The event had already gone on longer than I expected. The outfit was stiff, restrictive—every seam pressing wrong, every movement reminding me of it. But it didn’t matter. I could manage.

I had to.

For Ciel.

Just until the end of the event. That was all. I could hold out that long.

Across the room, Sebastian was already there—moving seamlessly between guests, attending to everything as usual. But every so often, his gaze flicked back to me. Brief. Intentional. Like he was keeping count of something.

But the discomfort kept building—too tight, too warm, too aware of everything at once. My hands curled slightly, then stilled. My shoulders stiffened, then locked. Even breathing started to feel wrong—too shallow, then too sharp.

It was fine.

It had to be fine.

Just until the end.

I exhaled—except it didn’t come out steady. It caught, uneven, sharper than I meant it to be.

That was the moment.

“You’ve reached your limit.”

Sebastian was already at my side, one hand settling firmly at my arm, steadying me.

“And yet you intended to continue.”

“I’m fine—I just need—”

“No.”

Quiet. Immediate.

His gloved hand adjusted the tight fabric at my collar, easing it slightly, the other grounding at my wrist as my fingers tensed.

“Your breathing is uneven. You’re forcing yourself past what you can tolerate.”

“I can stay… it’s for Ciel—”

“The young master did not request your suffering.”

His voice lowered, controlled.

“And I will not allow it.”

His thumb pressed lightly at my wrist, steadying.

“You’ve done enough.”

He shifted, subtly blocking me from view.

“That will be enough.”

His hand guided my arm—not pulling, but leaving no room to argue.

“Walk with me.”