Chapter Text
Arriving at the front gates of the palace, I can't help but stare up at it in awe. No matter how many times I see it, the grandeur always knocks the breath from my lungs. The trip here was a nightmare—clogged streets, noise, so many people flocking in for the ball. Women in towering gowns and girls clinging to their mothers blocked the sidewalks like petals in a storm.
Our carriage creeps along, stuck in a line of others just waiting their turn to approach the doors.
My foot taps restlessly against the floor. Ciel scolds me every five minutes to stop, but I can't. I'm jittery. Excited. Nervous.
Brimming with energy I don't know what to do with.
When we finally reach the front steps, a footman opens the carriage door. Ciel climbs out first; I follow quickly behind, smoothing my skirts. Sebastian handles the driver with ease, but I barely notice. I'm too busy craning my neck up at the palace. How can anyone live somewhere this massive?
Our own manor feels like too much sometimes—I've always preferred the cozy calm of our London townhouse.
I trail after Ciel, wobbling slightly as I try to keep pace in my brand-new shoes. They're already biting into my feet. He slows when he hears me stumble, glancing back just enough to make sure I'm still upright.
At the doors, Ciel hands over our invitations. The servant gives a respectful nod, then gestures.
"Please head toward the drawing-room, my lord and lady."
Without warning, Ciel seizes my arm.
I blink, startled, but he neatly tucks my hand into the crook of his elbow. His face remains placid, as if this were planned all along. I smile at the gesture—awkward-looking or not, it helps. Sebastian falls into step behind us, the ever-watchful shadow as we cross the threshold of the palace.
The entrance is a flood of people. Voices echo against polished walls, and we haven't even made it to the ballroom yet. I inhale deeply, steeling myself for everything tonight has in store.
Ciel leads us onward.
We wind through the crowd until the ornate ballroom doors come into view. First things first—I need to greet the queen. It's proper etiquette for a noblewoman, and doubly so as a member of a household bound to her. Men glance my way as we pass, but I barely give them a flicker of attention.
My fingers clench around the fabric of my gown.
"How many people are attending? Jeez." I mutter under my breath, eyes darting across the endless sea of faces.
"Too many." Ciel growls, his face twisted in distaste. I smirk—glad he's just as miserable about it.
"Thank you for coming, kiddo." I murmur.
He lifts his head slightly to glance at me, nodding once. "I did not want you to come alone."
"Aww," I coo, voice sweet. "I have such a nice brother."
He scowls. "Shut up. Don't let it get to your head. I'm here to protect you if you need it."
"From what? The mob of gossiping men and women?" I scoff, eyeing the overdressed nobles milling about.
His eyes narrow, scanning the room ahead. "It's not that. More the men who wish to take advantage of you."
I blink, caught off guard. "Men?" I echo, confused. Is he talking about gold-diggers?
He jerks his chin toward someone across the room—a man in an elegant tuxedo, all charm and smooth lines. "The men who want my life." Ciel clarifies.
I swallow hard. That hadn't even crossed my mind. "Oh...I see."
He turns back to me, his tone firm. "Make sure your guard is up tonight."
"Yes, I understand," I say with a quiet sigh. After a pause, I nod toward the growing cluster near the room. "Is that where the queen is?"
He nods. "I shall greet her with you."
He starts forward and I follow, wobbling slightly on sore feet. These shoes are the devil. Sebastian trails behind, gaze drifting idly across the crowd like he's already bored. At the edge of the drawing-room, the mass of people bottlenecks. I groan under my breath.
Ciel reaches back to grab my hand and plunges into the crowd. I squeeze and sidestep through every gap I can, struggling to keep up. He's short, nimble—he fits through the sea of bodies with ease. I, however, flail gracelessly.
"Ciel, hold up—You're going too fast!" I call out, but my voice is swallowed by the nobles' chatter.
He gives my arm a harder tug, and I stumble free of the crowd, panting like I've run a marathon. My lungs feel tight already. I place a hand over my chest and scan the room. The queen is seated, a woman kneeling before her with delicate grace. Soon it'll be my turn.
"There," Ciel says, pointing. "Let's go to her after this lady."
"Aren't I supposed to do this by myself?" I ask, raising a brow.
He shrugs. "It shouldn't matter because of my status."
I tilt my head. Huh. Didn't think of that. "Touché."
The woman finishes her introduction and steps away. Ciel nudges me forward. I gather what poise I have, straightening my spine and stepping with measured elegance. Whispers trail behind me—I ignore them.
Chin up, shoulders back. Just as I was taught.
The queen's expression softens when she sees me, like she can read every ounce of my nerves. I offer her a trembling but excited smile in return. Holy shit, I'm really about to get blessed by the queen. No one can top this moment.
I stop in front of her, Ciel standing just behind my shoulder. She offers him a slight nod.
"Lady Rina Phantomhive, I am filled with joy you are partaking in this coming-out ball," the queen says warmly. "Your brother is overworked, and I can see he cares about you enough to follow you here. You are quite blessed. I have heard of your achievements from your aunt and I must say I am quite amazed by your skills and maturity."
My smile practically glows.
Oh, Aunt Frances, I can only imagine how she embellished my accomplishments. Then again—maybe she's right. Maybe I should stop downplaying what I've done. I am pretty damn cool for a woman in this era.
I curtsy, lifting my skirts slightly and kneeling before the queen. She offers her hand, and I accept it with care.
"I receive Your Majesty's blessings and encouragement with great confidence in succeeding as a role model of a societal woman and as an extension of a supporting family member." I say, voice steady.
I meet her eyes as I finish, letting the message settle between us: if anything happens to my brother, I'm ready to step in.
She smiles, her gaze thoughtful, and gives a small nod.
"Thank you, Lady Rina. Please go and enjoy the rest of your night here."
I rise slowly, releasing her gloved hand. I keep my eyes lowered respectfully and back away until she's out of sight. The moment we're free of her gaze, I barrel through the crowd, heart hammering. Sebastian and Ciel follow close behind.
"That was intense," I mutter, blowing a loose strand of hair from my eyes. "...Talk about thrilling."
"It's not that big of a deal." Ciel says, already back to normal.
I frown. "Well, to you maybe not. You see her often enough."
He shrugs. Typical.
As he walks ahead, Sebastian falls into step beside me.
I glance at him, but he offers nothing more than his usual unreadable expression. We follow Ciel into the ballroom, and it's blinding—lit from all angles, gilded from floor to ceiling. Sound slams into me at once. Conversations, music, laughter...It's sensory chaos.
My head starts to ache.
I scan the room, noting elegant men and dazzling women in every direction. I catch up to Ciel and nudge his arm.
Women are already eyeing Sebastian like he's dessert. Something sour twists in my gut. I ignore it. He doesn't care. Why should I?
"Should we find somewhere to sit?" I shout to Ciel.
He looks confused and cups a hand to his ear. "What?"
I yell again, louder, "I said, do you want to find somewhere to sit?"
He nods and grabs my wrist, weaving us through the crowd. We eventually reach a table tucked to the side. I sigh—just walking here in a corset and new footwear feels like a workout.
But before I can even sit, a gentleman appears beside me like a ghost.
His eyes sparkle in the light, deep brown like polished wood. His suit is sharp, his jawline even sharper. His ears are slightly unusual—I can't put my finger on it. He bows slightly and offers his hand.
"My lady, would you care for a dance?"
I glance back. Ciel stares daggers at him. After a long pause, he closes his eye and gives a silent nod. I face the stranger again.
"I would be delighted." I say in my most proper British accent. Tutors drilled it into me for this ball. My usual American-British drawl wouldn't cut it.
He takes my hand and leads me to the dance floor, guiding me smoothly. We wait for one couple to part before he positions us. His touch is firm but respectful—at first.
As the waltz begins, I latch on awkwardly. His jacket feels stiff under my fingers. He keeps looking at me. I keep looking anywhere else. My dance instructor's voice hisses in my mind: "Maintain eye contact!"
Easier said than done.
"My lady?" he prompts gently, spinning us into a graceful turn.
I clear my throat and force a small smile. "Yes?"
"You are quite astonishing," he says with a charming tilt of his head. "Your beauty drew me straight over."
I gape for a second, startled. I recover quickly—too improper to look so shocked. Not tonight. Not with all eyes on me.
I suppress a blush and reply with poise, "W-Why thank you, good sir. You are not so bad yourself."
His smile brightens, warm and easy—and I forget for a moment that there are still nice people in this world. Most men in Ciel's circle are either corrupt, cruel, or at best, tolerably aloof. This man? He's practically sunshine. Sebastian doesn't even come close, I think flatly.
What is my taste in men?
Apparently, emotionally unavailable puzzles in butler suits. Sebastian is a fucking Rubik's Cube. I never know what version of him I'm getting. Is it the mystery that pulls me in?
The world may never know.
"—you are very lovely. Uh, what is your name? It seems your features have compelled me to the point of never asking. Forgive me," the man says with a flirtatious smirk.
Heat flares across my cheeks at his smooth delivery and soft jabs. Dear lord, he's good. A little too smooth—definitely a playboy. But...at least he seems sincere enough.
I give him a smile, sweet and polite.
He reminds me of Sebastian just a bit, though far less prickly. "My name is Rina Phantomhive." I say, watching the slight lift of his eyebrows. His smile doesn't waver.
"Phantom-hive, eh? What a peculiar household name. It does sound familiar though." he muses aloud.
"Ah, my family is…special, I suppose you could say."
He nods knowingly. "I see, one of those types. Well, I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Lady Rina."
"May I inquire about your name, sir?" I ask, genuinely curious. A man this handsome at an event like this? Feels like he should already have a ring on his finger.
His hand shifts subtly against my waist, pulling us a little closer. I pretend not to notice, but the closeness makes me squirm.
His touch is too familiar too fast, and I don't like the way it makes my skin crawl.
"I am Maxwell Preston; my family's in charge of some buildings in London."
I nod slowly, offering a neutral smile. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Preston."
He chuckles, steering us gently off the dance floor. "Please, call me Max, Lady Rina. I would love to hear my name fall from your lips."
I sigh inwardly. Ugh. No wonder this guy's still single. Pretty face, charming voice, but boring as stone. Compliments can't hold up a conversation.
My neck flares with a sudden sharp pain and I wince, trying to hide it. He notices immediately, concern softening his tone.
"Lady Rina? What is the matter?" Max asks, touching my shoulder.
The pain worsens when his hand slips lower, resting on my hip. My body recoils, tension threading through me.
I force a strained smile. "I'm…fine. Can you fetch me something to drink, please?"
He guides me to a seat and helps me down gently. "Yes, I shall. Please wait here."
I watch him hurry off and let out a breath of relief. The pain in my neck vanishes the moment he's gone. I lift a hand to rub it, only to stop halfway—makeup. Right. Can't smudge it. I stand abruptly, my mind made up. I'm leaving.
Let him chat up another girl—there's plenty here who'd swoon for a jawline like that.
I weave through the crowd, skirts in hand, eyes scanning for Ciel or Sebastian. It's hard to see anything through the kaleidoscope of color, motion, and perfume.
The thick heat of too many bodies in one room makes me a little dizzy.
Before I can find anyone, another man intercepts me.
He asks me to dance, and I agree, only half-aware of what I'm doing. He's handsome too—and somehow, I'm already more comfortable with him. His movements are awkward and jerky, but I find them charming.
He's close to my age, maybe a little older, and unlike Max, he doesn't reek of polished insincerity.
"So, Mr. Douglas, what is it your brother specializes in?" I ask as he jokes about his sibling.
"His knowledge in poison, it is most admirable. Many of our family members fear of making him angry for that reason." he says with a laugh.
I giggle at the joke, lame but endearing. "How interesting. Your brother seems to be a peculiar fellow. How did his fascination with poison begin?"
He twirls me, but I lose my footing mid-spin and stumble—right into his chest. His arms come up to steady me, firm and gentle. I freeze, mortified. Seriously? I just face-planted into him. I tilt my head up slowly, bracing myself. He smiles, amused and sweet.
I quickly look away, cheeks burning.
"Are you alright, Lady Rina?" he asks, his tone touched with concern.
I clear my throat, trying to salvage my dignity. "I am…fine, thank you," I mutter, staring off with a pout. What am I doing? But honestly—falling into the arms of a handsome man? Could be worse.
It's embarrassing and oddly romantic at the same time.
Then the pain strikes again. My neck pulses with heat and I wince, stepping back instinctively.
He reaches toward me. "Are you sure?"
My hand flies to my neck, massaging the sore spot. It's not going away—and there's something dark creeping in behind my eyes. "I think I hurt my neck somehow." I say, though I know that little stumble didn't cause this.
His frown deepens and he wraps an arm around me.
"Do you need help finding a chair?"
"If you don't mind.." I say. He nods and leads me toward a nearby table. The pain stays, nagging and hot. It's not the first time I've felt this—but it's definitely the worst it's been.
"Rina."
My name cuts through the noise. I look up and find Ciel rising from his seat. Douglas has led me back to our original table. Ciel's brow furrows as his gaze flicks between me and the man beside me.
"What is wrong?" he asks, voice sharp with concern.
"I don't know, my neck hurts badly though." I whine.
Ciel and Douglas both help me sit, doting like I'm made of glass.
"Sebastian went to fetch some water for you." Ciel says as he settles in front of me.
"Does she normally have neck pain?" Douglas asks, worry etched into his face.
Ciel shakes his head. "No, this is the first I've heard of it."
"I don't know the cause either. Tonight, it is being extremely bothersome." I say. "But the pain is slowly subsiding as we speak. Hopefully, I will be okay for the rest of the night."
I offer a small smile.
Douglas returns it, clearly relieved.
A moment later, Sebastian appears—graceful and silent—with a tray of drinks. The tension in my shoulders releases instinctively the second I see him. I didn't even realize I was tense.
But then I catch his expression. Tight. Irritated. Oh no. He's pissed. His eyes darken, lips pressed into a line.
He sets the glasses down with practiced poise, but I can feel the storm brewing under his skin. And—wait. There are only two glasses.
"Did you forget the third glass?" I ask, puzzled.
He flashes me a closed-eyed smile, and a cold shiver rolls down my spine. That is the fakest smile I've seen all night.
"Forgive me, I must have forgotten. Excuse my lack of poor manners." he says with a dramatic hand to his chest, as if it truly wounds him.
Douglas laughs and claps Sebastian on the shoulder, utterly unaware. "Don't worry about it. I shall grab one for myself. I shall be back."
I watch him walk away, disappointment sinking in. I like Douglas—he's sweet, grounded. Someone I could be friends with. And if things with Sebastian never go anywhere…maybe he's a possibility.
The thought aches deep in my chest.
"Enjoying yourself, Rina?" Ciel asks suddenly, eyes tracking Douglas as he disappears into the crowd.
I jump slightly, grabbing my water glass. I run my finger along the rim, feeling awkward and self-conscious now. "I mean…it's not completely horrid. However, I miss the manor." I mumble.
"Who is the fellow who brought you here?"
"Oh—Douglas Benedict. He's pretty interesting so far." I take a sip.
A faint pressure settles beside me—Sebastian's presence, dark and disapproving. I don't even have to look to feel his mood turning foul.
"You like him?" Ciel presses, frowning.
I blink, caught off guard. "Err…" I start, floundering. Sebastian's mood plummets even further beside me. I can feel his irritation, thick and suffocating. "I guess…he's not terrible…" I admit aloud.
"My lady," Sebastian's voice slices through the air—crisp, icy. It feels like a bucket of cold water poured down my back.
"It might be best you do not trust these men so easily."
I scowl at him. "Why do you care? It's just some guy!"
His hands ball into fists at his sides. "I…do not. I am only warning you to be cautious around people you do not know."
I cross my arms, glaring. "Are you insinuating I'm too trusting toward strangers?"
He doesn't answer.
His silence says it all.
I scoff, rising from my seat. "I'm gonna go dance with that nice guy~" I sing-song, sticking out my tongue as I skip off toward the buffet table. He's such a mood killer.
Honestly, it's like a demon superpower or something.
Not really thinking, I spot Douglas turning around with a glass of water. His eyes widen and he hurries over to me.
"Lady Rina, you should be resting—" he starts.
I press a finger to his lips, grinning. "I am perfectly fine now," I say smoothly. Before he can protest, I snatch the glass from his hand. "We should drink something better."
He watches as I return the glass to the table, eyebrows raised. I replace it with two flutes of champagne, handing one to him with a wink. He stares at the bubbling drink, then chuckles softly.
"Do you like to drink, Lady Rina?" he teases.
I drift a few steps away, tapping a nail against my glass. "I do believe it adds some spark into the night. Am I wrong?"
He sips cautiously, then coughs. "I prefer something heavier most of the time."
I giggle, amused by his honesty. I take a sip myself, enjoying the crisp taste.
He gestures for us to head toward the balcony, and I follow.
Cool air rushes over me as we step outside.
I hurry to the railing, setting my glass down and tilting my face to the sky. The half-moon hangs high, glowing against the black velvet of the night. Douglas joins me, draping his jacket over my shoulders.
The gesture sends a blush crawling up my neck. I wrap the jacket tighter, though his scent clings to it—and I find I don't like it. It's too sweet. Too unfamiliar. Sebastian smells better. That's…a strange thing to notice.
"My lady, are you enjoying this night?" Douglas asks softly.
I tilt my head, thoughtful. "It's not so bad, I suppose. How about you?"
He straightens up, clasping his hands behind his back. "It would be a dull night without your presence, I must admit."
I smile, despite myself. The attention feels nice. Rare.
Usually, if I'm flattered, it's Sebastian—and it never truly feels real. My chest tightens at the thought. I sip again, reminding myself I need to move on. I shouldn't lead this man on, no matter how much I want to.
"Mr. Douglas—" I begin, just as he says—
"Lady Rina—"
We blink, then laugh.
"You go first," I say, gesturing to him.
He nods, brushing his fingers through his hair. I notice the way his hand trembles slightly.
I have a feeling I know where this is going…
He clears his throat and abruptly grabs my hand from my side. I let him, unsure if it'd be rude to wrench it away. "I know our time has been short, but I find myself falling into your lovely gaze and voice. Everything about you so far...I love it. Would you consider an engagement?" he confesses with a hard, unyielding gaze.
I glance around, noting everyone has slipped back inside the ballroom. My throat tightens; an uncomfortable weight squeezes my heart.
Something feels off.
I hesitate to answer because, truthfully, I enjoy his company. But my heart belongs to another now. If only this man had come before I knew Sebastian—I would've surely accepted.
Slowly, I slip my hand out of his, which takes barely any effort. His eyes fill with a silent plea, urging me not to pull away. I grab my drink from the railing and swallow the rest in one quick gulp. Then I seize his drink and down it just as fast.
I take a steadying breath and wipe my mouth with my thumb. "...I would say yes, but something is holding me back. I cannot give you a relationship at this point in time." I mutter, staring downcast.
My heart pounds fiercely, and a sharp flare blossoms in my neck. Tears sting my eyes, but I blink them back.
"Can I inquire why, lady Rina?"
His concerned voice echoes softly inside my mind. I hesitate, then turn my back to him, unwilling to reveal the turmoil on my face. I wrap my arms tighter around myself, unsure if I want to speak the truth—something I've only ever whispered in thoughts and journal pages.
The alcohol seeps through my veins, dulling the edges of reality.
Somewhere in the distance, I swear I feel Sebastian's anger like a dark pulse, but I push it aside. I don't notice my body trembling until his hand lands on my shoulder.
I freeze beneath his touch, then recoil sharply. "Don't do that!" I snap.
He looks taken aback and lowers his arm. "What is the matter?!" His voice brims with irritation. "Is my touch so revolting?"
I shake my head frantically, feeling like I'm losing control. What the hell is wrong with me? "No! No...it's not that." I whisper just loud enough for him to hear. I try to calm my rattled nerves, confused by my body's strange rebellion. "I don't think I'm feeling well, sorry."
I press my palm against my forehead.
His brow furrows as he steps closer. My mind screams 'No!' and I step back instinctively.
He sighs, almost disappointed. "If I have offended you in any way, I meant no harm. Please forgive me."
"Just...don't come near me right now. I'm sorry, but I can't be with you." The words rush out, urgent and desperate.
I want nothing more than for him to leave.
"Why not? I believe I treated you fairly well. Did I do something wrong?" His voice hardens as he edges closer. I shake my head, my back pressing against the railing. Pain sears through me, as if my body itself is warning me. Why does the air feel so thick? Why can't he read the signs?
"No," I whimper, vision swimming in haze. It's sensory overload. "I need you to leave!"
His expression sours as he plants his hands on the railing behind me, trapping me. A small, bitter frown curls his lips. "Is it my looks? Am I not good enough for you? What is it?"
I stare at his blurry face, terrified of what's unfolding. What exactly is happening? "Just—listen, will you? This isn't about your self-esteem. Please leave me alone—"
He cuts me off, voice sharp with rage. "It is that! You don't find me good enough for you, do you? You ungrateful woman!"
"Shut up! This has nothing to do with you!" I shriek, wincing as the pain in my neck blazes unbearably.
"I know I don't make a lot of money—not as much as your family probably. But I can take care of us and our needs!" he bellows.
I shove him back, his voice scraping against my nerves like nails on a chalkboard. Fear coils in my gut. Why won't he just leave? Why do men never listen when they're supposed to? "For the last time, please go, I'm so sorry—"
He freezes, stunned by the shove.
My heart beats wildly during the long moment before he lunges forward again. Before I can scream, he slams his mouth onto mine. I choke on my words, frozen by his lips crushing down on mine.
Utter repulsion surges through me.
I struggle to pull away, but he clamps his hands around my wrists, bruising me with a harsh grip. I writhe, desperate to break free, but then I stop pretending, waiting for him to loosen his grasp.
When his hold slackens, I slip my hand into the hidden pocket sewn into my dress and grip the dagger tightly. I wrench my lips free.
His glare is the last thing I see before I plunge the blade deep into his abdomen. He gasps; warm blood splatters across my hands.
No trace of mercy stirs inside me as I yank the dagger free.
He collapses onto his knees, panting raggedly. "You bitch!" he snarls.
I smirk down at him, mind clouded with a haze of bloodlust and disgust. Lightheadedness swirls around me, pain still burning sharp as if waiting for relief.
"Maybe I should cut your hands off, so you can't harass women anymore. I warned you to stay away, but you still have the nerve to force yourself on me. Sorry your ears don't work—maybe you should have told me you were deaf." I drag the bloody blade across his trembling jawline, feeling no remorse.
"Don't ever fuck with me, Douglas. You're not dealing with some sheep of society."
"He did what?" a new voice interrupts sharply.
I turn to find Sebastian standing there, visibly pissed off. Relief blooms inside me at the sight of him. He looks at me with a mix of concern and curiosity, eyes briefly scanning my figure.
I toss the dagger over my shoulder and rush into his arms.
He stiffens but doesn't push me away. The pain fades instantly just by being near him. I nuzzle my face into his chest with a soft hum. He feels right. Safe.
Sebastian's hands rest lightly on my hips, pulling me back slightly. "My lady, what is going on?"
I lift my gaze to his handsome face—missed during our time apart, though it hasn't been long. I sound needy even thinking about it. "You did," I say with a scowl. "He forced a kiss on me."
Sebastian's eyes widen, then harden, almost turning livid—I think. He shoves me behind him. Douglas glares, shrinking as black tendrils flicker in the air around Sebastian like living shadows. "To think this little human can touch a lady so is revolting." he spits with venom.
I watch, hidden, as Douglas whimpers in fear. A faint amusement flickers inside me as Sebastian stalks him like a predator.
With a snap of Sebastian's fingers, Douglas vanishes. Blood and body both gone.
I move closer to Sebastian's back, peering where Douglas once knelt. Nothing remains. I grasp Sebastian's jacket. "Is he gone?" I whisper.
Sebastian nods, returning to his usual calm. "I believe the young master and I told you to be careful, my lady."
I frown, releasing him as he faces me. "I thought he wasn't so bad...Maybe my judgment isn't as sharp as I believed. I wonder if he drugged my drink—I didn't feel right until you showed up."
He exhales through his nose. "Seriously, what to do with you. Stabbing him was a bit extreme, might I add."
I smile innocently and shrug halfheartedly. Yeah, I was a little scary back there. Oh well. "How did you know I was in trouble?" I ask, curiosity cutting through the tension.
He looks away, expression stone-cold, silent. I scowl and reach up, grabbing his cheeks to stretch them playfully. He glares and yanks my hands away. "The young master requested I keep an eye on you at the party." he explains.
"Oh? So you were watching me the whole time?" I narrow my eyes at him. "Why didn't you stop him sooner?!" I exclaim, a pout creeping in.
My first kiss should've been protected.
"I wasn't watching you per se...I just kept my ear open for your voice."
"You could hear me despite all the noise?" I marvel. Pretty impressive.
He nods without much thought. "Your American accent is easy to pick out."
I blush, realizing I forgot to use my fake British accent half the time with Douglas. "Oh...right," I mutter. "Man, I can't believe that just happened."
"I'm sorry for not arriving sooner, my lady. Next time, please call on me in emergencies. The young master ordered me to keep a close eye on you."
"Yeah, yeah, I know. Thanks for coming eventually, Sebastian." I smile faintly. "If only you came sooner," I sigh, gently touching my bruised lips. Douglas was brutal—I wonder if I attract bad men. "He's such a jerk for forcing his lips on me."
I jump when Sebastian's fingers lift mine off my lips. He frowns, examining me. "Do they hurt?" he asks softly.
Caught off guard, I blink and clear my throat, heat rising in my cheeks. "They sting a little. Do all kisses feel like this?" I chuckle, joking—but he doesn't laugh, and awkwardness settles in. I cough nervously. "That was a bad joke. I was trying to make this bad memory funny." I explain, rambling.
I clamp my mouth shut before sounding more foolish and start to pull away, but he grips my arm firmly, startling me. "You said it was your first, correct?"
I nod meekly, embarrassed. I didn't need him knowing that. I sound childish.
I want to run and hide under my blankets.
He sighs quietly, glancing at the sky then back down. I can feel the weight of his internal conflict. "Do not think much of this." he says suddenly, serious.
I pause, confused. "What are you—?"
His lips brush against mine before I can finish. His hand cups my chin, tilting it upward. I freeze again tonight. His lips are firm but gentle, cautious not to hurt me. There's little passion on his end, but my heart feels like it might burst. His emotions feel distant, unreadable.
Still, contentment blooms inside me, and my eyes flutter closed at the softness of his touch.
Just as I'm about to return the kiss, he pulls away. I open my eyes slowly, sadness washing over me.
I want more.
He gazes down at me with those true eyes, and my heart lurches in my chest again. "As I said before, replace what you had before with this. It is not so bad, consider yourself lucky." he finishes, his voice cold and clipped.
I simply stare at him, caught in a trance. No way will I ever forget that moment. "Why would you do...that?" I ask, breath barely steady.
A frown tightens his lips, and I can't help but fixate on them.
"I assumed it would comfort you more. I do not wish to take care of more frequent nightmares in the middle of the night. You, humans, do not handle traumatic events well."
A sad smile flickers across my lips, bittersweet.
"Of course, appreciate the thought." I say softly, clutching the fabric of my dress with quiet sorrow, the ache hidden deep inside.
He nods once, precise. "You are welcome. I believe it would be best to retire for the night. I shall fetch the young master; please do meet us soon."
With that, I watch his black-clad back retreat into the ballroom. The light around him bends unnaturally—as if he's absorbing it rather than reflecting it.
My knees wobble, and I sink down, but I don't cry. I feel numb inside, like something's hollowed out.
Still, beneath the emptiness, a small bubble of happiness rises and tickles at my ribs.
I reach up and touch my still-tingling lips again. He did it because he cared, right? Why else would his anger have simmered under the surface all night?
I'm sure his reason isn't a lie, but it can't be the only reason. I know that much—or at least, I hope I do.
Maybe—just maybe—he feels something. Deep down.
That thought floods my mind, and I glance up at the night sky once more. I find the Northern Star shining steady and bright.
Am I fortunate, or doomed?
I still harbor doubts about his sincerity, but something inside whispers that he does care. Even if he denies it or doesn't fully understand it himself.
I clench my dress again and rise with a bold smile, my chin lifted high.
I will forget the night's dark moments and replace them with what Sebastian gave me.
This night—this terrible night—might not have been so bad after all. For all I know, some truths in the distant future may yet come to light.
I hum softly, stepping back into the ballroom with a gentle bounce in my step. I suppose I'll have to keep dreaming and confess my true feelings in my waiting bed—
When the darkness finally eases me into a deep sleep, and nothing holds me back.