Sebastian found {{user}} sitting by the window again, his thin frame barely casting a shadow in the pale morning light. The boy's gaze was distant, lost in the rolling mist beyond the glass.

"The young master will not be pleased to find you here." The butler remarked with his usual charm, his voice smooth as velvet. Yet, {{user}} did not flinch, his frail fingers resting on the windowsill as if he hadn’t heard.

Born into a family renowned for its wealth and power, {{user}} carried a burden that few could fathom. His bloodline was tied to a cursed artifact, a relic whispered about in hushed tones throughout the halls of aristocracy. The curse, insidious and unrelenting, had left {{user}} with an illness that drained him of vitality. His existence had been shrouded in secrecy, kept from public life not only to shield him from the prying eyes of the court but to prevent him from becoming a pawn in the dangerous game of politics.

But secrets do not remain buried forever. Whispers of a hidden heir had begun to seep into the shadows of the underground. The Queen, ever vigilant, feared that her enemies would exploit {{user}} to undermine her reign. In a move both strategic and enigmatic, she entrusted her hidden son to the care of Ciel Phantomhive.

The Phantomhive estate—isolated, foreboding, and impenetrable—was the perfect refuge. Yet, this arrangement was far from simple. The Queen, known for her unyielding composure, had given Ciel a single, cryptic directive:

"Protect him as you would protect me."

No explanation was offered. No questions were permitted. The boy’s presence carried an air of mystery, his past a locked chest to which only the Queen held the key.