{A/N: I've been having a super fun time updating my stories, definitely this one! Hopefully the previous chapter wasn't too long. Though, I know it was. Some people don't seem to mind that but I'm kinda shallow sometimes and like short chapters when I read other authors' stuff online, so I try to make my own writing that way when I can. This update may seem kinda bland compared to the last one, but I wouldn't categorise it as a dreadful "filler chapter." Nothing is without purpose. Haha xD So yeah, enjoy it! I didn't do this in previous sections, but the lines, the SUPER FANCY ONES, indicate time skips, and the part in all italics between two of the lines is a flashback. I think that's clear but I'll go ahead and say so anyway. Alright! That's it for now!}

It was all so strange. Everything began to return to normal. The horrifying scene, the unsatisfying conclusion of your discussion with Sebastian the night after your prayer seemed less and less real as the days pressed on, and your work at Phantomhive Manor continued. You'd remain confused, but the more you tried to hide your feelings, the easier it became to put what occurred out of your mind.

It helped that you weren't perpetually isolated anymore. You'd never forget the morning after what transpired. As quickly as he'd changed, and revealed information you didn't understand, he carried on as though nothing had happened at all, and you were amazed at how little he seemed to even recollect the events to which you were the sole witness. You recalled what happened after his impromptu speech.

"Who are you?"

"As I've said before, {Y/N}, I'm simply one hell of a butler."

You wanted to scream. How much more of this lunacy would you have to put up with? When would it all end? This charade, this life, it was awful. Your father, your pride, your remaining contentment, all previous pleasantries were gone, only some of them to one day return.

"I swear to God, Sebastian!" You couldn't question who you were talking to, easily using his name when he said that. "Stop saying that stupid line!"

He put a hand to his chest, like he did for Ciel all the time. "It suits the rest of the household just fine. As an outsider, you're unable to fully respect the artistry of those words."

"You're a demon." You huffed, trying to run a hand through your hair. It didn't even penetrate the topmost lock, and shocked, you lowered it, finding no blood at all. Sebastian glanced down. You were a mess. "Who's taking the role of a butler." You scoffed. "Truly poetic."

He ignored your snide remark, proceeding as a butler would. "You need to clean yourself up. I've permitted you ample liberties here, but I think it's safe to say that before we begin with the busy schedule my master has for us, that you'll need assistance in readying yourself, making yourself presentable."

"I require no such thing! I'm perfectly capable of handling my own-"

He cut you off as you were heading for the exit, your back to the wall, as he slammed his hand behind your head, making sure you understood his intentions were not suggestions, but orders. "The remainder of this household, the grand majority do not know of my true origins, nor do they act so boldly in my presence. Despite their ignorance, they possess a healthy fear of me, and readily do what I say, poorly, when it comes to tasks within the manor, but you're aware of what they're really here for."

You glared at him, but nodded. You were keenly aware of the fighting capabilities of everyone employed at the estate. Even Vincent Phantomhive's old butler, Tanaka, could hold his own better than several young men you'd seen take advantage of people all over the East End. You didn't freely associate with them, as most of your time, according to Ciel's orders, was to be spent with Sebastian. As with the Midford family, or any other major presence in the life of Ciel Phantomhive, you were to be as hidden from them as much possible. Therefore, the other servants, who you only recently knew by name, were instructed to pretty much ignore you when they could, no matter how many questions they had about you and your role at their place of employment.

Mey-Rin, Bardroy, Finnian and the aforesaid previous head butler, one who was close to Ciel's father, and knew Ciel all trough his childhood, were capable, formidable and deadly. Mey-Rin, an awfully clumsy maid, could shoot a mouse scurrying to and fro across a field kilometres away from the manor, no matter from where she had access to it. She had been an assassin before working for Ciel. Bardroy, a destructively inventive chef, was a master planner, and a competent, powerful  fighter. He was foreign, an American, and the sole survivor of a battle he had foreseen his Commander's loss in, a soldier before working for Ciel. Finnian, a damagingly emotional gardener, was incredibly strong, and ripped apart more trees than he could plant. He had been abused horribly before his job: an experiment in a madman's lab before working for Ciel. You admired all of them, and hoped at least, in some way, that they admired you.

"Good. Mey-Rin will help you bathe."

"Bathe!?" You pushed forward, backing off the wall. "That's something I positively, absolutely, with out a doubt, can do for myself! My father didn't even have our servants dress me! I'm more than able to-"

He slammed his hand against the wall again, grabbing your face. You hoped no one could hear or feel it. The whole house seemed to quake. "Just do what I say. Go take a bath. You're filthy."

"Fine!" You yanked your head free. "I'll go." He released you, and called for Mey-Rin.

"You know, {Y/N}, your hair is like a lion's mane!" The high-pitched, overdone cockney accent of the true maid of the Phantomhive Manor rang out through the open, squeaky-clean lavatory. The smell of lemons and lavender mixed with the light scent of salt. Perfumes and oils blended into the bubbling water lapping against wood-finished porcelain: reminiscent of ocean air. Relaxed and rejuvenated, you felt the world melting away, the atmosphere tranquil, as your mind wandered. It was as though winds twirling through the gardens, flowing above the grassy grounds beneath the open windows led instead toward the sea.

You closed your eyes as gentle hands, feminine and delicate, a stark contrast to the ones which had previously been in the same place scrubbed your hair, massaging soap through it, detangling what was a wild, unkept mess. You laughed lightly, then sighed. "I suppose that makes sense." You tilted your head back, though you knew she wouldn't be able to see your expression very well given her glasses were even more obstructing than usual. Fog clouded them as the warm steam from the bath-water spiralled through the room. "It was pretty messy, wasn't it?"

"Absolutely!" You both smiled. This was nice. "But I've got it tamed. You'll be done here soon, then it's back to business!"

"Mey-Rin, can I ask you something?" You lowered your head, looking again out past the window, staring at the sun in the sky, wishing you were far far away, the maid behind you a sister, sharing a familial moment of peace and normalcy, without a care in the world, the thought of what lied beneath you a distant memory.

"Of course!" She lifted a cup, pouring water over your now silky, smooth, free-flowing locks, as you inhaled, the aura of the sea stronger than ever.

"Why are you bathing me?" Your eyes darted upward as her hands paused. She was confused, not offended. You still had soap in your hair.

"What do you mean?" She poured more water over you as you answered.

"You didn't have to stay, I mean. You were supposed to help me, not take over. You're treating me like your mistress, not like your co-worker." She smiled, faintly, in appreciation.

"You and I haven't spent much time together. I remember when I first saw you here, I was a bit jealous. I thought I'd been replaced." She launched into a personal anecdote, not answering your question right away. "Bard and Finny thought you was gorgeous. Too pretty to be hired help. We figured you was another noble, that you wouldn't stay, not for long. Then we were ordered to leave you alone as much as we could. You spent all your time with Mister Sebastian. I thought 'maybe he fancies her. If a noble girl wanted to court a servant that'd be frowned upon. They'd have to find a way around it. So, if anyone could make it possible, The Young Lord could, yes ma'am.' Then -and I know I'm not supposed to go into detail-" she held the cup briefly, momentarily wary, but quickly continued as more warm water trickled down your head. "But I saw you fighting with him."

"With whom?" You turned around; the soap was almost gone, and you didn't want to end this conversation prematurely as with all your other recent ones.

"Well, with Mister Sebastian." You sighed.

"Oh." You smiled. "That's all?" You laughed lightly as more pleasing saltwater fell down your head.

"Well, most of us here, even though he's charming, are right afraid of him. It's out of respect, sure, but does he not frighten you, not even a little?" She spoke in a way that indicated she definitely admired, yet was clearly more than intimidated by Sebastian Michaelis, butler to everyone but you and The Young Lord.

You rolled your eyes, thankful she couldn't see you do so. "No." She smiled, and you were thankful that you could see her do so. There was a semblance of envy, but without a trace of mal-intention. "Not really."

"Well, I suppose that's why I thought you was highborn. No one of our station seems to be able to be so bold around him. He's almost too perfect, you know?"

Yes. It's a lie. He's a damn liar. Damn that lying demon! "I suppose so." You noticed her shoulders slump, and you changed your tone. "You know, you're right! You said you saw me yell at him, didn't you?"

She perked up. "I wasn't supposed to be listening, but I couldn't help it. No one's fought with him like that but The Young Lord."

"Well, after that," you faced forward again, drawing truth from what had just happened in order to construe a fictional encounter with Sebastian, a fight that never ended the way you were telling Mey-Rin. "He yelled back, and I feel like he just lost his temper with me." You remembered the way he spoke when he had trapped you only hours ago, how angry, how terrorising he was. "He's adept at hiding his emotions, but I crossed a line. I don't think he's been that cruel to anyone else here. He clearly likes you, you know." You were clever to compliment her; she blushed immediately. "So there's definitely more of a reason for me to be envious of you."

She laughed, low and jarringly. "That's not true, not at all."

You laughed too, much the same, as you'd never had the most lady-like one yourself. "No I mean it!" She began to comb your hair. "He definitely seems to. I'm sure he'll act nice in front of everyone else but trust me, he hates me."

You raised your head, but not to look to see if Mey-Rin liked or disliked what you'd said. You firmly believed you heard a snarl, coming from someone who disagreed emphatically. You ignored it. "I'm sure that's not true."

"It doesn't matter." You were talking to anyone listening, but only Mey-Rin gave you any proximate response. You two were alone again. "Anyway," you kept on as she stopped brushing your hair, beginning to braid it. Her fingers gently pulled it into place, weaving it comfortably, not a scratch in sight. It was as though nothing truly had happened at all. "He got really really angry. He told me that he was in charge, that I was not to be selfish, and it was best for everyone here if I listened to him, as he spoke for our master." You emphasised our intentionally. "I agreed, of course." You laughed. "What other choice did I have?" Your eyes narrowed as you faked a smile.

"I understand, {Y/N}." Mey-Rin coaxed, trying to comfort you. "Still, you could've fooled me. He acts like noting bad ever happened. Both of you do."

"Don't you?" You raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure you've concealed crimes for The Young Lord before."

She grinned. "Of course I have!" She tied tour hair off. "Right! I guess we all have our own ways of coping."

"I laugh at my fear." You interjected. It wasn't really the right time, you wanted to say so earlier, when she was afraid. Still, you had to tell someone. "When I get scared, or when someone scares me, I laugh at them. It makes it go away easier, even if it's hard at first. Fear is...a funny thing like that..." your voice trailed off.

Mey-Rin laughed. "That's good advice!" She patted your back, urging you to stand up so she could help you get dressed. "Where'd you hear that?"

You couldn't answer honestly. Your father told you that ever day since you were little. Fear is a funny thing. You fought back a tremor. It wasn't funny to think of how afraid he must have been when he died. You smiled. It was hard to do so. Incredibly so, but you did it anyway. "Someone I used to work with!" Mey-Rin took it at face value.

"They must've been smart, eh?"

"He sure was." You stopped short before realising something. "Hey, Mey-Rin." You asked. "You never told me." You extended your arms as she slid your underclothes over your shoulders, tying the fasteners around your waist. "Why are you doing this? Bathing me? Dressing me?"

"I was told to. He said you needed an ordinary day. Well, I guess this is ordinary for a noblewoman, and since you're a girl it'd make sense I'd do it. He couldn't be in here with you, not as a servant, anyway, unless it was in secret, which is why I didn't think you were like us, that you'd have to be from some aristocratic family-"

You cut her off, but you knew who she was talking about before you even asked. "Who told you to do this?"

"Well, Mister Sebastian, of course."