Chapter Text
Picture what the average middle class worker, who is fond of nostalgia and appreciates humanity and its art, as well as the world, would do if they had the money of a noble. Near as much money as royalty. Or better yet, in possession of a company with funds they can’t draw from at any time. Even if they did not have much money, imagine that they were given the free will to customize an entire mansion to their liking. The place was not decorated with bright gold and flashing red. No, in fact, those colors could hardly be found throughout this particular mansion. The occasional rose might make an appearance, but that wasn’t flashy. Gold was nowhere to be seen. The interior of the mansion was composed of a dark, sage, floral wallpaper. About a quarter of the way up the wall, a wooden baseboard cut horizontally through the wallpaper, boards of wood vertically down beneath it until they met the base board at the bottom of the wall. Hung up were paintings; not even portraits, though of course, there were some.
The floor was composed of dark wood as well, and the sounds of frantic shoes against the wood echoed throughout the wide hallways. The footsteps passed the study, the master bedroom, a bathroom, a library, a sewing room— faster and faster with each step. They were held to a certain expectation, you know. It was late evening, the mistress should be asleep. But she wasn’t, instead having called upon them in the silence of the night, the place lit only by the candles that they held. And one by one, they entered the phone room. A needlessly large room, but the mistress was always one for space. She hated feeling trapped in. And so, they lined up side by side, in front of her, arms behind their back.
Celine Blanchard. A deathly pale girl standing 5’4”, with piercing blue eyes. The blue was so light, it could nearly be mistaken for white. It looked like she simply had pupils, and nothing else. Her hair was a blonde that rivaled the color of platinum, though wasn’t ready to compete with it quite yet. It was straight, down to her waist, hair typically pushed out of her forehead with a maid headpiece. However, it was the night, and so instead it was pulled back by a simple hair band, and she adorned a nightgown instead of her maid outfit, in slippers instead of neatly shined shoes. She couldn’t be more than sixteen years of age. Really, in the dark of night, she could appear like a ghost. She was unusually stiff in her movements, only adding onto that. Maybe not a ghost, but a corpse? But that wouldn’t be too fair; the sun hurt her eyes, and her mistress had no intent of forcing her outside.
Braelyn Piper might be the opposite of Celine. She was taller, around 6 feet tall to be exact. Probably mid thirties, as far as age went. She spent a lot of time in the sun, in the garden. Currently, she was of a tan complexion, though would pale slightly as winter greeted the household and there wasn’t much sun to give. Her hair was a chocolate brown, fluffy but short, sitting at her shoulders. It appeared that regularly, she’d have bangs, though she’d just woken up and she hadn’t much time to style it, being summoned by her mistress and whatnot. She carried herself in the manner one did if they were a shield. Not stiff like Celine, but firm. Her daily duties as groundskeeper explained the muscles she had. The hard labor was hers to handle. She wore no nightgown, but rather a men’s sleeping top and bottoms. It’s what she found most comfortable, and this was no place of judgement. The freckles all over her face could be seen traveling down to her arms. They were probably all over. Her ankles said as much.
Silver Hendry remained the only butler within the mansion. He was pale, black curly hair always neatly trimmed. Well, not always, but his mistress never seemed to care much and he liked it best when it was a bit longer. His eyes were a hollow black, and like Braelyn, he was littered with freckles, and also scars. He wore, unlike his previously sleeping companions, his butler uniform. It seemed he’d not yet finished with his tasks for the night. He stood, 5’8”, probably twenty five years of age, growing more anxious by the moment. You could never tell, though. He was the stoic sort; you could never tell much with him. The most you could tell was that he never got enough sleep to make up for his late nights working; the bags under his eyes said as much.
The door behind them shut, and Marie Emily walked out from behind them, to stand beside her mistress. She was 5’6”, with caramel colored skin and long, black hair that was always pulled into a neat ponytail. Tonight was no different. Unlike the three previously mentioned servants, her outfit never changed. She wore her maid uniform, and held her piercing gaze as she always did. Her lashes were long and dark, sometimes casting shadows over her eyes. She had a few beauty marks on her face and neck. She seemed to be the top dawg amongst the servants. “Which of you was tasked with preparing Lady Emmett’s room for the night?” She asked seriously, eyeing each and every one of them. There was never any use in lying to her.
Braelyn slowly raised her hand with a nervous frown on her face. “It was me, Marie.”
“If it were up to me, you’d be fired.”
Braelyn bit her lip and dropped her hand, staring at her shoes.
“But, our lady has chosen to be most merciful with you.” Marie sighed softly.
And there was their lady, standing 5’5”, in her nightgown. Her skin was pale, though she only really made appearances out in society if needed. Most of the time, she spent holed up in her sewing room or her study. Her hair was dirty blonde, shoulder length, and her eyes were a bright blue. Not blue like Celine’s, but more saturated. Deep. She held her hands in front of her. The servants seemed to look at their lady for comfort, trying to keep their attention away from her intimidating maid, who deemed more intense discipline needed for such a mistake. Lady Emmett took a deep breath, staring up at the ceiling before she looked back to Braelyn, her eyes reflecting candlelight. The Lady’s brow furrowed and her voice cracked as she spoke;
“You left the window open.”
—
There was no shortage of things to do in the Phantomhive household. There was always something to clean, something to cook, an appointment to make, something to sell, something to pay, someone to kill, something to clean— in no particular order. Every individual who entered the mansion should consider themselves on very careful watch. Many men had died in there, or had been tortured and sent away. But it’s not as though Earl Ciel Phantomhive is exceptionally cruel. He doesn’t order his butler to attack people out of the blue, no, no. You have to be there with malicious intent, that was all. And any individual could have said malicious intent. Because of this, upon the news of a rather mundane sounding guest, Ciel was on guard. Though he never had to be too worried about anything; Sebastian Michaelis, his butler, usually handled the more stressful bits. Like the murder, and the cleanup, also dinner—
What led to this dinner they were to be having tonight was that one Victor Gailia Emmett, a man well known as the founder and current owner of the most relevant clothing company in England, had requested an audience with him on “business”. Business could mean a lot of things; money, malice, murder. Emmett’s company, which was so very curiously named not after Emmett himself, but instead his late wife, was not just popular in England. They supplied clothing all over the world. They were known internationally; Seabrook Co. Ciel was familiar with a lot of the clothing shops he’d seen with this company’s products in them. In fact, he’s sure he owned some himself. They were of excellent quality. But what exactly would a clothing company want with a toy company? Well, it’s not as though Ciel spends his days crafting away, like one of Santa’s toy-making elves. That’s why it is important to stay cautious; there is no real reason why Lord Emmett would want to meet with him.
But even so, the sun began to set and a carriage arrived. Not very flashy, with a curly haired man driving the carriage. Sebastian had met them outside to greet them, and Ciel watched from the safety of his study. The man who stepped out of the carriage didn’t look very harmless at all. He was probably in his late twenties, with dirty blonde hair that was quite long, needing to be pulled into a low ponytail. He wore a blue-gray ruffled shirt, with a black vest, black pants, shoes, and black gloves. The maid that had opened the door was of a tanner complexion, with hair as black as night, long, pulled into a ponytail. Very curiously, at least from what Ciel could tell, Lord Emmett did not seem to regard Sebastian as a servant. Neither did he with his maid, introducing himself, his servant, and accepting Sebastian’s introduction the way one might do with someone of equal status. What a strange man. Ciel will admit, it would be nice to have dinner with someone who wasn’t pushing sixty. The three outside made their way inside, and Ciel prepared to be cautious; Sebastian was eyeing Lord Emmett as though suspicious of something. But what? Well, Ciel was sure he’d know soon.
Ciel met the group in the main hall that greeted them once they walked in. Sebastian announced his arrival, and he made a polite introduction of himself. Unlike so many before, Lord Emmett did not make a comment on how young he appeared. Instead of this, he gave a polite bow. “Victor Gailia Emmett. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“The pleasure is all mine.” Ciel glanced at Sebastian once, but the Butler didn’t give him any meaningful look that hinted away at what might be bothering him about Victor.
“There is still a bit of time before dinner is ready.” Sebastian announced. “Lord Phantomhive invites you to wait in the parlor room until it’s completed.”
Victor glanced from Sebastian to Ciel, as though confused. About what? Ciel couldn’t quite make out. Victor simply smiled and nodded, looking at Ciel instead of Sebastian, despite Sebastian being the one who spoke. “I would be delighted.”
Ciel had sat with so many different people in the parlor room. He got comfortable in the chair, where he typically won most board games. Victor sat, crossing one leg over the other. “How about a game of chess?” Ciel proposed.
“I wouldn’t mind, though I should warn that I’ve only ever played once. You’ll have to remind me of its rules.” Victor warned. Ciel just smiled and nodded. An easy victory, it would seem.
Sebastian set up the game on the table between them, before disappearing to check on meal preparations. Ciel wondered if that meant that Victor wasn’t much of a threat at all. Though he couldn’t say that his maid wasn’t intimidating, looming behind him. Ciel explained the rules of the game, and Victor nodded. He decided to let the man have the first turn, seeing as he was at a hopeless disadvantage. Victor moved a pawn, and the game began. There was silence for five minutes as they made their moves.
“Usually,” Ciel began, “This is typically the time when one would bring up why they wanted to meet.” He moved his knight.
Victor blinked before smiling. “You’re right, how silly of me.” He moved his rook. “I’m quite a big fan of your toy company, Lord Phantomhive. I have a company of my own. We make clothing there.”
“I’m aware of your company. I must say that I admire the respects you hold for your late wife.” Ciel hummed thoughtfully, examining the board. He hadn't a move he wanted to make yet. “What is your proposal?”
“I think our companies should collaborate together on a new toy. A series of dolls, in varying appearances— any child could find one that resembled them. And with these dolls, interchangeable clothing. Different outfits they could wear.” Victor went to move.
“It’s still my turn.” Ciel interjected quickly.
Victor blinked and sat up. “I apologize. You weren’t moving, so I thought it was mine.”
Ciel leaned forward to move his piece. “So, almost customizable dolls.” He hummed.
“Yes, exactly.” Victor seemed enthusiastic about the idea.
“So what are the funds you’d need to start this collaboration, Lord Emmett?” Ciel asked, hands folded.
Victor stared at him, as though confused once again. Ciel watched him lean forward to make a move, and he sat up straight. “I assumed that you would cover the cost that the creation of these dolls would generate. My company would cover the costs of the clothing items, and everything else along the way, such as marketing, distribution, etc. Given that this is my own idea I am proposing.”
Ciel clicked his tongue and sat back in his chair. He had no intention of making a move any time soon. “You’re not a very good businessman.” Who in their right mind would come in with a business pitch, where they would be covering the majority of the costs? Ciel was used to people asking for sponsorship, for money. It was almost as though Victor simply liked the idea of these dolls, and wanted to bring them to life. As though he wasn’t in it for the money.
“I will admit I wasn’t raised as one.” Victor chuckled a little. “But, I think my company is doing fairly well. I have no need to demand more than what is reasonable.” He shrugged.
“If your company is doing so well, why do you need this collaboration at all?” Ciel asked with narrowed eyes.
“I don’t need it.” Victor blinked. Had there been miscommunication thus far. “I simply thought it would be a profound idea, that is all.”
“Wait— how did you move your knight there?” Ciel sat up straight after a moment.
“Which one is that?”
“The horse.”
“Oh— he’s the diagonal one, right?” Victor leaned forward to move his piece back because he’d forgotten which piece does what, and so moved that one incorrectly.
“No, he moves in an L shape.” Ciel shook his head. How could anyone be so terrible at chess?
“Oh, I see.” Victor moved the Knight back to its original spot and then moved it in an L shape from there.
Ciel moved a piece, and Sebastian entered back into the room to quietly wait on them. More like hovering over them; Ciel assumed that meant dinner preparations were going well, for once.
“So, you want our companies to collaborate, where you’re covering most of the costs of doing so, with no catch, angle, or compromise.” Ciel clarified.
Victor moved a piece. “Yes, that is correct.”
Ciel did not move. “Why?” This seemed like it would be the easiest way to get on someone’s good side; behave like a friend, even take a financial hit (only if the idea was a failure, though), just to make it so that the Phantomhive household, that Lord Phantomhive himself trusted you. “A man like you should be more frugal, don’t you think?” Ciel had, of course, heard of Victor before. Most nobles are rather well known. He wasn’t a good businessman because he never knew about matters like that. He was poor, and married to a wealthy woman; Alice Seabrook. He had inherited the company when she passed, and business was as booming as ever. So clearly, he couldn’t be that bad of a businessman. Was this on purpose? A calculated move on his part?
“I want children someday. I don’t know if you do.” The man stared at the board as though attempting to make a calculated move. He looked back at Ciel, who seemed surprised at his words. Most didn’t bother trying to have conversations with him like they would if he were an adult. “I like thinking my children could grow up in a world with toys like that.” The man smiled a little. “This world is evolving quite fast. Every day something new is discovered, something new is improved, and we get closer and closer to a society so advanced I can’t even imagine it. But then, what of the children?” Victor picked up a pawn and moved it three spaces, diagonally. It didn’t take out any other piece, and it wasn’t moved properly. It wasn’t even his turn. Ciel didn’t seem to notice. Victor didn’t, either. He didn’t do it on purpose.
“What of the children?” Ciel inquired further.
“What have the achievements of adults got to do with them at all?” Victor shrugged. “They don’t care about new ways to gain more material wealth. They haven’t the capacity to care about a new technological innovation with a machine they won’t be old enough to use for another few decades. They are being left behind, expected to embrace the new world being made for them when they become adults. But what of the world they live in before that? I know that something as silly as clothes for toys won’t be mind blowing the way scientific innovations are for adults, but it’s certainly better than nothing, isn’t it? Why should the children be left behind?” Victor almost seemed clearer. Ciel would need to wait for Sebastian’s course of action, but this man just genuinely seemed like someone who grew up poor, found the woman he loved, came into a bunch of money, and was determined to honor his wife and do good by the company. Almost as though incorruptible by greed, how strange.
Eventually, the dinner preparations finished. They never finished that game of chess, spending most of the time discussing details of the deal. Victor seemed quite excited. He had a sort of contagious type of smile, one that couldn’t help but make Ciel feel excited, too, even though he was never one to care for such frivolous things as toys or dolls. Dinner seemed to go relatively well. From what Ciel could tell, it didn’t look like Sebastian had poisoned anything. Victor appeared well and healthy once dinner was over. They spent the rest of their night discussing the plans for this collaboration, agreeing to make it official. Out of the goodness of his heart, Victor himself would draw up the contract so as to not inconvenience Ciel. As always, Ciel would have it read through in intense detail, so that he could not be tricked, though he doubted Victor would try something like that. Still, you could never be too careful. Though at some point, Victor had stepped away for a phone call.
Victor’s servant did not follow him, and simply stood a few feet behind his chair, waiting for his return. Victor did not seem overly put off by the darker theme that the Phantomhive mansion held. His own wasn’t full of pastels by any means, but the place just seemed to be so dimly lit. He couldn’t bring himself to care. Why anyone had called for him, here, he was unsure of. Unless it was the blasted Charley Evelyn. Honestly, if he could get out of his ear every ten seconds— he made it to the phone room, which was so nerve-rackingly small. This was how small his own had been back at his mansion before he had it expanded. He couldn’t handle such small spaces for too long. Regardless, he picked up the phone, holding it to his ear. “This is Lord Emmett speaking.”
“Lord Emmett.” It was Evelyn, Victor could recognize such an annoying voice anywhere. “It’s good to see that you managed to get into the mansion alive. Do you have a cohesive plan?” He asked eagerly.
Victor’s face scrunched. “Plan for what?” Evelyn had asked him to “infiltrate” the mansion. He figured that he did not need to infiltrate. He could simply, genuinely, enter and be welcomed. If there was something Evelyn wanted so badly that he was too scared to ask for, Victor could ask to purchase it from Earl Phantomhive. Really, what plan was he on about? This man was everything but put together.
“To kill the Earl, of course.”
Victor’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped. “What? Kill the—“ the elegance of the British accent began to melt away as it was held to a flame. “Are you outta your mind?” He hissed. “This isn’t what I agreed to.” He made sure he was keeping his voice relatively low.
“You did the hard part. You’re in the mansion. Just go back, right over to him, and kill him. It’s easy.” Evelyn insisted.
“Right, with his six foot shadow butler hovering over us.”
“Kill the butler, too, then.” Evelyn huffed.
“Oh hell nah.” Victor had never been told to do something so very stupid before, so seriously. Sure, his friends of the past might dare him to do something idiotic, but they were all aware it was stipid. This man thought it was perfectly logical. “And for what? What’d they do that’s so terrible?”
“I don’t pay you to ask questions. Just do it. Remember our deal.” And the line went dead.
Victor scoffed, setting the phone down on the receiver. Had it been his own, he might’ve slammed it. Perhaps broken it. “You don’t pay me at all, jackass.” He grumbled under his breath, sighing softly.
Well, one thing was for sure. Victor had no intention of murdering anyone tonight. Ciel Phantomhive didn’t seem like the sort of boy that needed to be killed, and neither did his butler. A butler who’d been hyper analyzing him all night, by the way. Victor knew that he had been backed into a corner, however. But, he would tell Evelyn something to placate him. Something like, he was waiting to get closer to them to make their deaths easier to cover up. The room felt like it was getting smaller and smaller, and Victor stepped out, taking a deep breath and recomposing himself. The air cooled and he quit melting, walking back to the room they’d been doing business in with the eerie feeling that he was being watched. Though every time Victor looked over his shoulder as he walked, he saw no one. He was stressing himself out. That was all.
Though, upon entering the room and going back to talking to Ciel, he could almost forget that he was blackmailed into coming here in the first place. He could forget that eventually, he would have to choose between attempting to kill a child, or losing everything he’d fought so hard for. But was it worth it to keep if it cost a life that wasn’t his own? He couldn’t say so. “A business call?” Ciel inquired curiously. He knew that Sebastian must have heard the entire thing and thus would know the contents of it later, but he always liked to hear whatever the person receiving the call had to say, and compare it later.
“You could call it that.” Victor sighed. “Less business and more, do this, do that.” He explained.
“From you?” Ciel asked with a time of the head.
“No.”
“Funny.” Ciel smiled a little. “I didn’t imagine the great Lord Emmett would have a boss he answered to.”
“Oh, believe me, I don’t.” Victor smiled a bit. “There’s not a lick of money or business in this transaction at all. In fact, it’s more like blackmail.” He admitted.
“Blackmail? Really?” Ciel was quite curious. “Well, now you’ve made it known you have a secret.”
“Everyone has secrets, Lord Phantomhive.” Victor smiled. “It is about which gets discovered. Most everyone has secrets they’d rather get discovered than others. I am just like everyone else in this aspect.” He explained.
“Hm. What will you do then?” Ciel wondered curiously.
“I haven’t decided.” Victor answered. “I have two options; I could simply let him follow through on his blackmailing, or attempt to do away with him.”
“And complying with his requests is not an option?” Ciel hummed thoughtfully.
“I’m afraid his requests are so foolish that I’d rather deal with the consequences of my secrets than what might happen if I try to fulfill them. You give an idiot a bit of anything, and suddenly he wants to be god.” Victor shrugged. “But, that’s enough about that. I want to continue discussing this.” He gestured to the plan they had laid out, seeming much more enthusiastic about the topic.
So, Victor may be a man who wasn’t the best at business, but he did not seem entirely a fool, either. It came time for Victor to return home, and he and his maid were seen out by Sebastian. What a very curious man Victor was. Ciel wondered what use he would come to be for him. He eagerly awaited Sebastian’s report of the man, as he typically saw and heard many things that Ciel didn’t. Victor stepped up into the carriage, refusing the polite hand of any servant because he “could do it himself”, and it was foolish to make anyone try to help him take a simple step. He had not yet fully situated himself in his seat, his maid walking around the carriage as she was going to climb on the other side. Sebastian stood outside of the carriage, eyes watching Victor’s maid until she disappeared behind the carriage. He then looked to Victor. “If I may, I should offer you a word of advice, Lord Emmett.” Victor turned his head to look at Sebastian, nodding, waiting for what he had to say. “Most men don’t tend to sit with their legs crossed.”
Victor stared blankly at him for a moment, before he grinned brightly. “Of course. Thank you.” He nodded, and his maid entered the carriage. The doors shut, and they were off. Alive, which was very rare for people involved in the business Victor was involved in. Ciel watched the carriage depart from his study window, thinking about how he couldn’t wait to go to sleep for the night. For a boy who thrives in darkness and lives his life in shadow, he could never stay up for very long. But then, he was always awake early, so it’s not as though he was lazing about. Sebastian walked back into the mansion, eventually meeting Ciel in his study after making sure that the cleanup was going well. What a strange night; everything was going well. Typically, someone had broken something, slipped and fell, or lit something on fire. An oddly peaceful night.
Ciel turned to look at Sebastian. “What was that phone call about?” He asked curiously.
“It appears Lord Emmet has been blackmailed into attempting to kill you.” Sebastian explained.
“Hm.” Ciel hummed and looked back out the window. “I doubt he could make even a valiant effort. He did say that he believed following through with such an act was foolish…” perhaps Sebastian had not harmed him because he was not a true threat. Ciel looked back to him. “What was he being blackmailed for?”
“He did not mention.” Sebastian spoke honestly. Nowhere in the phone call was the motive for this all brought up.
“Hm. Well, I should hope to see Lord Emmett again.” Ciel did not seem to care a lick that someone was trying to force Victor to kill him;
“He was a rather wonderful chess partner.”