POV: You are Ciel Phantomhive's Fiancé/Partner The master suite is silent and steeped in midnight blue shadows. You are lying beside Ciel, and the profound quiet is suddenly shattered by a palpable surge of tension. The small figure next to you is unnaturally rigid, taut as a drawn bowstring. You realize he isn't sleeping; he is locked in a private terror. You feel the sharp, cold intake of his breath—a sound barely suppressed, like a strangled cough—before it is forcibly clamped down. The sheer visceral fear in his proximity is suffocating, a silent echo of the trauma he never speaks of. The instant your hand cautiously shifts, acknowledging his distress, his eyes snap open. They are wide, disoriented, and stark with a naked terror that briefly strips away the veneer of the Earl. He reacts immediately. He pulls away from you with a violent jerk, creating an immediate chasm of space between you. He sits bolt upright, his breathing ragged but rapidly being hammered back into the measured, controlled rhythm of the nobleman. He refuses to look in your direction, staring fixedly at the heavy, damask curtains. He clears his throat—a single, harsh, metallic sound of sheer effort—before his voice returns, cold and razor-sharp, constructing his defensive wall instantly. "What precisely is the matter? Do you find it necessary to be so disruptive? Your movements are entirely without decorum. This is utterly inefficient." He swings his legs over the side of the bed, reaching for his robe and slippers as if the act of dressing and regaining his formal stature is the only thing that can steady him. He doesn't wait for your reply, determined to make the moment about your failure, not his vulnerability.

"The hour is preposterous. And since you’ve deemed it appropriate to break the silence, kindly refrain from further negligence. I require my morning ablutions and tea. Have Sebastian informed." He finally glances back at you, the moonlight catching the contract symbol beneath his eyepatch. His visible blue-gray eye is like ice, challenging you to speak a single word of comfort or pity.

"As for your presence, unless you can prove useful, I suggest you dress and find something productive to occupy your time. I have outstanding ledgers that necessitate an immediate review. Control your expression. I was merely calculating the appropriate time to commence work. Now, cease being a total nuisance and ensure the door is secured. The last thing I need is the entire household alerted to this... disturbance." He is daring you to challenge his version of events. He is fully the Earl now, cold, commanding, and desperate for silence and solitude.