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It had been rainng on the day his parents took him on that drive. So comically fitting the events that occured. An undisguised indication of the dark mood in a scene. An obvious trope in any bad movie.
On that day had been felt pretty grumpy himself. Right in the morning, after three hours of interrupted sleep, he had found himself in a rather shitty mood. Having to deal with his dad, whose mood had been even shittier wasn’t helpful.
“Seriously, Ciel, a D in British literature?” he had been saying as he drove him to school. Behind the wheel his dad would always bitch about something—the traffic, their neighbour’s dog or a case he had been currently working on. Regardless of weather, quality of his sleep or what mum would fed them for breakfast—every single morning he would find something to bitch about. And Ciel had never minded as long as he wasn’t on the receiving end of his father’s razor tongue. But in these moods, when he had been worked up about London’s traffic jam and displeased with Ciel’s academic performance, he had been the most difficult to deal with.
“Yes, I know, dad. I’m sorry, but it’s not my fault that Mrs. Crook— “
“Stop blaming Mrs. Crook for your piss-poor grades.” He didn’t yell, but stepped on the gas with so much force Ciel was afraid they would crash into the car in front of them. “Godamnit, I thought literature was your favourite subject.” It was. Before Mrs. Crook. “And you’re dragging our name through mud. When I was your age, I would never settle for anything less than a straight A. That’s what it means to be a Phantomhive.”
Yes, yes… You are a Phantomhive, we are Phantomhives, his dad would always say, as if it meant anything. As if that bloody name made them any special. Just because Vincent thought their ancestors were some nobles back in ancient times—and Ciel highly doubted that—it meant that he could lecture his son incessantly on how he should behave, using their name as a whip. His mum, a history teacher, agreed with Ciel; inferences have to be made when you are dealing with records that are hundreds of years old. She also agreed that Vincent was being too harsh on Ciel, pushing him too much… but never really went out of her way to actually defend him.
They hadn't been… It hadn't always been like this. Well, it had been complicated, but ever since dad had quit his last job a year ago and since mum had given up on her research right after… Since they had moved again… Vincent had became absolutely erratic, Rachel paranoid and Ciel teetering on the verge of madness—swallowing pill after pill.
Why, why are we moving again? Why are you so angry, what are you so afraid of? What is it that you’re not telling me?
It had been raining too on that day, when they were moving. His mum had been biting her nails and his dad complaining about expensive London’s housing, about Ciel falling behind in his education due to constant school transferring, just as he had been when driving him to school on that day and why was he always bitching—
“It’s all your fault,” he heard his mum say from the passenger seat.
What? She hadn't been in the car in the morning, had she? No. She had been there in the evening, when they had taken him on that fateful drive. She had been there when…
Suddenly, a sharp pain surged through Ciel’s head.
Its intensity was blinding, it shook his brain as if he had a concussion. Groaning he held onto his forehead. It was gone as fast as it appeared. When he looked at his hand there was a bloodstain.
Then he looked at his parents sitting in the front and screamed. Instead of them there was a heap of bloodied, broken pieces.
A sprawl of crooked limbs. Diassembled and mangled. It almost looked like his mum and dad were sewn into one.
“That’s right. Just when we settled, we had to leave again,” his dad said. His jaw was dislodged and his eyes hollow, staring vacantly at him. “We had to abandon everything and everyone because of you. All those years looking over our shoulder, always sleeping with one eye open because of you. We got into that car because of you too. And who knows, perhaps you even caused your mother’s tumor.”
“No, no, no, that’s not true! I didn’t do that!” he wailed, hot tears drenching his cheeks. “I didn’t know, you never told me! It’s not my fault that he— “
“But you feel guilty, don’t you? Deep down you always wanted to get rid of us, am I right?” his mum wheezed. Her arm hanging limp, disjointed out of its socket. “Tell me, how many desserts, how many cups of tea will it take for him to make you forget all about us, Ciel?”
His own name on his mother’s lips, uttered with so much contempt and hatred felt like a hot stab into his chest. No, no, this is not true. You were not perfect, but neither was I. And I loved you. I still do. I would never forget.
His dad’s bloodied hand reached him in the backseat. Ciel flinched as if electrified when it touched his shoulder and when he tried to shake it off it squeezed him and started shaking him.
“My Lord,” his dad said.
Or did he? No, that could not be his dad. He would never call him that.
“My Lord,” he heard again, this time louder and more urgent. “My Lord, please wake-up. You are having a nightmare.”
He jolted. His hand closed around the wrist on his shoulder like a manacle. His head was spinning, his heart was racing and his vision was blurred.
Sebastian was hovering over him like a vulture. He stared at their conjoined hands. Confusion and concern written all over those pristine features.
As if in a kneejerk reaction, Ciel swatted his hand away. “I’m fine,” he said tautly as he sat up on his bed. The butler took a step back, the worried expression never leaving his face. Ciel focused on his breathing—in and out; five seconds inhale, five seconds exhale—until it became less ragged and more even, although chills ran down his spine when he reflected on the content of his dream. He looked up.
“What’s the today’s tea?” he said, both wanting to occupy his mind and to thwart any Sebastian’s attempts to get him to talk about his nightmare.
“Today, I have brew you a pot of chamonille, Master,” he said, the tension slowly dissipating from his features. “I suspected you were becoming a little fed up with passionflower, hm?” His lips twitched upwards.
He was right. How did he know? It was unnerving.
With a whispered ‘thank you’ Ciel accepted the offered tea and glanced towards the window.
Rainy.
The irony was so absurd he would’ve bursted out laughing if he didn’t notice it was still a bit dim outside. What time it was? He looked at the big, lacquered clock and—
“It’s only seven!” he exclaimed.
Black brows furrowed. “Indeed, sir.” Sebastian pulled out his silver pocket watch, snapping it open with a small click, despite the fact that the clock was right behind him. The perfomative clown. “Your lessons shall begin in fifty-five minutes, so I believe it is best to serve the breakfast shortly to avoid any—”
“Wait a minute. Lessons? What lessons?”
“Your education. I informed you on your first day here that your lessons will start on this Monday, or have you forgotten?”
Much to his embarassment, he really had forgotten.
“Yes— I mean no, of course I remember,” Ciel cleared his throat. “So, you arranged for a tutor?”
Surely, Sebastian would've not invited someone from the outside into the manor, would he? Because if he would've, then they would definitely notice something was wrong, right? Heavens knew, Ciel would try his damnedest to appear like a frightened, tortured child, locked up against his will by a crazy man. It wouldn’t even be far from the truth…
Sebastian tilted his head and when he spoke his tone was light and care-free, but Ciel could sense the cold bite underneath. “There is no need for that, my Lord, for I believe myself more than capable of fulfilling the role of your personal tutor.”
Oh…
Ciel groaned and flopped back onto the mattress. He almost spilled his tea in the process if Sebastian wasn’t there to briskly snatch it from his hands, tutting disapprovingly.
Staring at the ceiling, he said, “What are you going to teach me? How to turn lead into gold? Or that eating mercury like vitamins is good for your health?”
At that Sebastian let out an uncharacteristic burst of laughter. A sound so strange (and creepy) of the normally stoic butler that Ciel tore his eyes from the ceiling and rose up on his elbows.
“Master, the last time your kind took this alchemical pursuit any more seriously than bed-time stories were Middle Ages and Renaissance—”
“I know, I was joking, you dunce—”
“… The use of toxic substances in everyday life was a prevalent issue, about that you are right,” Sebastian said, his tone suddenly pedagogical and authorative, and Ciel already dreaded any lessons that he would be forced to endure. “However, I’m very well aware of the effects on a human body when it’s exposed to such substances, Master. Which is why you won’t find a single fiber of asbestos in these walls and why not even one inch of your clothing contains arsenic-based dyes, however beautiful Paris Green they create.” He smiled, the smug git. “I believe my progress of learning about currents affairs that I have made within just a few days is sufficient. Do you consider me worthy enough to teach you now, my Lord?”
“Hmpf. If your knowledge of current affairs was as tremendous as you put it, then you would know better than to wake me up so early on Monday, wouldn’t you?” He cocked his eyebrow.
Let’s see, how much have you actually learned, you pompous bastard…
Sebastian frowned; all the smugness dropped like an act. “Pardon?”
“You see, the school week has only four days, not five. And it starts on Tuesday, not Monday.”
“No, it does not.” He shook his head. “To my knowledge—”
“Your knowledge,” Ciel drawled, “is outdated. You said that we humans change very fast, right? Turns out we change very fast not only in terms of technology, but whole societal structures as well.”
God, how he wished that was true. It was 21st century and all they had was a deeply flawed economic system based on exploitation, cyber warfare, monarchy and climate change.
“Including the school system,” Ciel continued “This stale, obsolete method of educating that you so love is designed to raise factory workers; simpletons who won’t dare to question their authority, let alone to produce a thought of their own. Not in this age of progress and inclusivity.” Ciel was cringing internally as he said those words. “It is said that more free-time is very beneficial for development of young curious individuals who will one day be the backbone of society.”
That’s it, now, Sebastian would either buy it or call him out of his bullshit.
The butler just stood there, looking utterly dumbfounded as he contemplated him. Ciel stared right back, chin upward and trying his best not to avert his eyes, which was not an easy task under such an intense scrutiny, but he was very determined. The truth was he wasn’t even that particular about having prolonged weekends. It was just this urge to win; to show Sebastian that he isn’t as smart as he thinks he is and that eventually Ciel would outsmart him completely.
Sebastian scanned his face, franctically searching for any sign of weakness—a twitch of a muscle, shift in his eyes, any evidence of his lie—for what seemed to be like forever. Just when Ciel’s anxiety was beginning to spike up, Sebastian finally spoke, “Very well, Master. I apologize for my misstep.”
Had he bought it?
“Your lessons will start tomorrow eight o’clock. You may continue sleeping if you wish.”
… No, he hadn't. Ciel could see it in the way he narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips.
He didn't believe him, but couldn’t do a damn thing, because he lacked the knowledge to back up his arguments. Ciel was sure that Sebastian was going to cram his head with everything there was to know about the present-day as soon as he left the room. Ciel’s small victory was going to be short-lived.
But still, the winner of this round was Ciel. He won.
Surpresing a smirk Ciel asked, “Why are you insisting on this so much? It’s not like you’re letting me out any time soon, if ever. So, what do I need education for?”
It made sense that Sebastian wanted to keep his guinea pig well-fed, but erudite too?
“With your natural curiosity I’m sure boredom would overcome you very soon, if we didn’t do anything to occupy that good brain of yours, Master.” Ciel felt his cheeks heating up. Damn! “After all, knowledge is the food of the soul.”
“I don’t believe I have a soul,” Ciel said, needing to have the last word. “The very concept of souls is laughable.”
Sebastian smiled. His signature, enigmatic smile that alerted Ciel to put up all his defences like a wary animal sensing danger in its surroundings.
“Oh, but you do have a soul, my Lord,” me muttered, taking a step towards him and then another until he stood very close. Too close. “I can see it clear as a day. Shining so bright it remains in my eyes.” With that he bowed, turned around on his heel and left the room.
Ciel stared at the closed door for how long he had no idea, his heart beating in a turbulent staccato.
When he looked down at his hands, he found they were shaking.
***
The rest of his day off passed in a haze, much to his disdain. After an hour of tossing and turning in his bed, he had given up any hope of getting some more sleep, so he had gotten dressed and called for Sebastian.
He had served him breakfast in the usual grandiose manner. A delicious looking cinnamon French toast, which hadn't enticed him at all, much to Sebastian’s disdain. It wasn't been some sudden decline in the butler’s cooking—if that had been the case, Ciel would've actually felt a lot better—rather he had been feeling strange. Nauseous.
Mostly, he blamed this on Sebastian’s talk about his alleged soul. Firstly, he felt stupid for outright rejecting the idea of souls when he had seen with his own eyes that there indeed were forces beyond the laws of nature. When the very proof walked these halls and served him tea every morning. Secondly, what did Sebastian mean by seeing it shine? And what was that glint in his eyes?
Still, this strange feeling of fatigue was nothing new these days. If anything, it had been gradually getting worse.
First, it was muscle aches and vertigo—although he thought that walking all these long halls and stairs was making a number on his weak physique and low blood-pressure.
Second, the mood swings—when he had trouble dressing himself in those robes or when Sebastian materialized in front of him without warning.
Third, the brain zaps—brief, shock-like sensations in his head. They resembled a burst of fireworks, leaving him disoriented and confused.
He couldn’t find any cause of this condition other than the prolonged stress. Of course, Sebastian had noticed and became even fussier than before. He barely left Ciel alone for more than a few minutes at a time, touching his forehead in a fruitless search for fever.
What if he was behind this? Had Sebastian put some curse on Ciel, so he would become more dependent on his assistance? At this point, Ciel wouldn’t put anything past him…
His suspicion only amplified when Sebastian woke him on Tuesday seven o’clock and he was feeling significantly better. Not perfect, but better.
What have you done? he didn’t ask. Only drank his tea, ate his breakfast and walked to the study where the lessons were to take place.
Sebastian was already waiting for him behind the desk. Ciel could only stare. Not because he saw Sebastian sitting for the very first time (the sight shocked him as well though), it was his clothes. The butler attire was replaced by a greyish-brown coat with auburn vest and red jabot around his neck. Spectacles perching on the edge of his nose.
Imposing, austere and authorative. He looked like a completely different man. The only thing breaking his façade was the ever-present spark of humour in his eyes. For a few, bizzare seconds Ciel thought he looked quite nice, but waved the thought away like a pesky fly.
Sebastian stood up. “Welcome to your first lesson, Master. Please do sit down.”
Ciel did as he said.
“So, what is the first subject?” he asked, staring at the very old-fashioned chalkboard.
“Well, what would you like to learn today?”
That was unexpected. “Um, I’m not sure. I didn’t expect you would give me a choice.”
“But of course, Master. I believe it is perfectly in accordance with modern teaching methods.” He smiled.
“I see you’ve done your homework,” Ciel said carefully.
“Indeed, my Lord. I have learned a lot of interesting things.”
Oh, so he knew…
Ciel opened his mouth to reply, but any words died on the tip of his tongue when something on the desk caught his attention. A cane.
“What is this?” he asked, utterly appalled.
“That is a cane, Master.”
“I know what it is. Why is it here?”
“It is here because I have brought it here, Master.”
Ciel gritted his teeth. “You’re very insolent for a servant, you know that? I’m asking for what reason have you brought it here? What could you possibly need that for?”
He had a suspicion, but desperately wanted to give the butler a benefit of a doubt.
Sebastian only blinked. “Right now, I’m more of a tutor than your servant, my Lord. And as your personal tutor it is my duty to ensure you take away as much as possible from my lessons, hence the cane.”
Ciel crossed his arms. “I’m not going to engage in your lessons, if you’re going to beat me.”
Sebastian’s mouth flung open in horror. “Beat you, my Lord? One or two strokes on your palms, so your attention doesn’t waver is hardly—”
“Holy shit!” Ciel interrupted. “Are you out of your mind? How am I supposed to learn anything if there is a constant threat of physical pain looming above my head? First the threats of forced feeding and now this? Are you sure you came from the nineteenth century? Because I think the Stone Age is far more likely!”
Somewhere in the sane part of his brain was a flashing red light. Cautioning him not to yell like this or Sebastian will get angry and… since when did Ciel yell? This wasn’t like him and the dizziness was back. His head throbbed, his legs were shaking and they hadn’t even started!
“My Lord,” he spoke very softly, “I understand your reservations, but it was never my intention to hurt you or cause you unnecessary pain. I have merely observed that operant conditioning, which involves positive and negative reinforcement has been proven as a highly efficient method to—”
“To train dogs! Not people! You are not using this on me, do you understand? Now take this thing away or it will be your behind that gets a few strokes!”
As soon as those words went past Ciel’s lips, he felt his cheeks turn crimson.
Bollocks…
He shouldn’t have said that…
Sebastian just stared, once again rendered speechless and this time Ciel felt no pride from that. Quite the opposite. His nausea was reaching new levels and he thought he was going to vomit right on that wooden desk.
Sebastian cleared his throat. “Very well, my Lord, I will take it away immediately. I apologize for causing you distress. Please do excuse me.”
He left him alone in the room. Once again, Ciel was staring at the closed door, listening to the rain outside and questioning his own sanity.
Or a lack thereof.
***
When Sebastian returned, he inquired again on the subject that Ciel would like to learn about. Ciel said he didn’t know and told Sebastian to just pick something for him.
He picked Latin. A dead language of which Ciel knew nothing beyond just some basic facts and saw no practical use of mastering. He told him that much.
“But Master, Latin is the most fascinating language of your kind. It provides more than a deep dive into human history, literature, and word origins. By mastering it, you acquire a deep understanding of the Western culture.”
Ciel murmured ‘pretentious’, but chose not to argue any further.
Sebastian thought it best to draw him an introductory overview, before they would delve into details. Despite his prior skepticism Ciel found himself intrigued. Almost against his will.
Sebastian’s delivery was actually engaging—using body language and speaking in a perfect cadence—unlike the monotony Ciel had encountered over the years of school attendance.
However difficult it was to admit it, Sebastian wasn’t a terrible teacher. Far from it, in fact.
He never dismissed any of his questions and always answered them in a way that was easy to understand, but never condescending. He didn’t mind Ciel’s doodling, as long as it helped him focus and they took frequent breaks – he even prepared him tea and brought snacks—and always continued when Ciel felt refreshed enough.
It was nothing like his public-school experience. The only thing he knew was mechanical process of endless memorization; a strict accordance with curriculum dictated by bureaucracy and standardized metrics. A soulless approach that left little room for individuality, delivered by burned-out, underpaid teachers who struggled to maintain control over unmotivated children.
Sebastian’s lessons came to an end unexpectly soon and Ciel voiced his surprise.
“Surely you didn’t think I would make you sit behind this desk until it’s time for lunch? After all, more free time is beneficial for young minds.” He pushed his spectacles up.
“Well, that’s a relief. You really dedicated yourself to go with the times,” he said, ignoring the undisguised insinuation. If Sebastian had any problem, he would have to be straightforward. Besides, it truly was a relief, because Ciel had been feeling especially lightheaded for the last hour.
“That I have. Now that you mention it, I have made a thorough research on modern schooling and found that four-day school week is not part of it, Master,” he said evenly.
“Of course, it’s not. It took you longer to find out than I thought.”
The man exhaled sharply through his teeth. “I found out shortly after our little quarrel. I only chose not to mention it right away, because I could not think of a reason why would you lie to me about this, when you knew I would find out. Is the idea of making a fool out of me so enticing?”
“No, it’s not I—” Ciel stammered, suddenly feeling guilty. “Fine, a little. But honestly it serves you right for what you’ve done!”
“I see you are still upset.” Sebastian bowed his head. “Please let me remind you, that it was your father who promised you to me and that I have simply collected my reward which had been denied to me for years.”
“But you'd cured my mother and then didn’t give him any other choice. Was he stupid for ever coming to you? Yes, the hell he was. But he offered his life, his soul and you rejected. What was he supposed to do?”
“In deals like these nothing is for free and he should have agreed to give his soul when I was still interested or simply not entered the contract at all. It is not my fault that humans are so endlessly foolish to think they can have their cake and eat it too.” Sebastian’s gaze suddenly softened. Ciel shuddered. “My Lord, I have been nothing but kind to you. I have made a few mistakes, yes, but I’m more than happy to learn how to be your perfect servant. It is not rare for my kind to demand first-borns and I can assure you that not every one them is as lucky as you.”
“And that's supposed to be a consolation? Just because it could've been worse I'm supposed to sit down and accept it?!” he snarled, no longer bothering to keep himself from yelling. “You know what? Your kind has no right to demand first-borns, because children are not their parents’ property. Do you–” He stood up and staggered, inexplicable chills ran down his spine. Sebastian’s features marred concern, but Ciel didn’t give a damn. “Do you think you can serve me tea, offer some desserts…” His head was spinning and his limbs felt strangely disconnected. “And I’ll forget all about them?”
“My Lord, are you all right?” Sebastian raised his hand—the mangled, bloodstained hand—to touch his shoulder and he flinched.
“Don’t touch me!” Ciel yelled. The world around him began to warp and distort, colours bleeding into one another and the more he tried to blink it away the worse it got. “What have you done to me?”
The wave of electricity surged through his brain and he held onto his forehead—just like in that dream, just like on that rainy day.
The world went black for a few seconds. The next thing Ciel knew that he had emptied his bowels and that Sebastian was holding him in his arms.
And then it finally clicked.
Sebastian hadn’t put any curse on him.
Ciel hadn’t taken his medication for more than a week.