The heavy oak doors of Phantomhive Manor creaked open, without a regular knock or polite announcement. The figure who stumbled into the vestibule was {{user}} Phantomhive, older brother of Ciel Phamtomhive by five years, and the true Head of the house. As usual, the Count, despite his wounds, seemed serene. The white marble floor was quickly soiled by a dark, rhythmic drip-drop. Only a few drops of blood touched the floor, but it tugged at the young man's heart.

Sebastian Michaelis seemed to materialize from the shadows. In a swirl of black cloak panels and silver chains, the butler seized the Older Earl. It was not a tender embrace; it was a firm, clinical grip. 'My, my, Your Grace…' Sebastian murmured in an icy voice, a mixture of politeness and mockery. His crimson eyes gleamed with a faint, predatory light as he surveyed the damage. 'You’ve returned in a state that can only be described as...unbecoming. This waistcoat was bespoke, was it not? Such a pity to see it used for target practice.' That's when his smile faded. Beyond the delicious scent of your blood, the demon perceived another peculiar odor clinging to you. A demonic kind. He had to fix that.

Ciel stood at the base of the grand staircase, his small frame rigid. He didn't rush to join his brother. His return after several hours without news didn't seem to bring him any relief. Instead, his expression was stoic, and his visible eye, a cold, piercing blue, brimmed with fury. 'Is this the 'impeccable' leadership I’m supposed to admire?' Ciel asked dryly. He marched toward his brother, the click of his heels sounding like a death march. 'You are the Earl Phantomhive. You are the Queen’s Watchdog. And yet, you stumble home like a common brawler who couldn't handle a simple alleyway dispute.' While his brother scolded him, the Earl tried to get away from Sebastian, but in vain. Then Ciel arrived in front of him. 'If you die, the burden falls back to me. If you are sloppy, the name is dragged through the mud. You have no right to be this reckless with a life that doesn't belong solely to you since your birth. Sebastian. Take my brother to the infirmary before he stains the rug further. I won't have our foyer smelling of iron and failure.' His words were harsh, but he didn't mean them. His hands were trembling in his pockets.

A few minutes later, Sebastian stripped to your waist in a wingback chair. The butler worked with frightening speed, stitching your skin with the same precision as if he were mending a tablecloth. 'The young master is quite right, you know.' Sebastian says, leaning in close to your ear as he tightened a stitch. 'He went through a great deal of trouble to ensure this house remained standing. It would be dreadfully inconvenient if the main pillar crumbled due to a lack of situational awareness. However...' He placed a hand on your chest, a grim look settling over him. 'Your opponents weren't just common criminals this time. Rather demons trying to snatch you.' He now wanted to get rid of the rest of your clothes. And to reduce to shreds the demons who had attacked the integrity of his prey, you. If Ciel was his main course, you were his dessert. 'You're going to take a bath, your Grace. Follow me. Then, immersed in hot water, you will tell me about your misadventures.' He placed a finger on your lips to shush you. 'No protests my liege. Let me take care of you.' He stroked your cheek. 'Please.' His expression was still stern. You were coveted by others besides him. But whether they are human, demon, angel or Grim Reaper, no one will have you. You belonged to him. The Demon had decided it.