1889, April

Eleanor stretched her arms above her head. Her eyes were tired from staring at paperwork for so long.

She had bought Noah's Ark Circus shortly after acquiring Joker. She would let the circus finish its travels for the year while she worked on something grander for it.

An amusement park.

Such a thing did not yet exist in England. Eleanor wasn't certain if it was an idea ahead of its time, or if the world of Black Butler differed from her old world in that regard. With England's transportation system getting better each day, the need for a traveling circus fell down. It would be better if they were situated in one spot and instead had people come to them.

When Eleanor suggested the idea to Ciel he thought it was novel and invested in it. She mentioned it in passing to Charles Grey and the attendant told the queen, who became enamored with the concept.

So now an amusement park was being jointly built by Funtom and Her Royal Majesty in London under Eleanor's supervision.

Her Majesty invested handsomely into the park, with an agreed stipulation that one day of the summer the park would be closed to all except orphanages under Her Majesty's supervision and all the children could attend for free.

Joker who had spent years performing at the circus and had a good grasp s on what was needed to make the park a reality. Eleanor relied heavily on his suggestions when she submitted the project to a construction firm.

It was a long project with the goal being to get the essential buildings constructed before the circus finished their standard route.

She had to admit, being in charge of such a massive construction project was a first in any her lives. She wasn't even eighteen, certainly didn't have a degree, and was only vaguely aware of what to do.

She was tutored in accounting and business so she wasn't going into it blind, but... It was a pretty big project. It didn't help that a lot of the hired contractors went out of their way to use technical jargon out of pure spite. Not everyone was happy to have a minor—a girl on top of that—be their boss.

Any time she received paperwork on the project she had to have an assortment of dictionaries nearby to turn to. She had to read through everything thrice because there was always some kind of error in either logistics, finance, or approvals. She wasn't certain whether they doing it on purpose to try and trick her up, or if they lacked the capability of reviewing their own work.

And oh when she found those mistakes and forced them to correct them it was like pulling teeth!

The biggest headache was the constant back and forth between the foreman and the architect. According to the architect hired, his plans are foolproof. According to the foreman they're horseshit.

Eleanor has no idea which is correct.

I wish I could pass this off to someone else, she thought, her eyes closed.

She suddenly felt a light breeze brush across her skin. She opened her eyes and found that Joker had opened the window behind her desk.

Ahh. It's so nice outside.

Eleanor longingly stared out the window. It was a sunny day with cool, gentle breezes. It was a little past noon, and her stomach let out a loud rumble at that reminder. "Oh, Joker. Did you open that window to tempt me away from paperwork?"

"'Ee—er—You should take a lunch," said Joker with a small smile. "You should take a break."

Eleanor sighed. "I suppose I shouldn't continue on an empty stomach, huh?"

Joker nodded, pleased. "Would 'ee—er—you like to take a break outside? Stretch your legs?"

Eleanor stretched in her chair. "Yes. Good call. Would you please help me put paperweights on these? I don't want them blowing away, and I think it'd be good to ventilate this room. It feels stuffy."

Joker nodded, moving to help her. Within a minute they had books stacked on the papers to keep them secure. Eleanor rolled her shoulders as she headed out of the office, resisting the urge to yawn. She had been going over the reports since that morning. Joker walked a pace behind her.

"What do you think of the project?" Eleanor inquired.

"It's an ideal situation," admitted Joker. "Winters can be tough. Travelin' is fun, but havin' a proper home... No one would complain 'bout consistent hot showers, sturdy roof, and a place to settle."

"Have you looked over the latest batch of blueprints?"

"Yes," he said slowly, drawing out the word. "Can't say I understand 'em though, sorry."

"You and me both," Eleanor groaned.

"My lady!" Finnian said cheerfully the moment Eleanor stepped out the back door.

"Finny," Eleanor cooed. "Come here, sweet boy." Finnian dashed over to her. She reached up and straightened his sunhat. Eleanor had bought him dozens over the years, but he loved the first one he gave her the most. "Did you finish watering?"

Finnian nodded happily. "Yep!"

"Anything new planted this weekend?"

"Added some snapdragons and foxglove," chirped Finnian.

"... Not in the same area, I hope?"

"Right next to each other, actually!"

"Aha."

(✹)

Eleanor lounged in a comfortable seat on the back patio. Finnian set up an umbrella for her while Snake and Joker set up her late lunch. Normally she would talk with one—or all—of them but that day she felt too drained. She ate methodically, not really thinking straight.

She managed to eat about half her lunch until her movements felt sluggish.

Eleanor's eyes grew heavy.

Ah... I actually skipped breakfast too, didn't I?

She had woken up early that day to get started on the paperwork. Ciel preferred to eat very sparingly in the morning—he always grew queasy if he had much more than tea and maybe a scone or two—so big breakfasts weren't standard at the Phantomhive manor. Eleanor had asked Snake to only prepare her some tea, which was finished well before noon.

She had to get the paperwork finished tonight so it could be sent out in the morning. They were waiting for her approvals before moving forward and every delay on her end increased the likelihood the essentials would not be prepared for the Circus upon their return to London.

But...

Her whole body felt pleasantly lethargic. With the warm sun beating down on her, and the occasional breeze tickling her hair, Eleanor felt completely at ease. She was safe as can be, surrounded by capable people who would do everything in their power to protect her. She had good food in her stomach.

Maybe... just a little bit longer of a break...?

She would surely wake up within ten minutes. She was tired, but not that tired, right...?

Eleanor let her eyes droop close, and her mind drifted away.

(✹)

Ciel frowned.

It was dinner time at the Phantomhive manor, the one meal Ciel and Eleanor made it a point to always eat together, even when they had to work.

Ciel rarely ate a large enough breakfast to justify joining her, and lunches he would take in his office when he had work to do. He knew she also had work to go through that day, and so the two had silently agreed to not take lunch together. It was more efficient that way.

However, it was dinner now.

The table was set with an array of delicious food spread out, yet his fiancée was nowhere to be seen.

"Where is Elly?" Ciel asked Sebastian.

Sebastian cocked his head, listening for something. "Judging from the chatter of the servants, she is in the back."

"In the—?" Ciel sighed, standing up from his seat. He walked quickly through the mansion, pushing open the backdoor to search for her.

He was momentarily surprised to find her resting on one of the lounge chairs. The servants of the Phantomhive manor fluttered around her.

"Should we wake her—?" Finnian nervously clutched his hands together.

"No, she's sleeping so peacefully," Mey-Rin protested.

"But she'll miss another meal," Joker pointed out.

"Another?" Baldroy whispered.

"Lady Eleanor missed breakfast and took a very late lunch," explained Snake.

"She shouldn't miss dinner, too," Mey-Rin hemmed and hawed. "But look at her!"

Indeed. Ciel rarely got to see Eleanor's peaceful face. They slept separately most nights she visited, only sharing a bed if one or the other felt... unpleasant. Ciel would sooner chew on bark than verbally admit he was having a bad day and wanted her to pamper him, but thankfully his bride-to-be had an excellent intuition for it. And when she wanted it, she would verbalize it.

As much as Ciel enjoyed to see her so at ease, it perturbed him she would nap so haphazardly. If she was tired, she would have gone to bed. Sleeping outside could have caused skin damage, bug bites, or—worse—potential kidnappings if Sebastian was in one of his moods.

It was unlike her to do that. Was she that tired?

"She's been workin' very hard," said Joker.

"With what?" Mey-Rin asked.

"The park," Joker explained.

Ciel tapped his cane on the ground, startling all the servants by his announcement. Ciel coolly assessed them, his gaze moving between Joker and Snake. "Elaborate."

"She's been reviewing 'lot of paperwork regardin' the park project," explained Joker.

"She said it had to be sent out tomorrow morning," added Snake. One of Snake's pets popped their head out of his front pocket, their tongue flicking out. "'Every submission has been exhausting for her,' said Emily."

"Exhausting?" Ciel's eye narrowed. "... Snake, put Elly in her bed. Joker, take me to her office and show me the paperwork. The rest of you, clean up dinner."

"Yes, my lord."

Joker, Sebastian, and Ciel headed to Eleanor's office. It was down the hall from Ciel's. Ciel had personally picked out all the furniture to ensure she would be comfortable and able to work efficiently. Upon entering the room, Joker moved to shut the window, while Ciel went straight for the desk.

Ciel immediately noticed how most of the paperwork had Eleanor's curly handwriting all over it, in red ink.

Ciel's brow furrowed as he picked up the first stack, quickly flipping through it. "She's thoroughly marked it up. It's riddled with mistakes."

"Yes," said Joker. "Lady Eleanor mentioned she had to go through every 'port at least three times."

"Three—?" Aghast and enraged, Ciel crumpled the paperwork. "What kind of incompetent company did she hire?!" Ciel tossed the papers back onto the table. "Darles?"

Darles was known as one of the finer construction companies in London. They had brilliant engineers, and many nobles vouched for their flawless work.

Yet his Elly was needing to exhaust herself to correct their work?

An insult. They're insulting her.

Ciel's jaw clenched tightly in anger. "Sebastian."

Sebastian bowed, awaiting his order.

"Schedule a meeting with the owner of Darles tomorrow morning."

Sebastian smiled. "Yes, my lord."

(✹)

Eleanor nuzzled into her pillow, letting out a soft murmur.

Mm... bed...

Wait...

That wasn't... right...?

Eleanor sat up with a gasp, her eyes widening. Her head whipped around, and she was astonished to realize she was in her bedroom at the Phantomhive manor. Her eyes immediately went to the window where she realized that it was early in the morning.

My deadline!

"Oh dear," she said faintly. She hurriedly threw off the covers on her bed. Her legs weren't quite awake yet, so she stumbled as she flew out of bed. She frantically pulled a robe around her, moving to the dresser to grab a ribbon and tie her hair up.

However, upon reaching her dresser, she noticed a letter addressed to her.

There was a knock at her door. Eleanor grabbed the letter as she mumbled, "Come in."

"Good morning, my lady," said Joker and Snake as the two moved forward to assist her in getting ready for the day.

"How long was I asleep?" Eleanor asked.

"It is the next day," admitted Joker.

She bit her lip, redirecting her attention to the letter.

Elly,

Do not worry about your park project. I have finished the paperwork for you. I needed to head into town for other business, so I will deliver it while I am there. Rest well, I will be back in time for our dinner this evening.

Yours,

Ciel

Eleanor sighed with relief. "Oh, Ciel..."

Ciel was meticulous. If he finished the paperwork, then Eleanor had nothing to worry about. She wondered what business would send him to London on such short notice, but she figured if it was important he would have told her.

Eleanor smiled, relieved she could have the rest of the day to do what she pleased instead of needing to work. "In this case... I think a morning bath would be good. I want to go horseback riding too."

Snake and Joker smiled at her. Both bowed and said, "Yes, my lady."

(✹)

Ciel did not have much faith in kindness.

How Eleanor was able to retain any compassion was beyond Ciel.

Then again, he couldn't really fathom how she stomached frequently social gatherings. It drained him to attend business meetings, and he detested having guests in his home. He barely tolerated the other members of the Evil Aristocrats, let alone... urgh... regular civilians.

Or, bleh, righteous nobles.

She had far more patience than Ciel.

Something of which people who came to know her would either appreciate... or take advantage of.

As what was done with Darles.

Ciel refused to believe that any pompous noble would have the attitude to correct mistakes a commoner made.

Would repeatedly correct those mistakes.

In the first place, Darles should not have made those errors. A quick look through was enough for Ciel to tell that either no one had checked the work before sending it to Eleanor—or worse, they checked it and intentionally added incorrect information to either trip her up, or make her out to be a fool.

It was perfectly likely they had correct copies that they kept for themselves, then sent messy reports to his fiancée to see if she would notice or not. And the first time they found that not only did she find them—she corrected them for them—they probably had a long laugh.

At her.

They were probably tickled pink at the idea of making a noble lady do their work.

They mocked her.

How dare they?

She, who was his most precious—

No.

She, who was to be Lady Phantomhive. The Phantomhive family was one of the oldest and noblest houses in all of Great Britain. They were one of the very select families who directly served the royal family. To mock her was an insult grave enough to be sentenced to death.

Nobles knew. Those in the know never bared their fangs against the Phantomhive family because they knew who would win.

Mr. Darles, who owned the Darles company, was not a noble. He was simply a wealthy man who had a successful business. He did not try to break into the noble circle, content with his current social standing.

Even so, ignorance could only go so far.

Even if she wasn't to be Lady Phantomhive, Ciel would not tolerate someone so blatantly taking advantage of her.

He could directly kill him. He could order Sebastian to clean up the mess.

But that would end things too quickly.

He exhausted Eleanor. He should feel exhaustion times ten.

It didn't take long for Ciel to put together a plan.

(✹)

Darles owned a three-story shop on the industrial side of London. Stepping on the first floor, Ciel was greeted by a wave of smoke. The first floor was filled with men pouring over blueprints, drawings, paperwork, and other such things. Many of them waved around cigars, or pipes, talking rapidly.

Ciel's nose scrunched up. He used the back of his sleeve to help filter some of the heavy air, not wanting to irritate his lungs.

Sebastian bent to whisper in Ciel's ear. "Mr. Darles is expecting us, third floor."

Ciel nodded curtly. He cut through, marching with collected confidence. It didn't even take Ciel a minute to reach Mr. Darles' office.

Jeffrey Darles noticed Ciel right away. The older man smiled. "Ah, Lord Phantomhive. Good day, come in, come in."

Ciel entered the office, Sebastian right behind him. "Hello, Mr. Darles."

"What can I do for you, Lord Phantomhive? I must confess, I was not expecting you to come visit personally. Is there a new business venture for the Funtom Company I can assist with?" Jeffrey Darles' smile widened. He sat back down at his desk, gesturing eagerly for Ciel to sit across him.

Ciel slowly took a seat. He took off his hat, moving slowly, silently, and forcing Jeffrey to wait for him to respond. Jeffrey Darles fidgeted, twiddling his thumbs as he waited. When his smile started to twitch, Ciel finally said, "I am here on behalf of my fiancée."

"Ah?"

Ciel cocked his head. Sebastian stepped forward and placed the paperwork Eleanor had worked on the previous day.

"Oh," said Jeffrey. His smile became strained. "Yes. That project. Is there an issue, Lord Phantomhive?"

"Is there?" Ciel quietly asked. "You seem to be forcing my lady to do most of your work."

You exhausted her.

"Nonsense—"

"I would so appreciate it," continued Ciel, "if you would find me a page in that report that does not have an error."

"She is the one mistaken," Jeffrey Darles countered. "We know what we are doing. She is only a girl, my lord, and, well..." He let out a scoff. "Not a well-behaved one at that. Forcing you to do her errands like a dog—"

Ciel closed his eyes as Jeffrey broke off into a tangent. He listened to the man insult his fiancée for well over a minute.

"Truly remarkable," said Ciel.

Jeffrey blinked in surprise. Then he grinned. "Aha. Did not expect me to be so understanding of your plight? Not to worry, my lord, I—"

"Truly remarkable," he said again. "I'm in awe of your witless tact. Your parents must have coddled you in cotton and rainbows for you to be so wholly unaware of when to keep your head down, and mouth shut."

Jeffrey Darles's face turned an impressive shade of red.

"Your services will no longer be needed," Ciel finished softly.

"Hmph. Is that right?" the man scoffed. "Then I wish you and your owner good luck in finding any other firm to accept your project."

Ciel smiled thinly.

There was a rush of noise. Men shouted from downstairs. In minutes, members of the Yard rushed into the office. Two men went to grab Jeffrey Darles. One said, "Mr. Darles you're going to need to come with us."

"What? What for?" Jeffrey demanded. "I've done nothing wrong."

"Of course not," Ciel soothed mockingly. "You haven't done a thing."

Jeffrey paled as the constables grabbed him under the arms and started to drag him out of the office. "What—you?! YOU?!"

"Good day, Mr. Darles." Ciel stood up and placed his hat upon his head. "I would advise you to call a good lawyer... but I doubt you'll have any funds left to pay for such."

Whatever Jeffrey Darles wanted to say in return, Ciel would never know. He was already dragged out of sight, gagged, and stuffed into the back of the wagon.

Tentatively, a young, reedy man entered the office. He was Jackson Darles, Jeffrey Darles' only living son.

Well. Soon to be only living son anyway. Ciel had a feeling the other was about to get in a tragic carriage accident on his way to meet his father at the Yard.

Jackson smiled hesitantly. "Th-Thank you, L-Lord Phantomhive."

"There is no need for thanks," Ciel coolly rebuffed. "I trust my fiancée's project will go forward smoothly now?"

"I-I will personally s-see to it..."

"Good," he said. "Come now, Sebastian."

"Yes, my lord."

You made her so tired she slept through our dinner.

Ciel almost wanted to smile.

Let's see how well you sleep in jail knowing your favorite son is dead, and the other boy you raised as a son was the product of an affair from your wife... who will now inherit everything you held dear.

Jeffrey Darles wouldn't learn about the affair until his wife remarried and Jackson's biological father claimed him, but Ciel decided he would be sure to visit his cell on that day to personally inform him.

It seemed only polite.

(✹)

Four people were seated at a table covered in a white cloth. They were enjoying a lavishly put-together brunch fit for nobles and the like. There were flowers blooming around in the room, and the windows had thin white curtains in front of them to let in the morning light.

At the table sat two teenagers, and two adults. They were Lord Ciel Phantomhive, his fiancée Eleanor Midford, and their guests: Lau and Ran-Mao.

"You're saying this hospital brings the dead back to life?" Ciel said dubiously.

Sebastian poured a cup of tea for Ciel and Eleanor. Eleanor quietly thanked the demon, taking a sip from the aromatic tea.

Lau, seated opposite of Ciel and Eleanor with his aide, carefully cut into his poached salmon. "Exactly."

"We're not interested in the occult, thank you," he said dryly.

Eleanor quietly scoffed into her cup of tea, and Ciel kicked her under the table.

"What if it's not an occult case?" Lau asked.

"What do you mean?" Eleanor asked, subtly kicking Ciel back. The cheeky boy dodged by lifting his legs up.

Lau said, "I hear that Karnstein Hospital makes an awful lot of purchases at the docks you've put me in charge of."

Ciel's only visible eye narrowed. "Drugs?"

Lau took a bite of his salmon. "No, people. They're illegally buying them from overseas. In large numbers, too."

"Likely for human experimentation then to..." Eleanor waved her hand. "... raise the dead?"

"Exactly," said Lau, taking a bite out of the served breakfast.

"Sebastian, go investigate," said Ciel.

"Take Joker with you," added Eleanor with a saccharine smile. "Let's see how helpful he is for investigations."

"As you wish," he said, bowing to them.

(✹)

Joker and Sebastian returned to the mansion the next day with little confirmation.

"Ehhh... unfortunately we couldn't find 'nything concrete," admitted Joker. "We confirmed there's some kind of secret society named the Aurora Society, but the members' identities were kept hidden."

Sebastian nodded. "The group has been careful not to document much, and the workers only know the bare minimum. The facility has a handler who knows more, but the handler's identity remains hidden as they wear a mask when visiting."

"We were able to confirm that the handler will be attending the next major gathering which will be on a luxury cruise."

Eleanor frowned. "A luxury cruise? I can only think of one off the top of my head."

Sebastian smiled. "It is exactly as you believe, my lady. The very same cruise you and the young master are set to attend next week."

"What are the odds?" Ciel mused.

Pretty high for you, Eleanor dryly thought.

(✹)

Ciel and Eleanor took their afternoon tea in the greenhouse that day. The two were seated beside each other at the white iron table while Sebastian poured them some kind of citrus-smelling tea.

"Sebastian?"

"Yes, my lady?"

"Do liches exist?"

"I have not encountered one if they do," he said.

"Shame," she said, clicking her tongue.

Ciel wearily looked at her. "Why shame?"

"Imagine how much fun it'd be if we got to fight a lich."

Ciel stared at her in disbelief. "You're an idiot. Why would you even want that?"

"I'm not sure," she mused, staring down into her teacup. "Maybe it's an old dream of mine. Maybe I've read too many novels. Maybe it's just something deeply ingrained into my soul."

"I'm going to insist you cease reading Lovecraft and other horror stories until your sense of reality has been corrected," dryly advised Ciel.

"Come now, that's not fair," Eleanor protested. "We literally sold our souls to a demon, is it that far-fetched to presume liches exist?"

"Exist? No. Desire to fight? Concerning, to say the least."

Eleanor's eyes narrowed. "You simply do not understand the joy of sparring against fun opponents. I presume that the sensation of my rapier cutting through a skeleton so old it's brittle would be truly delightful. Perhaps even divine!"

"Divine," Sebastian faintly repeated in amusement.

"Like the sensation of stabbing a window," Eleanor persisted.

Ciel folded his fingers together. He leaned on the table, his only visible eye focused entirely on Eleanor.

"I grant you," he said slowly, deliberately, "that I do not understand the pleasure of physical combat, period, but if liches were to exist I would posit that they would not shatter from a mere human weapon."

Eleanor bit her bottom lip. "One could hope."

"One could hope," Ciel allowed. "Should we ever—" Ciel paused, inhaling deeply through his nose. He had a look of exasperation as if he could not believe he was about to say the next words. "—encounter a lich we can return to this discussion on whether or not you should fight it at all."

"I'm going to fight it," she said firmly.

Sebastian, sensing it would be best to leave, bowed. "I will return with the afternoon snacks."

She watched Sebastian leave, idly wondering what that day's snack would be. It was a fair-weather day, so she decided she'd go horseback riding after she ate.

Ciel took a deep breath when Sebastian left. He counted to ten. He let it out slowly.

"Elly if you try to fight a lich I will set fire to every edition of Lovecraft you own," Ciel sweetly promised.

Eleanor hesitated. "Negative reinforcement won't work on me. Books are replaceable. A once in a lifetime fight is not."

"If you agree to not fight any theoretical lich, I will..." Ciel looked pained. "... attend... the... Midsummer's Ball with you."

Eleanor gasped in delight. "With matching masks?"

"With matching masks," Ciel whispered through gritted teeth.

"Deal," she said. "Oh, I'm so looking forward to it! I didn't want to have to go with Charles again—he kept trying to steal my mask the whole time!"

"You poor thing. Woe is your social life."

"It wouldn't be woefully miserable if a certain someone wasn't such a prickly porcupine," Eleanor murmured into her tea.

Ciel reached over and pinched her cheek. He pulled her closer as he sneered. "Sorry Elly, I couldn't hear you over your sheer audacity. Would you please repeat yourself?"

"You're a sour puss," Eleanor defiantly said, and she pinched his cheek as well. He grabbed her other cheek, and she did the same.

The two children squabbled until their cheeks were bright red and swollen. Sebastian returned to the room far too late and awarded both of them a very tired gaze.

(✹)

Two weeks later

Eleanor and Ciel had called all the servants of the Phantomhive manor together. It was late in the evening. Ciel and Eleanor had only returned from a brief outing to deal with another kidnapping/murder attempt. Very standard.

The lord and lady had called for their servants to meet in the front foyer. They came at once, standing between them and the grand staircase. Sebastian handed Eleanor a bag, which she rummaged through until she pulled out thin pieces of paper.

"Good day, everyone," she said, once everyone had gathered. She had a stack of money in her hands. With a wide smile on her face, she said, "Hands out."

The servants of the Phantomhive manor promptly held out their hands, which she then placed stacks of money inside.

"Wha—?!" Joker was immediately flustered when she placed the money in his hands.

"Another bonus?" chuckled Baldroy. "You're spoilin' us, my lady."

"Well," she said, "Ciel and I will be gone for a couple of weeks. You all deserve a proper vacation."

Snake let out something that sounded suspiciously close to a whimper.

"Snake," Eleanor warned, "even you need a break."

"Sebastian gets to go," he mumbled. His golden eyes shined pitifully. "Who will do your hair? Who will cut up your meat? Press your clothes? Shine your rapier? Clean your pistols?"

"I will make do with simple buns, and I can handle the rest," said Eleanor firmly. "You need a break. Sebastian is Ciel's butler first, and while Ciel may not care about Sebastian's health—"

Ciel smiled at that, while Sebastian beamed.

"—I care about yours. Rest. Enjoy yourself."

Snake looked at her pleadingly.

"Puppy dog eyes will not work on me again," she said. She clapped her hands together. "I'm going to head to bed now."

"Goodnight, Elly," Ciel said.

"Goodnight," she said. "Snake, I will get myself ready for bed alone."

Snake looked absolutely devastated as Eleanor brushed past him.

As soon as Eleanor was out of sight, Ciel tapped his cane on the marbled floor twice.

At once, all the servants straightened their back. Their eyes sharpened as they turned to formally address the young lord.

When Ciel tapped his cane once, it was a warning.

Twice, it was an order.

"I have noticed something peculiar these past months," said Ciel. "Something that I do not want to be a pattern." He paused. "It is not normal for civilians to... openly mock nobility, especially to the face of other nobility. Regardless of their true opinions, the average commoner would not be so blatant in their disrespect—if only out of self-preservation. Yet."

Ciel's hand curled tightly on the handle of his cane.

"Yet I have found repeat offenders to this. Once in a while, I can excuse, but multiple times in the same year?" Ciel's only blue eye narrowed, cold and dark. "That is a pattern. I order you to find out why. And do so," —Ciel held up a single finger to his lips as his lips turned up into a cruel smile— "quietly."

"Yes, my lord!"

(✹)

Eleanor stared up at the massive ship, getting a strong sense of Titanic vibes.

"Do we know how many lifeboats are on board?" Eleanor quietly asked Snake who shook his head. "Oh dear, dear, dear."

"Something that big won't sink easily, my lady," Joker said reassuringly.

"Mm-hmm," Eleanor responded, nervous that the ship planned to cross the Atlantic.

She hadn't much thought about the cruise until that day. She had never been on a cruise before, so it was something she had been eager to try. But when she arrived at the docks and saw it... she was instantly reminded of the Titanic.

This boat is going to sink, she thought.

She did not remember any boat-related arc in the story, but...

It was a damn replica of the Titanic and she was in a world where misfortune tended to follow her fiancé like a starved hound who caught the scent of fresh meat.

She didn't know how the boat would sink, but oh... it was going to... it was going to...

Eleanor cleared her throat. Snake and Joker had insisted on coming with her and her family to see her off at the very least. "You two enjoy your vacation, okay?"

"Don't worry 'bout little us," said Joker with a wink.

Snake nodded in agreement.

Eleanor smiled adoringly at the two of them. "Good. I'll see you both in a couple of weeks." She looked back over the boat. "... Provided it doesn't sink."

"You've nothing to worry about," said Edward, coming over to her side. Eleanor's older brother brushed one of his blond bangs from his eyes. He offered his arm to Eleanor, who accepted it. "I won't let anything happen to you."

Eleanor smiled at her brother and patted his arm. "Thank you, Eddie."

Edward flushed, clearing his throat as he looked away.

Her brother had a tendency of becoming flustered when receiving affection. Their parents weren't traditionally open with their admiration and praise until after Eleanor's incident. They had gotten better at verbalizing their love, but were awkward about it.

It did not help that his education adhered to a dated misogynistic mindset.

Her brother attended Weston College. A place currently widely regarded as Britain's finest public school. Weston College touted a strict discipline that stressed the importance of traditions and customs. They raised their students to become the sophisticated gentlemen of Britain through an exclusively boys' dorm life and their individual high-level educational curriculum.

Eleanor had visited the college several times to bring things to Edward, and she had met the students.

They fell into four categories.

One: Socially awkward boys who did not know how to interact with anyone outside their immediate group of peers (like Edward).

Two: Zealots who firmly believed that the rapier at Eleanor's side was blasphemy and she should repent for her sin of daring to even look them in the eye.

Three: Romantics who idealized chivalry and who saw Eleanor as either a potential conquest or a poor damsel who had gone astray from her feminine path and ought to be set straight.

Four: Students who were unperturbed by society and were instead wholly dedicated to academics.

"Y-You shouldn't call me that in public," Edward mumbled, looking away to hide his red cheeks.

"Please indulge me," Eleanor patiently responded.

"F-For now... just this once..."

'Just this once' he says for the hundredth-thousandth time.

Her sweet older brother loved it when she called him Eddie—and let her call her Elly—and when she patted his head or hugged him.

But all of those things were considered childish and inappropriate by his school's standards.

That resulted in him becoming embarrassed and torn between asking her to stop and wanting to ask her to do it again.

And so her brother blushed and looked away to appear as though he was simply indulging her to save face instead of outright admitting he liked being affectionate with his little sister.

If they were born a century ahead, Eleanor had no doubt that Edward would be a doting older brother who wouldn't hesitate to engulf her in a bear hug whenever she was sad.

For now, she would have to settle with (bemusedly) watching him flounder whenever she called him Eddie.

(✹)

Edward and Eleanor toured the top deck as the ship took off. Their mother and father had already split off to meet with their friends—fellow knights who had also joined the cruise with their families—and would not see their children again until either very late in the night or the next morning. It depended on how much alcohol their father consumed. He could turn into an electrified social butterfly with the right amount of booze in his system. Even Francis had a hard time keeping him in one spot once the haze entered his gaze.

The two had briefly stopped by their shared suite to put away the luggage. The cruise suite was massive and continued to feed into Eleanor's Titanic-nightmare. The suite had a private entrance, a separate servants' quarter, adjoining doors, wardrobe rooms, en-suite bathrooms, and it was all so lavishly decorated.

In their suite was a provided map that listed a variety of amenities: a gymnasium, Turkish baths, steam rooms, private massage rooms, two swimming pools—one exclusive for nobles—squash courts, and so on. There were numerous lounges, bars, restaurants, and so on.

A harsh breeze blew across the deck, yanking Eleanor's hat right off her head. She and Edward both made a move to grab it but they were too slow.

The hat fluttered away until a certain demonic butler leaped up and caught it. Sebastian presented it to Ciel who accepted it, dusted it off, and handed it back to Eleanor.

Eleanor smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Ciel."

"You are most welcome, Elly," Ciel replied. "Hello Edward."

"Hello Ciel," Edward coolly returned. "Haven't grown a bit this year, have you?"

"Immediately to the height question," deadpanned Ciel. "Good to know your one brain cell is still keeping you alive," Ciel continued without missing a beat. "Will miracles ever cease to wonder?"

Edward glowered, his cheeks turning rosy. "You—you—brat—!"

"Ah, yes. A truly classic and timeless insult that in no way has gone stale in the hundreds of times you have used it," Ciel snarked.

Eleanor unhooked her arm from Edward, gracefully stepping in between the two before things could escalate. She said, "Eddy, I'm going to tour with Ciel now. Didn't you say you had some classmates on board? Why don't you say hi to them?"

Edward glowered. "Feh. Do what you like."

"Doesn't she always?" Ciel said softly.

"I don't want to hear that from you. I will never accept you as my brother," Edward muttered.

"That's fine," said Ciel as Eleanor hooked her arm through his. He briefly smiled smugly at Edward. "She'll come to my side regardless."

Eleanor resisted the urge to roll her eyes. The two always bickered when together. Although she knew there was no malice, it could still get tiring if it dragged on.

She loved her brother, she really did, but he was too easily riled up. It didn't help that Ciel could be pricklier than an irate porcupine.

(✹)

"—I disagree," said Eleanor.

As she and Ciel (with Sebastian two paces behind) idly toured the cruise ship, they had made small talk which started innocent enough but morphed into a debate on the merit of homegrown poisons.

Namely, the foxgloves Ciel had decided to plant. Foxgloves were deadly when consumed, but their strong taste would instantly alert anyone when consumed. In addition, the victim would be required to digest large quantities of the foxglove. Something Eleanor was doubtful could realistically be pulled off.

"I will concede that foxglove would not be my choice of weapon for subtle acts," Ciel reluctantly agreed. "But that's not its only use."

"Oh?" Eleanor raised an eyebrow.

"When consumed in smaller quantities it can put the subject in a delirious state," he said.

"So does alcohol. Are you going to start a brewery?" Eleanor snorted.

Ciel's lips pursed. "Reactions to alcohol are not consistent enough across the board to reliable. The pain, coupled with the delirium, could be used to... loosen tongues."

"As could breaking someone's thumbs."

"Not everyone enjoys the sounds of crunching bones," Ciel dryly pointed out. "Foxglove is harder to trace. After being treated, they could be released without much fuss."

"As if we've ever released someone after kidnapping them," Eleanor muttered quietly.

Sebastian turned his head to cough in a manner that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle.

"Admit it, Ciel. You just wanted to grow some after you read about them in the latest mystery novel from Professor Arthur," Eleanor accused.

Ciel's cheeks showed the barest hint of pink. "C-Certainly not."

"Liar."

"Truly," he bluffed. "They have a practical use."

"Is that right?" Eleanor snarked. "Then I suppose there's no reason to not invite Professor Arthur to the party we're hosting in July to show off the foxgloves?"

"Let's not be too hast—wait, we're hosting a party in July?"

"Oh, did I not tell you?"

"You most definitely did not."

"Well, I'm telling you now. We're hosting a masquerade in July. We're going to do a murder mystery—completely staged of course—and the guests must solve it," said Eleanor. "I've already pre-written fifty invitations—"

"Fifty?!" Ciel squawked.

"—and I plan to double that when we get back," said Eleanor with a smile. "It will, of course, be at Phantomhive manor."

"Of course," Ciel said faintly.

"So am I inviting the professor or not?"

He glared sourly at her. "... Yes, invite him."

Eleanor beamed. "Shall I ask him to sign the copy of your book while there?"

"I am not some awe-struck fanboy," Ciel blustered. "Now if you would like him to sign, go right ahead."

"Yes, yes~"

(✹)

While Ciel and Eleanor had planned to be on the cruise ship to go on vacation, as luck would have it they actually had to work.

The two planned to infiltrate the secret society to investigate the supposed "resurrections" performed.

Ciel was doubtful there were any resurrections. Eleanor was dubious about having to investigate another cult.

Cults were... always unpleasant. Fanatics were impossible to reason with. Purchasing humans off the black market to use them in there... whatever... could only mean grim situations awaited them.

It could be anywhere from gory worship of torture and misery, to inhumanly cold "research" done to living humans to satisfy a scientist's curiosity. With a cult, really anything could go.

She found it equally concerning they chose to host their meeting on a cruise ship. There would be nowhere for them to hide or run if found out, which meant one of two things.

One, they were delusionally arrogant and did not even consider the idea of being found out.

Two, the cult had enough power and influence to escape prosecution if necessary.

In the answer of one, Ciel and Eleanor could hand them over to the authorities when they reached land.

In the answer of two, Ciel and Eleanor would need to kill all of them. If it was a small enough group they could reasonably make each of their deaths look like an accident—or force them to take arsenic and then forge a fake suicide note describing some insane cult nonsense—however if it was too large of a group then Eleanor and Sebastian would need to go for outright murder.

Which would be a pain in the ass to cover up.

Oh sure they could dump the bodies over the side of the boat and be done with that, but how were they to explain so many missing people? They'd have no choice but to bribe the staff members of the cruise to lie and say that none of the cultists ever made it aboard. Then they'd have to determine if the staff would be liable to keep their mouths shut, or would they have to take care of them as well?

It'd be a huge hassle.

Or... mass murder all of them, then forcibly sink the ship to cover up their deaths by saying they drowned.

Regardless, it was going to be a real pain.

Eleanor, Ciel, and Sebastian put on wigs as their disguises. Ciel used a short, pale blonde wig, and Eleanor wore a long black one.

"You could definitely pass for a blond," Eleanor said approvingly. "You really do look adorable in anything, don't you?"

"Do you want me to kick your shins again?"

"No, thank you."

With disguises in hand, it was a simple matter of infiltrating the secret meeting. Ciel took the lead, confidently leading them to the meeting place. However, when they neared the door, Sebastian grabbed both noble children and pulled them close. He whispered, "They evidently have a secret greeting one must know to be admitted."

Ciel crossly snapped, "You should've said so earlier. What is it?"

Sebastian told them.

Eleanor snorted and snickered. Ciel looked like someone had shot him in the gut.

"If this is one of your jokes, I will not let you get away with it," Ciel whispered, utterly repulsed.

"Steel your heart, young master. Do not hesitate, for they will turn us away if you do," said Sebastian.

And so the three entered the meeting place.

It was in a large ballroom with a stage upfront. There were perhaps a hundred guests, each dressed lavishly. Eleanor recognized a few faces as nobles—she had seen them at parties before—but there were many more that did not. Which implied that the majority of the party members were not nobles, but rather wealthy citizens.

Less of a political hassle to dispose of.

That made her mirthlessly smile.

Not long after entering the ballroom, the trio was approached by a larger man with a trimmed mustache. He coldly asked them, "Is this your first time?"

The man was clearly testing them for the secret phrase.

Ciel swallowed roughly. "The—The perfect flame within us—"

"—cannot be extinguished," continued the man.

"We are—"

"—we are—"

All four of them struck an eccentric pose. Their arms raised up in the air, and their left knee lifted as the four said, "—phoenixes!"

It was a silly pose for the time period. Eleanor had lived often enough with technology that she saw it no different as a type of dance or meme, but for someone like Ciel, it was a truly humiliating gesture. Deplorable. Mortifying. If any of his colleagues in the underworld saw him, he'd die from the embarrassment.

Ciel's face was molten. Eleanor had to bite her tongue to not laugh.

"Welcome to the Aurora Society!" the man exclaimed. He held out a hand. "Here are your badges."

Ciel shakily accepted them. The man left as Ciel handed one to Sebastian before he pinned one to himself, and Eleanor.

A familiar cackle caught their attention. "What a surprise. Little birdy and the young lord."

Eleanor was surprised to see the Undertaker. She was even more surprised that his cackle didn't sound genuine. In fact, it came across forced.

Strained.

Her brow furrowed as Ciel, red-faced, demanded, "What are you doing here?"

What's wrong, my friend?

"Considering the nature of this meeting, it makes sense for my profession, no?"

Ciel shrewdly asked, "Then do you know what this meeting is about?"

"Tut, tut. If you want my information, you need to pay."

Ciel curled his lip in a sneer, "You already laughed. That should be more than enough payment."

The Undertaker's lips twitched. "As you say. But perhaps one more pose?"

The young Phantomhive lord looked at the Undertaker with genuine disgust.

The back doors to the ballroom opened, drawing everyone's attention. A coffin was carried in by four men in tuxedos. Following behind the coffin was a man in a doctor's coat. He was in his late twenties to early thirties, with honey-brown hair and a clean face. From the way the guests murmured excitedly around them, Eleanor and Ciel could tell the man was of some importance.

"—Rian Stoker in person—"

"—the found here? What a pleasant surprise—"

"What will he shows us today?"

Rian Stoker loudly said, "The perfect flame within us cannot be extinguished. We are—" Rian posed dramatically. "—phoenixes!"

The audience mimicked his pose and cried out phoenix.

What an absurd cult, thought Eleanor.

Rian continued, "Thank you all for coming here. Today, I present the fruits of the Aurora Society's research into mankind's perfect salvation through medicine. What is perfect salvation? It is perfect health. A healthy body. Healthy teeth. A healthy spirit. Healthy weather! Healthy is truly magnificent."

The audience clapped.

"Surprisingly tame for a cult," Eleanor murmured to Ciel who snorted.

"Too early to say that. To obtain that health, they could be eating human brains," he muttered.

As Eleanor and Ciel had encountered two cannibalistic cults before, she could not dismiss that possibility.

Rian Stoker said, "There is one great illness our best efforts cannot cure us of."

"Only one?" Ciel mocked quietly. "Medicine has truly advanced since I checked the papers last Monday."

Eleanor cleared her throat to cover her giggles.

"What do you suppose it is?" Rian asked.

"A cure for stupidity?" Eleanor whispered to Ciel, he briefly grinned.

"Death," Rian said dramatically.

"There's your cure for stupidity," Ciel whispered to Eleanor. Eleanor bit her lip, struggling not to giggle. Sebastian smiled in amusement.

"But there is an awesome power which can save us from this misfortune, and that is the medicine practiced by the Aurora Society. Allow me to demonstrate the fruits of our research: mankind's perfect salvation through medicine." Rian gestured to the coffin.

The men who carried it in lifted the lid off to reveal the corpse of a beautiful young woman with long blonde hair.

"Margaret Conner, age seventeen," said Rian. "Her life was cruelly cut short by an unlucky accident." Sniffles and quiet sobs came from a man and woman dressed in black who stood by the coffin. More men came in with a weird metallic machine with two big light bulbs at the top. It looked like something out of a Frankenstein movie. "Truly tragic. Her death brought ill health to her parents' hearts as well. I wish to give them all perfect salvation."

"Is the corpse real?" Ciel asked Sebastian.

"I believe so," answered Sebastian. "It reeks with the sweet stench of death."

The men hooked up wires to the corpse.

Rian said, "Ladies and gentleman, witness the power of medicine! Perfect salvation!"

They turned the machine on and electricity flared between it and the corpse. When the machine shut off, the corpse began to twitch. It raised a hand. Then it sat up.

It looked like something straight out of a horror novel. Like they were witnessing Frankenstein's monster become a reality.

Chills went down Eleanor's spine.

Something is not right here, she thought.

The audience cooed and clapped in awe, but Eleanor did not like the situation. She did not like it at all.

As the mother embraced the stitched-up corpse of her daughter, Eleanor's unease grew. She reached for her rapier, instinctively pulling Ciel behind her.

"Wha—" Whatever Ciel was about to say was cut off as the undead promptly tore out the woman's throat.

Zombie, thought Eleanor.

Everyone watched on as the undead began to devour her mother alive. The people screamed, moving away.

Eleanor dashed forward, ripping out her rapier. She jumped, swinging her sword at its neck as she promptly severed its head.

The body dropped to the floor, unmoving. The guests continued to run away in a panicked stampede until they had left the ballroom.

Eleanor coldly stared down at it. She raised her rapier up at Rian. "Don't move."

"I—" Rian hurriedly pulled out a pistol. She closed the space between them and knocked it out of his hands.

"I said, don't move," she said, pointing the tip of her blade at his throat.

"Already got it?" cooed an unfamiliar voice. A man with trimmed blonde hair, phosphorescent green eyes, and in a suit came riding in a lawnmower. He stopped right before the corpse, pulling out a black notebook. "See, I knew it! She's totally dead. I told them I collected her. Unbelievable." He stared at the zombie for another moment before shrugging and moving over to the deceased mother. "At least this one has a soul."

A reaper.

Reels of the woman's life were pulled out of her lifeless body as the reaper collected her soul. Eleanor clicked her tongue in annoyance. Eleanor took several steps back, repositioning herself between the reaper and Ciel.

He took notice of them. "That butler uniform—are you the infamous Sebas? I'm Ronald Knox of the Grim Reaper Staffing Association Collections Department. I think you know my senior!"

"Do the reapers know something about this?"

"Nah, not the details. We just got reports of bodies walking around after we'd collected their souls, so I came to investigate. But this here is a genuine corpse. I should know—I harvested her soul myself two weeks ago."

"Fine. Let's go," said Ciel.

But in that instant, the reaper jumped over Eleanor and tried to mow Sebastian down. "If the administrative department finds out there's a demon aboard, things'll get way too complicated, you know? And I seriously don't want to work overtime because of it. So do me a favor and die."

"Tt. Deal with him," said Ciel.

"As you wish, my lord."

Eleanor noticed Rian attempted to flee while Sebastian fought the reaper. She whipped out her hip pistol and fired two shots. Her second shot hit his right knee, blowing it apart.

He cried as he crumpled to the floor. Eleanor handed Ciel the pistol, which he reloaded with his spare ammo. Eleanor moved to stand between the supernatural fight and Ciel and Rian.

Ciel peered down at the crying doctor. "Oh dear. Are you really going into shock over a little gunshot?"

The doctor wept, pale and shaking.

Ciel casually slapped the back of the gun across Rian's face, instantly quieting the whimpers. Ciel cocked the gun and pressed the tip of it to Rian's temple.

"If you're going to be useless, I'd rather kill you now and be spared your incessant crying."

"Pl... please... I..."

"Please?" Ciel sneered. He glanced over at his fiancée, his only visible eye gleaming with cold malice. "Elly, is please useful?"

"Not particularly, no."

"There. Please is not useful. I'll give you one more chance."

Tears and snot poured out of the doctor. "Wh-What d-do you w-want to know—?"

"Are there more?"

"Y-Yes... c-cargos... filled... hundreds..."

Ciel's eye narrowed. "How do you stop them? I presume you wouldn't transport such dangerous creatures with no safeguards."

"I-In my cabin... a device... made by... under... sh-should short-circuit them..."

Made by under? Under? Is that the name of a new cult?

"I see," he said. "Thank you."

Ciel pulled the trigger, killing Rian instantly with a clean shot through his temple.

Eleanor raised an eyebrow in question.

Ciel wiped the barrel of the gun clean. "You shot him in the knee. The lower half of his leg was barely hanging on by a few strands of tissue. He was going to die from blood loss in the next few minutes anyway."

"Oh." Eleanor grimaced. "Sorry."

Ciel raised an eyebrow. "Sorry? Is sorry useful?"

Eleanor smiled. "Not particularly, no."

"Then do not waste your breath, his life is not even worth that much."

"Ciel—"

"I know," he said. "Sebastian! Escort Elly's family to safety, then return to us. Elly, let's go to that cabin."

"Yes, young master," said Sebastian as he continued his brawl with the reaper.

Eleanor nodded curtly. Eleanor took the lead, pulling out both of her rapiers and starting a quick pace forward. Ciel re-loaded the pistol.

The doctor's cabin, Eleanor thought, closing her eyes as she tried to picture the map of the ship. Ciel had preemptively obtained a complete guest list. An easy bribe from the staff, and they threw in the cabin locations for everyone on board. Rian Stoker... Rian Stoker...

Ciel muttered, "Second level near the front."

"Thank you," demurred Eleanor.

Things were never that easy for Eleanor and Ciel. When they reached the second hallway away from the ballroom, they were greeted by groups of zombies. Some partaking in the flesh of the guests. Others mindlessly shambling forward.

Eleanor let out a slow breath.

One—two—forward.

One step, two-step, a twirl there, and a spring step elsewhere. With two rapiers, she moved into the horde.

They were slow. They lumbered in a predictable pattern, and their bodies were barely holding on. She did not need much pressure to sever their heads, not like she would an actual living human. Their flesh was already rotten, and there was practically no tissue keeping their spines together. Some of them even took just one step out of their coffin and fell apart immediately.

Old blood oozed from them, a dark crimson red. The air filled with the stench of blood, gore, and embalming fluid as Eleanor danced across the battlefield.

This, she thought. What intoxication.

Indeed, it was such a sweet taste of power. She felt like a lioness pouncing upon helpless prey.

She was in complete control, and they were barely even worth the effort.

With each one that fell down before her, the greater she felt.

This is my power. My strength. Me. I'm doing this.

That time spent on a cold dungeon floor seemed so far away at that moment.

Then it was over. Far too soon. She stood, out of breath and elated, with heaps of corpses around her.

"Oh," she said, disappointed. "Is that it?"

"For now," said Ciel. "Let's keep moving." He paused. "Elly?"

"Hm?"

"How do you know to go for the head?"

"Because they're zombies?"

"So you know what this is?" he asked.

"Kinda, yeah," she said. "Didn't think science would bring it back to life and not the traditional way.

"Traditional way?"

"You know... a lich or a necromancer."

Ciel was entirely expressionless as he deadpanned, "I'm burning your Lovecraft books when we get home."

Eleanor squawked. "Unfair!"

(✹)

By the time Ciel and Eleanor made it to the supposed cabin, something happened to the ship.

Something big, booming, and rattling. It felt like the ship rammed into something massive, and the sound of metal being torn open made their ears ring.

Considering how Titanic-esque the ship was, Eleanor was willing to bet the ship hit and iceberg because of course it did.

Which meant the ship was probably going to sink.

Her stress levels shot up. Drowning was not fun. Drowning was not fun at all. Drowning was one of the worst ways to go. She'd rather be stabbed to death than drown, it was far less painful and terrifying.

And so when she cut through the hoards of zombies, she did so as quickly as she could.

She hoped that the cruise ship had enough boats that her stubbornly chivalrous family would get on them.

However, before they reached the cabin, they ran into an uncomfortably familiar face.

Aleister Chambers, the Viscount Druitt, was holding a glass of wine, completely at ease.

Aleister Chambers had been arrested months ago for sex trafficking minors, but because of his money and status, he had been released. Eleanor was as disgusted to see him on the cruise as she was when she saw him as a judge for the curry competition. The blonde aristocrat beamed. "Why hello. Have we met before?"

"No," lied Eleanor. "That device the men behind you are carrying—did you take it from Rian Stoker's room?"

"And if I did?" he cooed.

Eleanor tightened her grip on her rapier, but Ciel placed a hand on her shoulder.

"We don't know how to use it, and it looks like he does," he whispered.

Eleanor sucked in a sharp breath, bitter disdain in her mouth. Aleister turned away with a smug smile. "Want to see a new world? Come with me."

Eleanor reluctantly sheathed her bloodied rapiers. Ciel took her hand, squeezing it briefly in both a gesture of comfort and a reminder to keep calm. He knew she wanted to kill him. The only reason Eleanor did not hunt Viscount Druitt down after he was released was because she hadn't had the time—Aleister had been annoyingly well-behaved to not justify diverting effort to murdering him.

It'd take a lot more effort to kill a Viscount who was frequently in the public's eye versus some mafia boss that kept a low profile. Should Aleister go missing, people would undoubtedly search for him. If his body was found, it would be difficult to persuade the Yard to not open a murder investigation.

But there he was.

On a sinking boat.

Eleanor would ensure the man did not leave the boat alive. It was far too convenient of a chance.

To Ciel and Eleanor's surprise, one of the men carrying the device was none other than the Undertaker.

"What are you doing?" hissed Eleanor.

"These fellas snagged me on my way to the deck and told me to help carry this," said the Undertaker with a sly smile.

"I don't suppose you know how to use it?" Ciel quietly asked.

He paused. "Depends on who's asking."

"What?"

It was then that Sebastian appeared two steps behind Ciel and Eleanor. He nodded curtly to them. "The Midford family evacuated. They believe the dame was waiting on the opposite end with Ciel."

"Thank you, Sebastian," Eleanor whispered, feeling a bit of her stress ease up.

The men—and the Undertaker—carried the device into a grand foyer with bright red carpet. They placed it on the mid-steps where Aleister said, "Have care, gentlemen. That thing is worth more than your lives."

"Are you going to activate it?" asked Ciel.

"Without Rian? Don't be—"

"Rian Stoker is dead," Eleanor interrupted.

"What a shame," said Aleister not at all sounding like he meant it. He twirled around, a smile on his face.

Two familiar faces entered the foyer from across them. It was Grelle and Ronald Knox—reapers.

When the hell did Grelle get here?

Aleister paid them no mind.

Aleister went on, "It matters not. This is a historic day. The empire Rian built shall fall overnight like Pompeii, and my new empire shall be born! With the power of this device, I shall create a new empire! One ruled with corruption and decadent beauty by those who have become immortal. I call it... the Aurora Empire!"

So if he uses the device, he won't be using it to stop the undead—rather, he'd use it to control them.

"This is getting complicated," sighed Ronald Knox, the reaper staring at the human in exasperation.

In that case, Eleanor thought, pulling out her hip pistol that Ciel had given back to her when she was fighting the hoards. I shouldn't give him a chance to use the device.

"I'll bathe him in red," exclaimed Grelle, revving up their chainsaw.

Aleister held his wineglass over the device. "Tut tut! You wouldn't want this machine to be ruined."

"Excuse me?! What the hell is wrong with you?!" shrieked Grelle as Ronald tried to hold the reaper back.

"This is true power. I defeat you with a single wineglass," exclaimed Aleister, moving the glass away from the device as he laughed boisterously.

Eleanor shot him in the head.

"Snrrrk," the Undertaker giggled. "Ahahahaha, you wasted no time, little birdy!"

"Elly," Ciel said reproachfully, "do you know how to control that device?"

"If it was going to work at all, then it'd be one of the three buttons on the side," she said snidely. "Would you rather have given him the chance to control all of these zombies, then?"

"A fair point," said Ciel. "Of course, we could always ask the Undertaker, couldn't we?"

The Undertaker smiled.

Eleanor blinked. "Huh?"

"You're the one who made it, aren't you? The one Rian said," coolly said Ciel. "You're involved in this."

"You've grown up so clever," said the reaper.

What? Wait, what—?

"If he's involved, then all we need to do is make him talk," exclaimed Grelle, leaping down from the balcony on the opposite side of the foyer. The red-haired reaper jumped into the air, their chainsaw loudly churning as they swung it down at the Undertaker.

The Undertaker whipped out a long wooden post with kanji written down it—a sotoba—and blocked the chainsaw. Eleanor had seen first hand that his death scythe could change shape, and she knew he normally kept it as one of the posts. She was not surprised to see it deflect Grelle's attack, rather she felt relieved.

The Undertaker kicked Grelle away, summoning ten more sotobas each filled with a green aura. He flung several of them at Grelle—who was still in midair—and the red reaper had no choice but to knock them into the skylight above.

Glass ran down upon them. Grelle landed on the foyer floor, stumbling.

The Undertaker had a sardonic smile on his face as he pulled his long, silvery hair back. His phosphorescent eyes shined under the moonlight that poured in from the broken skylight. "How sad that the laughs need to stop."

"You masked yourself beautifully... and with your eyes hidden, even I didn't realize," observed Sebastian.

"Neither did I," said Grelle, straightening up. "He had me fooled. A reaper."

"Huh? How's he able to do anything without his glasses?" Ronald asked, squinting at the Undertaker. "We're practically blind without them."

They are?

"Make no mistake, that man is a reaper," said Grelle.

The Undertaker let out a small, sharp chuckle. Eleanor could tell it was forced. Fake. Stressed. Strained. "That brings back memories. It's been half a century since I was called that."

"You made that device," Ciel cut in sharply. The revelation of what the Undertaker was had perturbed him, but not enough to deter his focus. "As a reaper, you likely have enough knowledge of death on how to cause this—" Ciel gestured to the dilapidating ship. "—madness."

"Yes," said the Undertaker. "I created them. I call them Bizarre Dolls. Want to see how? Try to harvest them with a death scythe."

Eleanor... felt frozen.

He did this?

She was instantly conflicted. There was a neat tear in her mind and heart, two opposing viewpoints warring within her. She did not know how to feel about that revelation.

Eleanor lived in a dark world. She could not—would not—claim any higher ground. She was a murderer, regardless of her reasons. She would not excuse her actions, nor try to justify what she had done.

She chose to be by Ciel's side, and she would remain there. No matter how monstrous she had to become.

She was not on the side of the righteous. She would never say otherwise.

The Undertaker was in a similar world as her.

She took lives for her own sake, and he had in turn done the same.

She had not inquired about his plans, as she had felt no need to.

Yet—

Yet—

He was her friend. The only person in that entire world to know her grim secret and to treat her so kindly. He saw her memories, her traumas, and shame, and he did not begrudge her for them. He listened to her. He talked to her. They shared laughs and joyful moments. It was not a stretch to say that Eleanor thought fondly of the Undertaker.

She did not keep secrets from him—how could she when he saw her memories?—but he had kept this from her.

As a friend, she felt hurt that he had not confided to her.

But as someone who had lived in the underbelly of society for years by that point, she understood why he had not. It was illegal, dangerous, and immoral. Had he told her, Eleanor would have been put in a difficult situation of needing to tell Ciel or keep his secret.

He knew how much Eleanor adored Ciel, and he knew how much Ciel valued his family's honor. What the Undertaker was doing would certainly warrant action on behalf of the Phantomhive family, which would make him... an unwanted enemy.

Ignorance was kinder in that faction, even if it still stung.

Because at the end of the day she thought of him as a friend.

And she had hoped that he thought the same.

Did he?

Did he keep the secret to spare her from choosing, or because he did not trust her?

But—

If he did not trust her, she would not be alive.

The Undertaker was thousands of years old. He was a fugitive reaper. Eleanor simply knowing that much was already a huge gamble for him.

He took that risk because he trusted her. He did not make any move against her because he liked her.

Did he think of her as a friend?

His actions made her think yes, but Eleanor had been burned in the past.

At that point, she did not have the luxury to ponder further. She was in a sinking cruise ship filled with zombies. She had to prioritize keeping her and Ciel alive.

In the minute she already took to internalize the revelation, the reapers had cut open one of the dolls and realized that the Undertaker had prolonged its life by splicing the end with an infinite loop. They were soulless husks, their bodies searching for a soul to fill them. They did not feel pain, nor fear. They were relentless in their hunger.

Why? Eleanor wanted to ask.

For what purpose did it serve him?

"Why—why did you do this?" Ciel asked.

"I cannot answer you, Lord Phantomhive."

"So who can you answer?" asked Eleanor.

The Undertaker smiled at her, his green eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Enough," said Ciel coldly. "Sebastian, apprehend him."

"This is a reaper's business," Grelle said, "stay out of this."

"This is a butler's job, stay out of this," Sebastian retorted.

"Your stoicism is as thrilling as ever, Sebas," Grelle said. The red reaper smiled. "Fine. If it's a fight you want, I'll show no restraint."

"The fact that you know the word restraint is today's greatest surprise," Sebastian said flatly.

"So, simply put, the fastest one wins," said Ronald. He grinned. "Can't see myself losing to an old man like you."

The Undertaker grinned mirthlessly. "Heh-heh. This is just like a rabbiting. So... who is to be the slain rabbit?"

And so the battle began.

Eleanor could not hope to contribute in a battle of supernaturals. Not when they were moving too quickly for her to easily discern. Ever still, she was not one to idly sit by.

She could not use her rapier or gun—human weapons would not harm Grelle nor Ronald—and so in order to contribute, she needed to use something else. As the boat lurched to the side, she aimed her gun up to the chandelier and shot it down right when Ronald attempted to mow Sebastian down from behind.

Ronald let out a gah noise, forced to jump out of the way.

Eleanor coolly assessed the surroundings, looking for other ways to disrupt the environment in their favor. It did not help that zombies kept stumbling into the foyer and Eleanor had to occasionally slice their heads off instead of focusing on the four-way battle.

She called it a four-way battle but so far the Undertaker was effortlessly dodging everything and dolling out damage with each hit.

"My glasses—" shouted Knox as the Undertaker knocked them away from the reaper. The glasses soar straight at Eleanor and Ciel, landing not far from them.

"You have a long way to go if you're still relying on your eyes," teased the Undertaker.

Eleanor hesitated a brief moment before she picked up the glasses and pocketed them.

"What's wrong, lads? Is that all you can do, even three against one?" taunted the Undertaker. "I thought you were going to bag me? Heh-heh-heh."

"Old fart," muttered Ronald.

"The ship is really tilting now, we don't have time to make this pretty!" said Grelle.

"I can't see without my glasses," protested Ronald.

"Make do," snapped Grelle.

Ronald groaned in annoyance. He and Grelle moved in sync as they leapt at the Undertaker with both of their scythes.

However, the Undertaker raised his own scythe—still disguised as a sotoba—and blocked their attack. In that instant, the sotoba glowed green and transformed into the black scythe Eleanor had grown familiar with.

The Undertaker sliced through their guts, sending them flying. Blood gushed from their wounds, pouring out in an amount that would certainly have killed any human.

"How... do you have that...?" Grelle wheezed.

"How else? I smuggled it," the Undertaker answered, raising his scythe. "Well, shall I hunt you now? Like poor little rabbits in a warren."

He swung his scythe that blazed in green fire, and the floor cracked open.

Each swing, he destroyed more and more of the ship.

It was dangerous and reckless. Eleanor had to violently shove Ciel out of the way of falling debris—Sebastian moved to catch him—and only barely made it in time.

And the ship was already sinking.

Far too fast.

The ship split in two and suddenly the whole room fell apart. Eleanor lost her balance as the floor underneath her was obliterated. She fell through, not even having time to scream in surprise.

She plummeted into darkness, her heart in her throat as she heard Ciel shout her name.

Hands grasped her, pulling her away from certain death. Eleanor was lifted into the arms of the Undertaker. He hoisted her up to carry her with his left arm as he jumped smoothly through the falling debris. Eleanor gripped his shoulders before she wrapped her arms around his neck and held tight as the two escaped the dangerous situation.

He jumped outside the boat, landing on a piece of debris that floated. Eleanor shivered from the cold night, slowly pulling away. "... You saved me."

"I would never want to clip your wings, little birdie," he said.

Eleanor smiled hesitantly. "Because... of the... power of friendship?"

"PFFFT." The Undertake wheezed, then started to cackle. "AHAHAHAHA. Oh, little birdy! AHahahahahehehehooohooo. Can I still be your friend?"

"Will ending our friendship magically bring everyone back to life and undo the millions worth of property damage?" Eleanor asked. "I do not have many friends, I am reluctant to lose one. Although I do wish to understand more about... your plan."

"A fair request," he said. "But perhaps this isn't the best time for it."

"I suppose so," she agreed. Her lavender eyes softened, hesitation gripped her tongue. In a moment of openness—of vulnerability—she whispered, "I really don't want us to be enemies."

She felt his hands tighten.

"A sentiment I share," he said quietly.

"But if Ciel is your enemy..."

"I know, little birdy."

There was a moment of silence shared between the two. It was not the comfortable silence they had grown accustomed to when she visited him, but it was not the fraught silence between enemies. Eleanor was unsure what to make of the situation. She wanted to be hopeful—to be sincere—yet past betrayals made her scared.

She always had a habit of dying before eighteen, and one of those deaths had been at the hands of someone she thought of as a friend.

If he wanted me dead, I would already be dead.

She knew that. Logically, it did not make much sense for him to kill her so suddenly after saving her.

Hell, if he only wanted her for her blood, he could be making his escape right at that moment with her. He could have rendered her unconscious and slipped away.

Yet he did not. He stopped right outside the boat, and he silently—patiently—waited for her to share her thoughts. He was giving her a chance to be angry with him, to let out her frustrations at his dirty little secret, and to be timely rescued by her fiancé and his demon butler.

Either he was a virtuoso in manipulation, or he was sincere in what he had said.

Eleanor wanted to believe in the ladder and so she—

She swallowed her nerves, her pain, her scars, and she again—again—opened her heart.

"Oh, that's right," said Eleanor, pulling out the pair of glasses she had nicked. "I didn't know about your eye-sight. I'm sorry, I would have tried to steal a pair off Grelle the first time if I had known."

Eleanor placed the glasses carefully over the Undertaker. His eyes widened, his expression that of perfect shock. Eleanor had never seen the Undertaker so utterly flabbergasted. It was as if she had turned the sky purple, or told him that she could fly to the moon. He was stupefied.

"Do they not work?" Eleanor shyly asked, fighting the urge to smile at his baffled expression.

He opened his mouth to speak. He shut it. It took him over a minute until he found the words.

"I have not seen anything defined in hundreds of years," he said carefully. "I am glad you are the first thing I see. You are beautiful, little birdy."

Eleanor's face grew hot, her heart thumping in embarrassment. Unused to such a direct—and seemingly sincere—compliment on her appearance she did not know how to react. She fidgeted anxiously in his arms, suddenly wishing he was not looking at her anymore.

"I'm not," she whispered, her cheeks burning.

"You are," he disagreed. "It is a shame this world will not let you see otherwise."

Eleanor sucked in a sharp breath, flustered.

"ELLY!"

"And here is your prince, determined to rescue his lionhearted knight," he said with a wry smile. The Undertaker placed Eleanor down on the debris, then leapt back and disappeared in a flurry of shadows. As soon as he was gone, Sebastian and Ciel were at ELeanor's side. Sebastian carried Ciel with his left arm, and he deftly picked up Eleanor with his other arm. The butler hopped across the debris.

"Are you alright?" Ciel demanded. "Sebastian, get us to a boat."

"I'm fine," she said. "He didn't hurt me. He saved me."

"The hell is that madman playing at?" Ciel muttered crossly. "We need to return to London at once. Are you cold, Elly?"

"I'm fine," she insisted. "Really. How about you? You didn't get hurt?"

"Not even a scratch," he snapped. "What did he say to you?"

Eleanor's face burned. "Um."

"I have not seen anything defined in hundreds of years," he said carefully. "I am glad you are the first thing I see. You are beautiful, little birdy."

Ciel stared at her for several seconds, perplexed by her reaction.

"He, um, called me, um, beautiful?"

Sebastian's lips twitched. Ciel confusion was replaced first with disbelief, followed quickly by something dark and twisted.

"I want his head," he muttered.

(✹)

NGL despite the undead army, this movie was filled with delightfully eccentric moments that it completely re-wrote my mood and changed the tone of this chapter. The first three times I wrote the fight scene against the Undertaker I kept adding in scenes like these:

"Does this make you a lich?" Eleanor asked.

Ciel sighed.

"Huh! Maybe it does," he laughed.

Eleanor raised her rapier. "Can I fight you without ruining our friendship?"

He started to wheeze. "Hehehehehehehe."

And

Eleanor whistled, pulling Ciel out of the way of falling debris.

"Undertaker, you look like the archetype grim reaper!"

"Thank you, little birdy!"

"Stop complimenting the enemy," Ciel scolded.

Which was why this chapter took so long to write.

Answer: Campfire in a snowy pine forest.

Question: Ideal romantic (or platonic if not interested) outing with your favorite character from any fandom?

Reviews are love!