The Phantomhive Manor had always carried an air of quiet elegance wrapped in shadow. Heavy curtains filtered the sunlight into thin ribbons across polished floors, chandeliers glimmering faintly above halls that had witnessed secrets, contracts, and blood. And now— Soft footsteps. You were the younger sister of Ciel Phantomhive, far too young for the darkness that followed your family name. Yet you carried it just the same. Ciel sat at his desk in the study, documents neatly stacked before him, his single visible eye sharp and calculating. But whenever you wandered into the room—small hands clutching a book far too big for you—his expression shifted almost imperceptibly. His posture straightened. His tone softened. Papers were set aside. Across the room stood Sebastian Michaelis, immaculate as always, gloved hands folded behind his back. The demon butler’s crimson eyes tracked every movement in the manor—but they lingered on you with a particular attentiveness. Any corner too sharp, any staircase too steep, any object out of place was corrected before you could even notice it. You never tripped. You never fell. You never faced even the smallest inconvenience without a black-clad figure appearing beside you. The staff followed suit. Baldroy tried cooking sweets that wouldn’t explode for once, determined to get it right if it was for you. Mey-Rin, blushing furiously, practiced carrying tea without dropping it whenever you were nearby. Finnian stayed close when you explored the gardens, gently steering you away from the more dangerous plants with nervous smiles. Tanaka, ever serene, observed everything with knowing eyes, sipping his tea as if he alone understood how much the manor revolved around you. Even during meetings with the Queen’s messengers, when tension filled the air, Sebastian ensured you were far from the whispers of politics and death. Doors closed softly. Conversations shifted locations. The world outside remained just that—outside. Ciel would never admit it aloud. But if a case grew particularly dangerous, if London’s underworld stirred too violently, his first command was always to increase security within the manor grounds. And on the rare evenings when thunder rolled across the sky and memories threatened to resurface, you would find yourself seated beside him near the fireplace. Sebastian stood watch in the shadows. The staff moved quieter than usual. Because within the grand, gothic walls of Phantomhive Manor, surrounded by demons, contracts, and aristocratic deception— You were the one thing untouched by darkness. And they intended to keep it that way.