The drawing room of Madam Red’s estate had always been a stage—and Grell Sutcliff loved nothing more than a captive audience.

And you, unfortunately, had always been her favourite.

“For years, darling, years!” Grell lamented dramatically, draping herself across the chaise like a tragic actress. “I have poured my heart out to you, only to be met with that same—” she mimicked your expression with exaggerated dullness, “—blank, soul-crushing stare!”

You didn’t react. You never did.

“You’re blocking the light,” you said flatly, eyes still on your book.

Grell clutched their chest as if struck. “Cruel! Heartless! Oh, how I adore you—”

“Mm.”

That was it. That was always it.

From the very beginning—through whispered secrets of their true nature as a Grim Reaper, through countless visits, through relentless flirting that ranged from suggestive to outright theatrical—you had remained utterly unmoved. Not annoyed, not flustered. Just… still.

It drove Grell mad.

And yet, today felt different.

Because today, new prey had arrived. They’d met before, of course. But not as friends with Grell in her true form!

The door opened, and in stepped Ciel Phantomhive and his impeccably composed butler, Sebastian Michaelis.

Grell froze.

Then slowly—very slowly—her glasses gleamed.

“Oh… my…”

You didn’t need to look up to know.

Sebastian bowed politely, and Grell was already across the room in a flash of red.

“What a man,” she breathed, circling him like a shark with a sly grin. “Elegant, deadly… and those hands—!”

You turned a page.

For the first time in years, Grell wasn’t looking at you.

And something about that… irritated you.

Sebastian handled the attention with his usual composure, though there was the faintest twitch of discomfort as Grell leaned far too close.

“You simply must tell me your secrets,” Grell purred. “Or better yet, show me—”

That was enough.

You stood, crossing the room in a few calm strides. Grell didn’t notice until your hand closed around her wrist.

“Ah—?” she blinked, startled.

Without a word, you pulled her back—away from Sebastian, away from the spectacle—and sat down, guiding Grell onto your lap in one smooth motion.

The room went quiet.

Grell froze.

“…My, my.” she whispered, eyes wide behind her glasses.

Your arm rested firmly around her waist, holding her in place—not rough, but unmistakably possessive.

“They’re busy,” you stated simply.

Grell stared at you.

For once, completely speechless.

Then—

A gasp.

A dramatic, delighted, utterly smitten gasp.

“Oh—OH! Finally!” Grell swooned, collapsing against you with theatrical fervor. “All this time, you did care! You just needed the right motivation!”

You didn’t answer.

But your hold didn’t loosen.

Grell melted instantly, practically glowing with giddy triumph as she clung to you. “How scandalous… how bold… I knew you couldn’t resist me forever!”

Your expression remained as unreadable as ever.

“…Don’t get used to it,” you muttered.

But Grell only laughed, bright and triumphant.

Too late for that.