuddered at her touch. The young lord shakily stood up from kneeling beside Sebastian and abruptly turned around to embrace her. The two children shivered in each other's arms, their faces buried in the crooks of their necks so no one could see their faces.

Arthur could only assume they were weeping silently, given how violently they trembled and clung to each other.

These poor children.

"Hmm, the earl couldn't have committed this murder, since he was locked up," said Lau.

Finnish and Joker pulled off their jackets. Finnian draped his over Ciel, while Joker placed his around Eleanor. Mey-Rin gently touched their shoulders. "Young master, young lady... "

Ciel pulled away from Eleanor. "I'm sorry for losing my composure."

Eleanor's face was hidden behind her long hair. "Mn... We should keep a cool head. For Sebastian's sake."

"Yes, Elly. We must remain calm," said Ciel. "For Sebastian's sake."

"Snake," said Eleanor. "Come here."

Snake moved to stand before them. Ciel held out a pin to him. "From today, you are my butler. We will leave managing the estate and affairs to you."

Snake wore the perfect poker face. He accepted the pin with a bow. "... I will not disappoint my teacher, Sebastian. Nor my lady, and my lord."

"We know," said Eleanor. "Thank you, Snake."

Snake turned to address the servants. "Finnian, Baldroy, after you take Sebastian to the cellars, prepare breakfast. Mey-Rin and Joker prepare the baths for our guests. I will assist preparing our lord and lady to greet the day."

The servants bowed.

(✹)

Rain continued to pelt heavily against the manor as breakfast was served. Despite the atrocity the children had witnessed barely an hour ago, they were remarkably well-composed. Eleanor carried fluid conversations between Charles Grey and Irene Diaz. Arthur could plainly see the dame was doing her best to make the guests feel comfortable.

Irene must have picked up on that because her entire demeanor softened when talking with Eleanor. She even smiled several times during their conversation.

Arthur, like the rest of the guests, listened. The topic never strayed to anything heavy. It was light enough any of them could join in, but Arthur was reluctant to socialize.

It went to show how remarkably charming Irene and Eleanor were to even keep a captive audience in spite of... what had happened earlier.

Indeed, a passerby would likely never guess that the group had found two corpses of two murder victims within one night.

Once the last plate was cleared away, Ciel's calm voice rung out across the table. "Given the storm, it will be some time until we can alert the Yard. We should discuss our next move while we wait."

"Yes," Arthur found himself saying. "Let's review the facts."

Ciel's look of amusement reminded Arthur of a hunter who saw his pet do an impressive trick. It was disconcerting to see that level of cold ruthlessness on a child.

Arthur cleared his throat. "As it stands, the only one of us here without an alibi for Lord Siemens murder was Earl Phantomhive. However, only the Earl and I have alibis for Sebastian's murder as we were chained in our room last night. Therefore the murderer either cannot be among us, or there are more than one."

Karl Woodley, the president of the diamond company, was pale with fear. He pointed an accusing finger at Irene and Grimsby as he shouted, his voice hoarse, "If it can't be one person, then it has to be the pair that came together!"

"Sod the hell off!" snapped Grimsby.

"Grimbsy, please calm down," urged Irene.

"That's right," agreed Arthur. "We don't have enough information to make a verdict anyway—"

"Shut up!" Karl shouted, pounding his fists on the table as he stood up. "I can't stay here another minute—"

Ciel calmly sipped his tea. "And where do you think you'll go? Given the circumstances, I'd ask that you kindly refrain from acting impulsively."

"Impulsively?! This all started with you!"

Ciel's serene poker face did not falter for a second. "Me?"

His blaséness caused Karl's anger to stumble. The president took a few seconds of stuttering until he re-collected himself enough to say, "I know about you. You must have planned this from the beginning, to get rid of us all! You're the Queen's Dog!"

"If I wanted to get rid of you all, you would already be dead. I certainly wouldn't needlessly drag this out and worry my dear fiancée," smoothly said Ciel.

Eleanor loudly sniffled, clutching at a handkerchief as she demurely lowered her gaze to hide her expression. Charles Grey gave her a look of amusing disbelief while Irene, full of sympathy, immediately reached forward and placed a hand on Eleanor's shoulder.

Poor thing, pitied Arthur.

"Sit down, Mr. Woodley," Ciel softly said.

"DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO—"

Arthur wasn't sure what Karl intended to do by thrashing at the table, but it didn't matter. Two butlers were on either side of him.

Joker had a thin blade pressed to his neck, and Snake had a hand placed firmly on Karl's shoulder. Arthur felt a shiver crawl down his spine when he saw the tiny head of something venomous slither out from Snake's cuff.

Karl was frozen with fear.

"Please do sit down, dear guest," cooed Joker.

Snake quietly said, "Displaying such ugliness to our lord and lady will not be tolerated."

"I'm sure Mr. Woodley will be better behaved now," said Ciel, setting his teacup down. The moment his teacup touched the saucer, Joker and Snake stepped back and resumed their relaxed position.

Karl trembled as he resumed his seat.

"Returning to the topic," Ciel said, his voice calm as always, "the professor is the only one with an alibi for both murders. I'm sure our beloved guests would be most comfortable having him decide our next move."

There were murmurs of agreement. Shock flooded through Arthur, his eyes widening as he realized what Ciel implied.

"But—" Arthur began to say.

"We have plenty of time until we can contact the Yard," said Ciel, a cold, impish smile curling his lips. "So let's leisurely catch our culprit."

The food in Arthur's stomach turned sour as he stared at the Earl's expression.

Ciel did not look any bit like a boy who lost a dear servant.

Rather, he looked like a little devil who just started a new game of chess.

And they were the pawns.

Arthur swallowed roughly. "Then... I would like a chance to re-examine the bodies."

"I suppose we should take note of their state before decomposition gets in the way," said Eleanor. "We wouldn't want the Yard to miss anything because they took too long."

Arthur was thinking more along the lines of checking for signs of a struggle, but he realized Eleanor was right.

Eleanor stood up. "I would not dare ask all of our guests to witness such horrors again, however, so I would instead like to offer everyone access to our library. I'm proud to say we have an impressive collection that is sure to catch your eye."

"That sounds lovely," cooed Irene. "Do you have any recommendations?"

Eleanor smiled warmly at Irene. "I do hope you remember your wondrous role in La Sonnambula?"

"Oh, yes! Amina was a delight to portray," Irene said brightly.

"If you enjoyed Amina's character I know series you'd certainly like—"

(✹)

An Interlude with Eleanor

After Eleanor helped Irene find a book to read, she went on her way to meet the others by the cellar tunnel. Before reaching her destination, she was intercepted by a mildly-stressed Baldroy.

"What's wrong?" Eleanor asked with concern.

"Er—well—that Charles lad is a big eater, huh—?"

"Yes," said Eleanor, recalling that Charles devoured over twenty plates at breakfast.

"We're not sure we'll have enough to consistently feed him for more than a few more days," admitted Baldroy.

"Ah. I'll talk to him, don't worry.

"Thank you, my lady."

Eleanor smiled warmly at Baldroy. "Think nothing of it. Please let me know if there are any more issues and I will do my best to assist."

(✹)

Charles Gray was finishing up eating a croissant when Eleanor found him.

"I will not let you eat our entire stock of food," Eleanor said brusquely as soon as she spotted him. "If you're still hungry, go hunt."

"In this weather?" Charles was aghast. "How rude."

"Ten plates per meal, max," she warned. "Do you see that storm? We should be more frugal with the food for now."

Charles clicked his tongue. "You owe me a proper meal after this."

"Fine."

"I will eat until I'm stuffed," he threatened.

"Fine," she said. "For now, hold yourself."

"Okay," he agreed. "... I get to choose the place."

"Nothing spicy."

"It's going to be spicy," he said.

"You are such a little shit," she said.

"Ha! Says the drama queen."

"I have a dead butler, I'm excused to be a drama queen right now."

Charles' eyes narrowed. "You're a terrible actress."

At once Eleanor burst into tears. Charles froze, his expression that of a terrified deer. Eleanor wept, burying her face in her hands as she cried.

"N-No, I—I—" Charles hurried to pat her shoulder. "I—Please don't cry. I don't know what to do when you cry."

She sucker punched him in the gut. He wheezed, bending over.

"Jerk!" She said, turning on her heel and running out of the room.

(✹)

Arthur

It was surprising to Arthur how deep the Phantomhive cellar went. It had a large spiraling stone staircase. Why, if he didn't know any better he'd say they had a proper dungeon!

What would a noble family need a dungeon for?

It was cold with crisp, dry air as they—Arthur, Ciel, Charles, Eleanor, Snake, and Baldroy—descended down the stone steps. Baldroy, the Phantomhive chef with an American accent, led the way with a lone lantern.

The lantern cast long shadows around them. This, coupled with how dungeon-esque it felt, made Arthur comment, "I almost feel like I should see a ghost."

Charles hooked his arm through Eleanor, shuddering as he leaned in. Eleanor tensed as soon as he touched her. She relaxed after a moment and glanced at him.

"Don't say anything about ghosts," Charles complained.

"Scared?" snarked Ciel.

"N-No. I thought maybe Dame might be—"

Eleanor patted his arm. "Too kind, little boy."

"Geh!"

Entering the room they found the two corpses. For some reason, Sebastian was wet. Baldroy clicked his tongue, "We must have a leak somewhere."

"Poor thing," said Eleanor. "Let's leave Sebastian for now and focus on Georg."

Arthur nodded slowly, moving to the noble German's corpse.

Eleanor stood beside Arthur, peering down as the doctor pulled the sheet back. She said, "Baldroy, please hold the lantern for the professor."

Both she and Arthur pulled out notebooks with pens. Arthur glanced at her in surprise, not expecting the lady to also take notes.

She noticed his quizzical look. She politely said, "Two eyes are better than one, no?"

Arthur smiled faintly. He couldn't find fault with that.

Arthur closely examined Georg, carefully undoing the buttons on the man's shirt so he could better see the chest wound.

One stab wound, thought Arthur. Clean, straight through.

Eleanor tapped her pen on the notebook, her lavender eyes narrowed in concentration as she stared at the corpse. "I don't think that's only blood on him. Look at how things have dried."

Arthur frowned, peering closer at the shirt. Upon further inspection, he noticed there were two different shades of dark red on the white cloth. It was very subtle, but once pointed out it was hard not to notice.

"So he spilled something on himself before he died?" Charles guessed.

"Professor, how did you confirm he was dead?" she asked.

"I checked for a pulse on his wrist, and for responses in his pupils," answered Arthur.

Eleanor tapped her pen again. "Did anyone check for breathing?"

Arthur flushed in embarrassment. He had not. Damn! "No... I did not check under his nose for breathing, nor did I check for his pulse elsewhere."

"Then," she said slowly, drawing out the word, "do we have confirmation he was dead when he was put down here?"

Charles whistled. "Think he was faking?"

"Snake... off the top of your head, how many venoms can you think of that would put a grown man in a comatose state that could nearly replicate death?" Eleanor asked.

Snake promptly answered, "Five."

Charles let out an oh. "If he faked his death, then..."

"It renders the first round alibis useless," concluded Arthur. "In fact, it's perfectly possible that the person who murdered Sebastian did so because Sebastian caught them on their way down to murder the unconscious lord." Arthur scratched his chin. "But why?"

"Lord Siemens seemed the type who would probably get a kick out of faking his death at a party," sneered Charles.

"That would imply someone approached him at the party, convinced him to play along, and then murdered him," said Arthur, his brow creased in confusion as he thought.

It simply did not make any sense for the guests to do that. They were strangers meeting for the first time at the party. Going so far to prepare something that could fake a death... that was long-term premeditation.

Not to mention a guest would have no reason to kill Sebastian simply because they were caught wandering at night. No one suspected Georg was still alive, so any guest walking around at night could be excused for wanting to stretch their legs or needing to use the chambers. It was an extreme measure to kill the butler.

Unless...

It... wasn't a guest?

Could there truly be a hidden person at the manor, someone capable of evading all the guests and the Phantomhive staff in this storm?

Arthur didn't know what to think.

"Snake," Eleanor said sharply, shaking Arthur out of his thoughts, "let's say they used one of those venoms. What would be the best method for taking it?"

"Oral," said Snake.

"In that case we'll need to look for some kind of vial, right?" Eleanor concluded.

"Assuming the murderer discard it," pointed out Charles.

"The first step," she said slowly, "should be to call everyone together and search through their belongings, right? If no one has a suspicious vial, then we can either search through the mansion, or choose a different path."

"This is, of course, assuming the lord faked his death with a magical tonic," said Charles.

"Correct."

"The murderer would have thought far enough to prepare such a thing, but would not immediately destroy the evidence that could incriminate them?" he continued shrewdly.

"If he was a clever murderer he wouldn't have made it look like a murder at all," she said dismissively. "Accidents don't draw attention like seeing a gaping stab wound. In this stormy weather it'd be a lot easier to have pushed him down the front steps and bash his brains on the concrete."

"Ah," said Charles. "Yes, that would be a lot easier than all these extra steps, huh?"

"Unless, of course—" Eleanor stopped herself. "Well, it doesn't matter."

"Unless—?" Arthur probed.

Eleanor smiled mysteriously at him. "Unless it was an attempt at framing... Well, shall we head out now?"

"Yes," he said. "But perhaps we should re-examine Sebastian while we are down here—?"

"Ah," Ciel said, stumbling into Eleanor.

"Dear?" Eleanor exclaimed, catching him. Ciel trembled, and she pulled him into a hug.

"Earl?" Author asked with concern.

"Sorry," Ciel apologized. "It's hard to see my butler's body, I suppose..."

Eleanor gently rubbed his head. "I understand..."

"So affectionate," muttered Charles. He peered suspiciously at Ciel. "You seemed fine earlier."

"He could have still been in shock," Eleanor argued, glaring at Charles. "Don't be so heartless."

"You coddle him," he accused.

"She does not," said Ciel, burying his face in the crook of her neck and hugging her.

"Feh," Charles scoffed.

"We already have a plan to inspect the others' belongings," said Arthur, pitying the poor child. "Let's do that instead."

"Thank you," demurred Eleanor, nuzzling Ciel.

"Yes, thank you so much," echoed Ciel.

Arthur found himself smiling at the two. It was good they were able to find comfort in one another despite the grim circumstances.

(✹)

Arthur calmly explained the situation to the gathered guests.

"Would it be all right to check your rooms and baggage?" Arthur asked after he finished his explanation. "Of course, we'll have the ladies check each other's belongings."

"I understand," said Irene.

"By all means," agreed Lau.

"Whatever," muttered Karl.

"I—I don't mind," said Patrick Phelps.

One by one the group moved to each room. The ladies broke off to first examine Irene's belongings, then Ran-Mao, then Eleanor's. By the time the girls were done, they had reconvened with the men in Karl Woodley's room.

The butlers—Snake and Joker—worked meticulously and politely while the group stood around. Arthur could feel the nervous tension in the air, it was as thick as toffee pudding but nowhere near as pleasant.

Karl Woodsley scoffed as they went through his bags. "See? Nothing."

"Ah," said Joker, the red-haired butler opening a bag further. There, glistening amongst the clothes was a shiny little vial.

Even at a distance, Arthur could see it was empty.

Grimsby noticed and pointed accusingly at Karl. "You murderer!"

"What—no—!" Karl panicked. "I don't know what that is!"

"Snake," Ciel coolly ordered, "examine the vial."

Snake carefully sniffed at the vial. "Yes, I recognize this smell. Tetrodoxin."

Snake offered the vial to Joker who sniffed it. Joker let out a soft ah.

"That's Blue Kraken," said Joker.

Irene gasped. "Oh! I've heard about that."

"What is it?" Arthur asked.

"It's an old potion smugglers used to hide living cargo amongst the dead. Milder versions of it have been used in entertainment," Joker explained.

"A few actors have even used a few drops during live performance to help portray near death," Irene supplied.

"How curious," said Ciel, his only visible peacock blue eye danced with dark mirth as he stared at

"That—that's not—that's not mine—!"

"Then how could it be in your bag?" Eleanor inquired, tilting her head. "Everyone has been grouped since this morning, and you were in your room all night... weren't you?"

"Y-Yes, but—!"

"Why would you frame a child?" Arthur asked, disgusted by Karl's actions.

"I—I didn't—I—!"

"Diamonds," said Ciel. "The leader of the diamond industry, Roze Company, had confidential plans to collaborate with my company and expand into jewelry production. If realized, those plans would certainly damage the Woodley Company. But a few days before the banquet, the Roze company president was killed and our plans have been put on hold. So while he had the chance, he probably wanted to prevent the plans from ever continuing." Ciel shook his head, his tone laced with mocking pity. "Quite the ill-conceived plan, really."

Karl cried out, "I didn't do it. You've got to believe me, I've been set up."

"Ah," said Ciel, glancing out the window. "It looks like the storm has passed."

"I SWEAR I DIDN'T—"

But whatever he was going to say was cut off as the Phantomhive butlers effectively gagged and bound him.

"Beloved guests," cooed Eleanor. "Won't you join us for a light lunch while we await for the Yard now?"

Irene clapped her hands together, smiling in delight. "Yes. Oh how wonderful to end this!"

"Truly, justice did not abandon us today," agreed Grimsby.

"Aha," came the soft laugh of Lau.

(✹)

Eleanor

By evening the Yard had arrived and arrested Karl Woodley. Charles would be riding back with them where he insisted he'd ensure that he'd personally take care of Karl.

Which Eleanor knew meant that Karl likely wouldn't live to see the end of the week.

Not surprising.

Any time Ciel wanted to play a game, Eleanor knew that lives would be sacrificed.

It's no fun if there's nothing at stake, Ciel would tell her.

Eleanor met with Charles outside. He and Arthur were the last guests to leave. She wanted to bid Charles goodbye personally.

Even though this whole thing was basically his fault, he was still her friend.

Honestly, he did a really terrible job trying to frame Ciel, Eleanor thought. He looked so confused when the vial was in Karl's bag.

Eleanor would be sure to treasure his befuddled expression for the rest of her life. It'd take him a long time to piece together what had truly happened at that banquet.

The Queen wanted Georg's death. Charles' only task was to escort the noble to the party, where Ciel and Eleanor would dispose of him. However, Charles decided to play a little trick on Ciel by convincing Georg to fake his death so Charles could frame Ciel. Charles then killed Georg to tie up loose ends, and Sebastian because Sebastian found the vial in Georg's room.

Apparently, apparently, Ciel had expected Charles to do exactly that. He had pre-emptively invited Karl Woodley in preparation to use as a scapegoat.

While Sebastian pretended to be dead, he planted the evidence in Karl's room.

Of course, everyone at the Phantomhive manor was in on the secret. Ciel didn't want to include them, but Eleanor insisted. Snake's pets would have been able to smell Sebastian moving around anyway, and unless they were going to permanently get rid of Sebastian, it was best to just explain the situation.

Oh sure they could ask and wonder how Sebastian faked his death so well, but they'd just leave that to their imaginations.

"Eleanor," said Charles. He beckoned her over. Eleanor went to his side, resisting the urge to smirk. "Hold out your hand."

She held out her hand.

Charles placed something firm and cold inside it. Eleanor glanced down to find a pocket watch. In fact, it was the very same pocket watch Georg had. The famous one that he had won just a few nights ago.

She whispered, "Did you take this off his body?"

"Yep."

"You're shameless."

"Yep." Charles reached forwarded and patted the top of her head, careful not to mess up her hair. "It should go to someone who will appreciate it, no?"

Eleanor's lips twitched. She smiled. "You are truly horrible."

"The worst," he agreed with good cheer. "To be honest, I feel like I've been had."

"Oh?"

"I'm not yet sure how," he said. "But my gut says I've been played."

"Bamboozled perhaps?" Eleanor teased.

"Downright hoodwinked," Charles agreed. "If that is the case—because obviously this is hypothetical since clearly justice has been met—I'll have to take back my accusation about your acting skills, and revise my opinion on your chihuahua of a fiancé."

"Oh?"

"Yes. He'll be upgraded from chihuahua to terrier."

"Oh my. I'll be sure to pass that along."

"Good," he said. "I refuse to give you away until he's a proper mastiff."

"I didn't realize you were the one giving me away," Eleanor said dryly.

"That's what friends do," he said. "You certainly won't have any maids of honor."

Eleanor bit her lip to keep from snorting. "Are you asking to be my maid of honor?"

Charles scoffed. "Asking? It's a given. Although I'd prefer swordsman of honor. Maybe knight of honor."

"Oh, Charles. I do adore you."

"I know." He smiled. "I'm partial to you as well."

"Partial?"

"Don't make me say it. We both know it. It doesn't need to be spoken out loud."

Eleanor shook her head in amusement. She leaned forward and gently kissed Charles' cheek. "I know. I love you too, my friend."

"Gah. Affection," he mockingly cried out, his cheeks red. "My weakness."

"Goodbye Charles."

"Goodbye Eleanor. Oh, and before I forget—" Charles patted his stomach. "If you ever fake cry in front of me again, I will return the sucker punch."

"Fair," she said, her gaze soft with affection. "Just don't insult my acting skills again. I worked very hard to try and cry on the spot."

He gave her a bow. "It was a marvelous performance. Bravo, bravo."

Eleanor giggled and curtsied. "Thank you!"

"And, ah," said Charles slowly, "if in a few months when things have been finalized if you would enlighten me to what hypothetically might have happened here..."

"Hypothetically," said Eleanor.

"Hypothetically," agreed Charles.

"I'll be sure to describe a very... fantastical story of something that definitely did not happen here at all," she assured him.

"Good. Good," he said, nodding. "Tally ho, Dame."

"Ta!"

(✹)

Eleanor returned to the front steps where Ciel was waiting for her with a mild glare.

Ciel muttered, "Traitor."

"What? He's my friend."

"He killed our butler."

"We don't like that butler."

"It's still our butler."

"Ciel," Eleanor admonished. "Are you jealous of Charles? He's family."

Ciel snorted derisively.

"Ciel, you've nothing to be upset over—" Eleanor caught herself. "I mean. Yes, feel what you want, but it's not like I'm taking his side."

"Hm."

"Ciel. You know I'd choose you," she soothed. "I like you the most."

Ciel's cheeks turned rosy as he abruptly turned away from her. "I didn't ask."

"Oh dear," she said. "Ciel? Would you turn around for me? Just for a moment?"

Ciel sighed, turning back around to ask, "What—?"

Eleanor cupped his face and kissed his nose, forehead, and both of his cheeks. "He's my friend. But you're my best friend. I'll always pick you as my favorite."

He slapped her hands away, molten-faced and wide-eyed. "I—I—did—I did not ask!"

"I know."

"You—You—"

"I know."

"You are insufferable," he snapped, still red in the face.

"I know," she said with a smile. "Terribly annoying."

"I—no—that's not—tch." Ciel started to march back inside. He paused. "... Are you coming or not?"

Eleanor bounded to his side. He offered his arm and she hooked hers through his without thought.

"Always," she said.

"And always?" he asked softly.

"Always and always," she promised.

(✹)

Charles is a Bro™ and I will die on that headcanon.

Book of Atlantis next!

Answer: Muse. Joker and Snake are tied for my favorites.

Question: Favorite smell?

Reviews are love!