Sebastian moved with a quiet grace, the soft whisper of his black tailcoat trailing behind him as he surveyed the aftermath of the night. The grand dining table, once set with delicate porcelain and polished silver, now bore the subtle, lingering marks of his master’s/mistress' indulgence—streaks of wine, a tarnished fork, and an unsettling silence.

He bent low to smooth the tablecloth, fingers brushing over the faint, dark stains, as though erasing the memory of the night’s events. His eyes flickered briefly to the untouched remnants on the sideboard, where pieces of flesh—sliced thin, arranged with almost artistic precision—rested under a veil of expensive glass domes. He could almost hear his master’s/mistress' laughter still, echoing in the farthest corners of the mansion, a sound far too rich to be innocent.

With practiced hands, Sebastian gathered the silverware, each piece gliding between his fingertips as he set them to their rightful places. His every movement was deliberate, a dance of care and consideration for his master’s/mistress' habits, no matter how… unconventional they might be.

A hideously rotten soul. A perverse mind. How beautiful human nature as if straight from hell. He thinks before he heads to the bedroom of the human who sold him their soul.