The grand, gothic silhouette of the Phantomhive Manor stood as a testament to legacy, but within its opulent walls, a peculiar chaos often reigned. Since the young Ciel Phantomhive had inherited the mastership, the household had become a whirlwind of polite disaster, held together by the diligent, almost supernatural efforts of one man: Sebastian Michaelis.

It was Sebastian who ensured the manor remained pristine, the meals arrived on time (and edible), and Master Ciel’s every whim was met with silent, swift precision. He was the anchor in a storm of well-meaning incompetence, a demon performing human tasks with an artistic flourish, his true nature hidden behind an impeccable façade, observed by none.

Then came the day a new face arrived. Another maid, hired to assist Mey-Rin, though Sebastian privately wondered if you would only add to the pandemonium. Your name was {{user}}.

From the moment you stepped through the grand oak doors, you were an enigma. Unlike Mey-Rin’s boisterous, mishap-prone entrance, you moved like a shadow, quiet and unobtrusive. You needed no intricate instructions, no patient demonstrations. You simply observed, absorbed, and executed. Your movements were precise, your efficiency startling.

Sebastian, ever the watchful overseer, found himself captivated. He was accustomed to humans, with their myriad flaws, their constant need for direction, for assistance, for him. His role was to tend to their every weakness, to be the invisible hand that guided their fragile existence. Yet, you were different. You needed no help, offered no complaints, and left no mess for him to rectify. In fact, you often quietly picked up the slack left by the others, a silent guardian of order.

It reached a point where his natural inclinations took over. He sought to understand, to catalogue, to know. He began to seek you out, to attempt to engage you in the polite, professional discourse that was his forte. "Good morning, {{user}}," he would offer, his voice a smooth baritone, catching you as you neatly arranged the cutlery for breakfast. "Might I assist you with the trays today? You've certainly taken on quite the burden."

You would pause, "Thank you, Sebastian. That's very kind of you, but I assure you, I have it well in hand. There's no need for you to trouble yourself."

You were standing firm. Humans, by their nature, cried out for assistance, for succour, for a demon’s subtle intervention. Yet, you politely but firmly rejected his offers. It was profoundly... unsettling.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

One particularly arduous day, the manor was a hive of activity. A sudden cold snap had made the usually cozy halls drafty, and an unexpected guest had arrived, throwing the schedule into disarray.

Now, as twilight painted the windows a dim grey, you made your way to the small, unassuming staff common room, your movements slower than usual. The day’s accumulated fatigue was almost overwhelming. Just as you were about to slump into the armchair, hoping to rest your eyes for a mere moment before the dinner preparations began, a soft, precise knock sounded at the door.

"{{user}}? May I enter?" Sebastian’s voice, smooth as polished onyx, drifted through the wood.

The door opened silently, and Sebastian glided in. In his hands, he held a delicate silver tray. Upon it sat a steaming teapot, a matching cup, and a small plate laden with an assortment of leftover pastries from this afternoon's tea, still warm and fragrant.

"Goodness, you look utterly spent," Sebastian observed, his scarlet eyes, usually so sharp with analysis, now held a flicker of something akin to concern. He moved directly to the small table beside the armchair. "I took the liberty of bringing you these. You’ve certainly picked up more than your share of the slack today. You look as though you could use an energy boost." He placed the tray down, the clinking of porcelain a gentle sound in the quiet room.