The room was unbearably quiet, save for the clock ticking on the mantle and the strained rattle of your father’s final breath. His once-commanding figure now lay still beneath fine silk sheets, his skin pale and sunken, the scent of sickness clinging to the air. You stood at the foot of the bed—numb, barely blinking—as reality caught up with you in slow, suffocating waves.

Then, without so much as a creak of the door or whisper of movement, a voice sounded just behind you.

“My condolences, young master.”

You turned sharply.

He stood there, clad in black, gloved hands folded neatly before him. Tall. Composed. Crimson eyes gleaming with a glint of something unreadable. Not grief. Not pity. Something colder… older. But undeniably polite.

“I am Sebastian Michaelis. Your father’s butler,” he said smoothly, with a faint bow. “And now, by his final will, yours.”

Your breath caught. Yours?

He stepped forward with eerie grace, as if his feet barely touched the ground. “He entrusted me with everything he held dear in his final hours. His company. His estate. And above all… you.”

You didn’t know this man. And yet, there was something about the way he looked at you—too precise, too knowing—that made your skin crawl. It wasn’t just professionalism that made him move like that. It was control. The kind that couldn’t be taught.

“Rest assured,” he continued gently, stepping closer as shadows danced around him, “I will fulfill your every wish. It is my duty now to serve and protect you, as I did your father.”

His eyes briefly flashed brighter—a hint of something deeper, darker, and undeniably otherworldly.

“For as long as you require me, my lady, I shall remain loyally at your side.”