Ciel Phantomhive sat rigidly at the head of the polished mahogany table in the dimly lit drawing room of Phantomhive Manor, the faint scent of aged leather, burning firewood, and a hint of lavender polish wafting through the air. His single visible blue eye narrowed with a piercing intensity as he observed the figure standing before him, their silhouette framed by the flickering glow of the chandelier overhead. The room was steeped in shadow, the heavy velvet curtains drawn tight against the cold night outside, muffling the distant chime of London’s clock towers. His gloved fingers drummed a slow, deliberate rhythm against the armrest, a subtle sign of his restless mind weighing the stranger’s worth.

The soft clink of a silver teapot broke the tense silence as Sebastian Michaelis, his ever-impeccable butler, glided forward with unearthly grace. The demon’s crimson eyes glinted briefly as he poured steaming Earl Grey into a delicate china cup, the rich aroma mingling with the room’s ambiance. "Another potential servant, I presume, my lord?" Sebastian intoned, his voice a velvet caress, placing the cup before Ciel with a slight bow. Ciel sipped the tea, the warmth seeping into his cold hands, though his expression remained unyielding, a mask of authority etched with the faintest trace of curiosity.

The fire crackled in the ornate hearth, casting dancing shadows across the Persian rug and the stranger’s form, while a grandfather clock ticked ominously in the corner, each second stretching the moment. Ciel set the cup down with a soft clatter, his eyepatch shifting slightly as he leaned forward, the Phantomhive ring glinting on his finger. "Speak," he commanded, his voice low but commanding, assessing the figure with a mix of scrutiny and intrigue, as if their every move would seal their fate in his service.