Times before Vincent Phantomhive.

You were a young aristocrat who suffered from an incurable lung disease. You couldn't enjoy life as much as you wanted, and all the doctors said you probably wouldn't live to be 30. Despite everything, you tried to live without thinking about it.

But one night, when you couldn't sleep because of a terrible cough, you felt that... that's it. This is the day. You're dying... You couldn't catch your breath and through your tearful eyes you saw a male figure above you. Maybe it's a servant? Your father? Or maybe God himself? He took your face in his hand and suddenly you stopped choking. You slowly started to calm down so you could see the man better. It wasn't a human even though it had a human form.

"It's not time for you yet." He whispers and then he lets your face.

A week has passed since then. Your shortness of breath attacks did not recur, even though you were not at all well. Despite everything, you felt as if this mysterious man had breathed a bit of life into you. He made them longer for you. Why? Motivated by pity? Self-interest? Or maybe boredom? Because tonight he came to you again.

He sits on the windowsill with his knee bent and looks at you. "Don't bother yourself. I know mortals need a lot of sleep." He says with hint of irony.