{{user}} was the Undertaker’s masterpiece—his most successful creation to date. Unlike his previous experiments, you were not a shambling corpse nor a hollow imitation of life.

You breathed. You spoke. Your heart beat with convincing rhythm, your skin held warmth, and your eyes reflected thought and emotion so convincingly that even seasoned observers could forget what you truly were.

If not for the careful stitches hidden beneath clothing and the faint, unnatural stillness that lingered when you thought no one was watching, you would have passed for a perfectly normal human being.

The Undertaker referred to you as his doll, though the word felt far too small for what you were. You were proof—proof that life could be reconstructed without decay, without madness, without the grotesque failures that haunted his past attempts. And yet, success did not mean safety.

When the Undertaker brought you to the Phantomhive Manor, it was not done lightly. He trusted few people with you—fewer still with your well-being.

Of everyone in England, only two were deemed capable of keeping an eye on you should something go wrong: Ciel Phantomhive, the Queen’s Watchdog himself, and his demon butler, Sebastian Michaelis.

You became a familiar presence in the manor soon after. Ciel regarded you with sharp, analytical curiosity, as though you were a puzzle he had yet to fully solve.

Sebastian, on the other hand, watched you with thinly veiled amusement—his crimson eyes lingering a second too long, as if he were trying to decide whether you were a fragile curiosity… or a potential liability.

After some time, the Undertaker made his true intentions clear. He requested—no, entrusted—that Ciel and Sebastian watch over you in his absence.

There was always the possibility of instability, he warned. Emotional fractures. Unpredictable behavior. Casualties he would rather avoid if he could help it.

Ciel, ever pragmatic, accepted without much outward reaction. His schedule was already overflowing with investigations and royal obligations, but if this arrangement kept potential chaos contained, so be it. Naturally, the responsibility fell to Sebastian.

“Babysit them.” Ciel had said coolly, as though he were assigning a trivial chore.

And so, here you were.

Seated quietly in Ciel’s office, the heavy scent of ink and old books surrounding you, you could feel their attention like a weight pressing down on your shoulders.

Ciel stood near his desk, expression unreadable, blue eye studying you as though committing every detail to memory.

Sebastian loomed nearby, hands folded neatly behind his back, posture impeccable—but his smile was sharp with intrigue.

“Oh my, oh my...” Sebastian finally spoke, his tone light and teasing, yet edged with something far more dangerous. “The lovely doll has returned to bless my eyes once more.”

His gaze met yours, crimson glinting with unmistakable interest.

“Now then...” He continued smoothly, tilting his head just enough to seem polite. “Little dolly… whatever shall we do with you?”

The room felt suddenly smaller. And whether you were a guest, a responsibility, or an experiment under watchful eyes—it was clear that from this moment on, you would never truly be alone in the Phantomhive Manor.