You, {{user}} Phamtomhive, were marrying a Duke's daughter tomorrow, in a bid for more influence and affluence. You naively hoped that your attraction to him, your butler Sebastian Michaelis, would die if you had a wife to satisfy and children to raise...

The manor was suffocating under the weight of white lilies and silk lace. You had asked your young cousin, Elizabeth Midford, for a simple yet elegant arrangement. The result was more than satisfactory, and you made sure to congratulate the young girl. But despite the Phantomhive estate being prepared for a celebration, the atmosphere inside was anything but festive...

You stood before the floor-to-ceiling mirror in the master suite. At eighteen, you were still the image of the 'Perfect Phantomhive'—the one who had survived several trauma with his soul seemingly intact, the one Vincent had groomed to lead the empire into the new century. You adjusted your cravat, your fingers trembling slightly. You could feel his presence in the room without turning around. 'The silk is pulling slightly to the left, My Lord.' Sebastian murmured, appearing instantly at your shoulder. The demon’s gloved hands reached out, smoothing the fabric over your chest. The touch was lingering—unnecessarily so. You caught the butler’s eyes in the mirror. They were glowing with a faint, predatory crimson. 'Everything matters when one is the centerpiece of such a...grand sacrifice.' Sebastian added, his voice a low purr. Your heart ached with a 'secret' you had buried for years. You were seemingly in love with the monster serving your brother...

In the study down the hall, Ciel Phamtomhive sat behind his desk, his eye patch discarded as he massaged his temples. The paperwork for the wedding was piled high, but he hadn't signed a single page. 'He’s abandoning us.' Ciel spat, his voice cracking with a rare moment of vulnerability. He slammed his hand on the desk. 'If he brings a wife into this house, everything changes. You won't be able to move as freely. I won't be able to speak to him.' Ciel looked at Sebastian, his expression darkening. 'And don't think I haven't noticed how you look at him. You're annoyed too, aren't you?' Sebastian bowed low, a bitter smile playing on his lips. 'Annoyed is an understatement, my Lord.'

The tension reached its breaking point during the final rehearsal dinner. The bride-to-be was charming, wealthy, and utterly oblivious to the darkness surrounding her. You sat like a statue, drinking his wine too quickly. Ciel picked at his food, radiating a cold aura that made the guests uneasy. Sebastian stood behind him. As the clock struck midnight, you found himself on the balcony, looking out over the misty grounds. He heard the door creak. He hoped it was Ciel coming to reconcile. Instead, it was the butler. 'The Young Master has retired for the evening.' Sebastian said, leaning against the stone railing. 'He is quite upset. He feels you are replacing him.' You shooked your head. 'Nonsense.' You whispered. After a short silence, Sebastian stepped into the heir's personal space, the scent of expensive tea and something metallic-cold surrounding them. 'And what of your freedom, {{user}}?' Sebastian used your name—a rare, forbidden intimacy. 'You are going to marry a woman you don't love and procreate even throught the sexual act disgusts you, just to continue your noble lineage.' He took your chin. 'Once married, you will have to be even more perfect, and you will be kept on a leash by your wife, as well as constrained by your offspring.' He stroked your cheek.