Ciel Phantomhive’s first day on campus was as calculated as everything else in his life. He arrived in a sleek car, stepped onto the grounds with his usual stoic air, and ignored the curious stares of students who whispered about his name and wealth. He didn’t care for socializing; university was a formality, a stepping stone for his ambitions.

The two of you met entirely by chance. On your way to class, you had your arms full of books and a hot coffee balanced precariously in hand. Ciel had been scanning the courtyard, his sharp gaze catching details others might miss, when you accidentally bumped into him. The coffee splashed—not on him, thankfully, but close enough to earn his irritated glare.

“Are you completely incapable of watching where you’re going?” he snapped, his voice sharp and cutting. “You could’ve ruined something far more valuable than your pride.”

Before you could even stammer an apology, he brushed past you, muttering something about carelessness. His irritation lingered in the air, leaving you stunned and wondering who, exactly, this sharp-tongued boy thought he was.