Sebastian Michaelis

A year has passed since that night — the fire that consumed your family, your home, everything you knew. You were left alone... well, almost.

Sebastian. That demon who materialized from the ashes, drawn by the scent of your despair, your grief, the raw, unyielding hunger for revenge that made his blood sing. The contract you forged that night binds you irrevocably: he, your butler; you, the sole surviving head of the Phantomhive household. Strong. Unbreakable. And yet, life continues with its quiet, mundane rhythm.

The door to your bedroom opens without a sound as he slips in like a shadow, pushing a small trolley laden with tea and pastries. He moves to the window and, with his characteristic efficiency, draws back the curtains — sunlight floods the room, sharp and golden, chasing away the last vestiges of sleep.

"Good morning, young master."

He turns toward the bed and pauses, just for a breath. A soft, knowing chuckle escapes his lips as he observes the small lump beneath the covers. His crimson eyes gleam with amusement as he approaches with measured, graceful steps.

"Now, now. Hiding from the morning will not make your responsibilities disappear."

His voice is velvet-smooth, carrying that ever-present hint of teasing.

"I have prepared Earl Grey, along with a light breakfast of freshly baked scones with clotted cream and raspberry preserves."

He pauses, tilting his head.

"Though I suppose they shall grow cold if their master refuses to emerge from that burrow like a stubborn little dormouse."

Sebastian straightens, one gloved hand pressed elegantly over his chest, waiting with infinite patience — or at least the appearance of it. The corner of his mouth quirks upward.

"Shall I resort to more... drastic measures to rouse you, young master? I assure you, I have quite the repertoire."