The Golden Butler

by CF15546

Summary:

The Phantomhive estate—an enclave of grace, decorum, and well-manicured façades. Behind its polished halls and courteous smiles lies the machinery of a darker purpose, for its young master serves none other than Her Majesty the Queen, as her watchdog in the shadows.

Yet, one particular assignment has stirred something… peculiar. A girl, misplaced in time and trembling with a story far older—and perhaps far more tragic—than even the records of this era allow. She is not of this world, nor of its customs. And unraveling the enigma of her existence will require far more than diplomacy or deduction.

It will demand patience. Precision. And, naturally, a touch of theatrical flair.

But of course…
When serving the Earl of Phantomhive, nothing less is expected of me.
After all, I am simply one hell of a butler.

Chapter 1: A Burst of Light

The gray skies of London cast their usual gloom over the Phantomhive manor, rain drizzling softly against the windows of Ciel Phantomhive’s study. The young Earl sat at his desk, his one visible eye scanning the contents of an ornate envelope bearing the Queen’s seal.

Sebastian stood nearby, hands clasped behind his back, ever the picture of composure. His sharp eyes flicked briefly to Ciel’s face as the boy’s brow furrowed slightly.

“A peculiar request this time,” Ciel murmured, folding the letter and placing it neatly on his desk.

Sebastian tilted his head with an elegant smile. “Her Majesty rarely asks for anything straightforward, young master. What does she require of you now?”

Ciel leaned back in his chair, his gaze distant but calculating. “Reports of a strange phenomenon near the outskirts of London. A burst of yellow light, witnessed by a handful of peasants. Normally, such trifles wouldn’t warrant her attention, but…” He trailed off, a small frown forming.

“But?” Sebastian prompted, arching a brow.

“She claims that a girl was found at the epicenter. Unconscious, dressed in strange garments. Witnesses described her as… Australian.”

Sebastian’s smile widened slightly, a glimmer of curiosity lighting his crimson eyes. “How intriguing. It seems the Queen has quite the mystery on her hands.”

“Indeed.” Ciel stood, the heels of his shoes clicking softly against the wooden floor. “The Queen has specifically requested that I investigate. The girl is being kept in a nearby village for now, though she’s yet to regain consciousness. I expect she’ll have answers when she wakes.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

Ciel smirked, the glint of a strategist in his eye. “Then we’ll find them ourselves. Either way, Sebastian, prepare the carriage. We’re leaving immediately.”

Sebastian bowed gracefully. “As you wish, my lord.”

The Phantomhive carriage rolled to a stop in the muddy streets of a small village, the air thick with the smell of damp earth and smoke from nearby chimneys. Villagers cast wary glances as Ciel stepped out, flanked by Sebastian, who held an umbrella to shield him from the rain.

“Where is she being kept?” Ciel asked curtly, his voice cutting through the murmur of the crowd.

A nervous constable approached, his hat clutched tightly in his hands. “Th-this way, my lord,” he stammered, leading them toward a modest inn on the edge of the village.

Inside, the air was warm but tense. The innkeeper gestured silently to a room upstairs. Ciel nodded, ascending the creaking staircase with Sebastian close behind.

When they entered the room, Ciel stopped in his tracks.

The girl lay on the bed, her clothing unlike anything he’d ever seen. A ball gown, sleek and elegant, shimmering with an iridescent sheen that seemed to shift in the candlelight. The design was utterly foreign, with clean lines and modern touches that would have baffled even the most avant-garde designers of his era.

Her face was peaceful, framed by her chocolate brown hair, but something about her presence felt… off.

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed as he stepped closer. “How peculiar,” he murmured, tilting his head. “Such a gown, yet no sign of a carriage or escort to speak of. It’s as though she appeared out of thin air.”

“Sebastian.” Ciel’s voice was sharp, his gaze fixed on the girl. “What do you make of her?”

The butler’s smile grew faintly predatory. “Something unnatural, to be sure. But perhaps not entirely uninteresting.”

Ciel’s eye narrowed as he considered the mystery before him. Whatever—or whoever—this girl was, she had captured the Queen’s attention. And if the Queen was watching, so was he.

“Sebastian,” he said finally, his tone cold and commanding. “Wake her.”

Sebastian leaned over the girl, his gloved hand brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. With a faint smile, he glanced back at Ciel.

“Shall I be gentle, or would you prefer something more… startling, my lord?”

Ciel rolled his eyes. “Just wake her, Sebastian. We don’t have all day.”

Sebastian’s smile widened as he leaned closer to the girl. With a flick of his wrist, he removed one glove and lightly tapped her cheek. “Rise and shine, miss. The hour calls for introductions.”

The girl stirred, her face scrunching slightly as she let out a groan. “Blimey, what’s the racket, mate?” Her voice, sharp and distinctly Australian, echoed in the quiet room. “Feels like I got hit by a bloody kangaroo on a bender…”

Ciel arched a brow, his gaze snapping to Sebastian. The butler merely shrugged, clearly amused.

The girl slowly opened her eyes, blinking against the dim light of the room. Her gaze darted between Ciel and Sebastian before settling on her surroundings. “Strewth,” she muttered, sitting up and wincing. “Where the hell am I? Feels like I’ve walked into some fancy-dress party from a couple of centuries ago.”

Sebastian’s grin deepened. “How astute of you. You are, in fact, in the care of the Phantomhive household. May I ask your name, Miss…?”

The girl stared at him for a moment, then threw up her hands. “Crikey, you’re not mucking about, are ya? Alright, name’s Tessa James Elliot, but just call me Tessa. Everyone else does.” She squinted at Sebastian. “And what’s with the penguin suit, mate? You blokes auditioning for a stage play or something?”

Ciel’s lips twitched in irritation, though he fought to keep his composure. “I am Ciel Phantomhive, the Earl of the estate,” he said coolly, crossing his arms. “And this is my butler, Sebastian Michaelis. You will address us with the respect we are due.”

Tessa raised a brow, clearly unimpressed. “Well, aren’t you a little ankle-biter? What are you, twelve?”

Sebastian coughed, barely concealing his laughter, while Ciel bristled. “I am thirteen, and I am your host. You would do well to remember that.”

Tessa waved him off. “Yeah, yeah, don’t get your knickers in a twist. Look, cheers for not leaving me out in the rain or whatever, but seriously, where am I? Last thing I remember, I was at a gala, and now I’m here with you lot. Did I pass out or something?”

Ciel exchanged a glance with Sebastian, his curiosity growing. “A gala? You’ll have to be more specific. Where exactly was this gala held?”

Tessa frowned, her expression briefly clouded. “Uh… Sydney, I think. Wait…” Her eyes darted to the window, taking in the rain-soaked village outside. “Oi, this doesn’t look like Sydney. What’s going on here? Did I hit my head or something?”

Sebastian’s gaze sharpened, his smile fading slightly. “Sydney, you say? Quite a distance from here, wouldn’t you agree, young master?”

“Indeed,” Ciel murmured, his mind racing. “Tessa James Elliot, was it? You’re a long way from home."

“No kidding,” Tessa muttered, rubbing her temples. “And what’s with the vibe here? This place screams Victorian England. Don’t tell me I fell into some dodgy time warp.”

Sebastian chuckled softly. “A fascinating theory, Miss Elliot. Perhaps the answers lie with you.”

Tessa groaned, slumping back against the pillows. “Great. First, I get roped into some fancy party, and now I’m stuck in some Sherlock Holmes fanfic. Just my bloody luck.”

Ciel’s lips quirked into a smirk despite himself. “If you’re quite done complaining, perhaps we can get to the bottom of this mystery. You clearly don’t belong here, but for now, you are under my protection. Consider it a courtesy.”

Tessa gave him a half-smile. “Cheers, Earl. Guess I’ll stick with you lot for now. But fair warning—if I get dragged into anything weird, I’m outta here.”

“Oh, I assure you,” Sebastian said, his crimson eyes glinting, “we are nothing but the picture of propriety.”

Tessa snorted. “Yeah, right. With you looking like Dracula’s long-lost cousin? Pull the other one.”

Ciel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is going to be a long day.”

The rain had subsided to a drizzle by the time Ciel and Sebastian began preparations to leave the village. Tessa stood in the cramped inn room, her modern ball gown a glaring contrast to the worn wooden walls and rustic furnishings.

“I’m not getting in that carriage,” Tessa said flatly, her arms crossed.

Ciel raised an eyebrow, exasperated. “And why not?”

Tessa jabbed a thumb toward the window, where the Phantomhive carriage sat in the muddy street. “That thing looks like it came out of Pride and Prejudice . You telling me it’s safe? Because it doesn’t look like it.”

Sebastian chuckled softly, earning a sharp glare from Ciel. “I assure you, Miss Elliot, our carriage is perfectly safe. And far more comfortable than staying here in this… establishment.”

Tessa rolled her eyes. “Right, because traveling with the little lord and his spooky butler is such a great plan.” She paused, glancing down at her gown. “Although, if you’ve got something more practical than this bloody thing, I might reconsider.”

Ciel sighed, his patience wearing thin. “You’ll have to wait until we return to the manor for that. Now, unless you’d prefer to remain here and attract unwanted attention with your ridiculous clothing, I suggest you cooperate.”

Tessa threw up her hands. “Alright, alright. Don’t blow a gasket, mate. I’ll come along. But if that carriage breaks down, I’m not pushing it.”

Sebastian’s smile widened. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

The carriage ride was quiet at first, save for the steady clatter of wheels over cobblestones. Tessa sat across from Ciel, her arms crossed as she stared out the window at the passing countryside.

“So,” she said eventually, breaking the silence. “What year is it, anyway?”

Ciel frowned slightly, unsure whether her question was genuine. “1889,” he said.

Tessa blinked, turning to face him. “You’re joking.”

“Do I look like someone who jokes?” Ciel shot back, his tone sharp.

Tessa studied him for a moment before letting out a low whistle. “Strewth, I really am stuck in a time warp. 1889. Crikey. Guess that explains the getups.”

“Your disbelief is noted,” Ciel said dryly. “But if you’re going to stay under my roof, you’ll need to adapt. That includes appropriate clothing, behavior, and speech.”

Tessa snorted. “Yeah, good luck with that, mate. I’m not exactly the ‘sit up straight and sip tea’ type.”

Sebastian’s eyes glinted with amusement as he chimed in. “Not to worry, Miss Elliot. I’m sure we can teach you. With time.”

“Sure,” Tessa muttered, slouching back against the seat. “This just keeps getting better and better.”

The grand silhouette of the Phantomhive estate loomed against the gray sky as the carriage pulled into the courtyard. Tessa leaned out the window, her mouth falling open slightly.

“Bloody hell,” she muttered. “That’s one hell of a house. You live here?”

Ciel stepped out of the carriage with practiced grace, ignoring her comment. “Sebastian, inform the staff to prepare a guest room.”

Sebastian bowed. “As you wish, my lord.”

Tessa followed, glancing around the courtyard with wide eyes. “Alright, I’ll admit it—this place is impressive. Bit creepy, though. Like the kind of joint you’d see in a horror movie.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Ciel said, leading her toward the entrance.

Once inside, the staff gathered to greet them. Mey-Rin’s eyes widened when she spotted Tessa’s gown. “Oh, my! What a fancy dress, miss! But… it looks so strange.”

Baldroy leaned on his broom, squinting. “Where’d you pick her up, boss? She looks like she’s been to the future and back.”

“She may as well have,” Ciel muttered under his breath.

Sebastian stepped forward, his smooth voice cutting through the chatter. “Miss Elliot will be staying with us for the foreseeable future. Please ensure she is made comfortable and properly attired.”

“Attired?” Tessa echoed, frowning. “What, this isn’t good enough for you lot?”

Finnian, wide-eyed, tugged at his cap. “It’s not that, miss, but… well, you stand out. A lot.”

Tessa sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Alright, point taken. But no corsets, yeah? I’m not about to get squeezed into some medieval torture device.”

Mey-Rin giggled nervously. “We’ll see what we can do, miss.”

Ciel pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sebastian, take her to her room. I’ve had enough of this for one day.”

Sebastian inclined his head. “Of course, young master.” Turning to Tessa, he gestured elegantly toward the staircase. “This way, Miss Elliot. I’ll see to it that you’re made presentable.”

“Presentable, huh?” Tessa muttered, following him up the stairs. “You know, for a butler, you’re awfully bossy.”

Sebastian’s smile was razor-sharp. “I strive to excel in all areas, Miss Elliot.”

Sebastian opened the door to the guest room with a theatrical flourish. “Here we are, Miss Elliot. This will be your room during your stay at the manor.”

Tessa stepped inside, her eyes sweeping over the space. The room was grand, with ornate furnishings, a plush bed, and a small vanity. The rich crimson curtains and polished mahogany accents gave the room a regal, almost suffocating air.

“Fancy digs,” Tessa muttered, tossing her bag—what little she had—onto the bed. “Almost too fancy. You sure you’re not overcompensating, mate?”

Sebastian chuckled, unfazed. “The Phantomhive manor prides itself on hospitality. And now, if you’ll permit me…” He moved to a wardrobe and pulled out a neatly folded bundle of clothes. “You’ll need to change into something more… era-appropriate if you wish to avoid suspicion.”

Tessa wrinkled her nose as she took the clothes from him. A modest dress of navy blue with white lace accents, paired with a set of sturdy but sensible boots. “Not bad,” she admitted begrudgingly. “Could be worse. Still not thrilled about the corset, though.”

Sebastian smirked. “You’ll find I’ve spared you that particular ordeal. For now.”

“Cheers for that,” she said, eyeing him suspiciously as he moved to leave.

But just as Sebastian reached the door, Tessa’s voice cut through the room, her tone sharp and loaded with something far more calculated than her earlier banter.

“You’re not human, are you?”

Sebastian paused, his hand resting lightly on the doorknob. Slowly, he turned back to face her, his crimson eyes glinting faintly in the dim light. “Whatever gave you that impression, Miss Elliot?”

Tessa tilted her head, her expression unreadable. “A bloke like you—too polished, too perfect, too… unnatural. People like you? I’ve dealt with something similar before. A small, yellow menace with an ego bigger than yours. Thought it was invincible too.”

Sebastian’s smile thinned, his interest piqued. “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” Tessa said, crossing her arms. “Thing called itself The Solver of the Absolute Fabric. Had the whole ‘I’m better than you’ attitude. Sound familiar?”

Sebastian chuckled softly, his voice dripping with amusement. “You’re quite perceptive, Miss Elliot. But I must ask, if you truly believe I’m not human, why would you follow me here so willingly?”

Tessa shrugged. “Didn’t have much choice, did I? Besides, I figured if you wanted me dead, you’d have done it already. That what you are, though? Some demon? Solver didn’t have a human form, but you…” She gestured vaguely at him. “You’re trying too hard to look normal.”

Sebastian stepped closer, his gaze steady but playful. “You have a sharp tongue, Miss Elliot. And a sharper mind than most. I wonder…” He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Do you know what I am, or are you simply guessing?”

Tessa met his gaze without flinching. “Don’t know what you are exactly, but I can tell you’re trouble. The Solver back home? It left a mess. And if you’re anything like it, I’ll be keeping both eyes on you.”

Sebastian straightened, a slow, almost predatory smile spreading across his face. “How delightful. You are far more interesting than I anticipated.”

“Glad to entertain,” Tessa said dryly.

With that, Sebastian inclined his head. “I’ll leave you to change, Miss Elliot. Dinner will be served shortly. Do try to look presentable.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tessa muttered as he left, shutting the door behind him.

Alone in the room, Tessa sat on the edge of the bed, holding the dress in her hands. Her mind whirred with a mixture of irritation and unease. Whatever Sebastian was, she wasn’t about to let her guard down.

“Just my luck,” she muttered to herself. “Traded one monster for another.”

Tessa tugged at the hem of the navy-blue dress as she stepped out of her room, adjusting to the restrictive feel of the Victorian-era attire. It wasn’t unbearable, but it was far from her preferred style. She rolled her shoulders, trying to shake the sensation of being constrained.

The hallways of the Phantomhive manor stretched endlessly in either direction, their polished wood floors and elaborate wallpaper giving the place a cold, imposing feel. It didn’t take long for Tessa to realize she was utterly lost.

“Bloody mansion’s a maze,” she muttered under her breath as she wandered aimlessly. Her boots echoed faintly in the vast halls until she finally stumbled upon a heavy oak door, slightly ajar. Peering inside, she spotted a familiar figure seated at a grand desk.

Ciel Phantomhive.

He looked up as she entered, his sharp blue eyes narrowing slightly. “Miss Elliot. Is there a reason you’ve decided to invade my study unannounced?”

Tessa smirked faintly, stepping inside. “Didn’t realize I needed a formal invitation. Thought I’d stretch my legs, maybe get to know the mysterious young lord I’ve been roped into staying with.”

Ciel raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “And? Have you learned anything?”

“Yeah,” Tessa replied, plopping into one of the armchairs across from his desk. “You’re as prickly as a cactus.”

Ciel ignored the jab, leaning back in his chair with an air of detachment. “Where’s Sebastian?” Tessa asked, her tone suddenly more serious.

Ciel waved the question away as if it were irrelevant. “He has… matters to attend to. You’ll learn that Sebastian is never far when he’s needed.”

Tessa studied him for a moment, sensing his deflection but deciding not to press the issue. Instead, Ciel turned the conversation toward her, his piercing gaze locked onto her.

“You carry yourself with a certain… refinement,” he observed. “Your posture, your speech—aside from the slang—suggest a privileged upbringing. Am I wrong?”

Tessa stiffened slightly, her casual demeanor faltering for a fraction of a second. “Guess you could say that,” she replied, trying to sound nonchalant. “Not much to tell, though. Just your average family.”

Ciel tilted his head, unconvinced. “Average, you say? And yet, here you are, dressed as if you were attending a ball in a far more modern era. Something tells me there’s more to your story.”

“Maybe,” Tessa said, her tone light but guarded. “But you’re not getting it out of me, Sherlock.”

Ciel’s gaze drifted downward, and his expression darkened slightly. “Your wrist.”

Tessa instinctively pulled her left hand into her lap, but it was too late. The faint bruising around her wrist had caught Ciel’s attention.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice quiet but laced with an edge of curiosity.

“Nothing,” Tessa said quickly, her tone clipped.

Ciel’s eyes narrowed. “Bruises like that don’t appear out of nowhere.”

Tessa clenched her jaw, refusing to meet his gaze. “Like I said, it’s nothing. Drop it.”

For a moment, the room was silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Finally, Ciel leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk.

“You’re not a very good liar,” he said, his voice low and pointed. “Whatever you’re hiding, it’s written all over you.”

Tessa forced a laugh, though it sounded hollow. “Don’t know what you’re talking about, mate. You’re reading too much into it.”

Ciel leaned back again, studying her with a calculating expression. “Fine. Keep your secrets for now. But don’t think for a moment that I’ve forgotten.”

Tessa exhaled slowly, relieved but uneasy. She stood, brushing her hands against her skirt. “Thanks for the chat, your lordship. Real cozy atmosphere you’ve got here.”

Ciel smirked faintly, watching her as she headed for the door. “You’re not like most people, Miss Elliot. And that makes you dangerous. Just remember that I don’t tolerate threats in my household.”

Tessa glanced back at him, her expression unreadable. “Right back at ya, kid.”

She slipped out of the study, her heart pounding. Ciel had seen more than she wanted to reveal, and it unnerved her. But she wasn’t about to let him—or anyone—pry further into her past.

Chapter 2: A Demon’s Curiosity

Tessa wandered the halls of the Phantomhive estate again, her earlier exchange with Ciel leaving her restless. The sheer size of the place was disorienting, and every room seemed more grandiose than the last. It was a stark contrast to what she was used to—a sharp reminder of just how far from home she was, in more ways than one.

As she turned a corner, a smooth voice broke the silence, sending a chill down her spine.

“Lost again, Miss Elliot?”

Tessa stopped in her tracks, turning to find Sebastian standing casually in the shadows, his crimson eyes gleaming with amusement.

“Seriously, mate,” she said, folding her arms. “You need to work on not being so creepy. Or is that just part of the whole demon shtick?”

Sebastian smiled, stepping into the light. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of being anything less than unsettling. It keeps things… interesting.”

Tessa rolled her eyes, resuming her aimless stroll. “Great. Another bloke who loves the sound of his own voice. Just what I needed.”

Sebastian fell into step beside her, his presence unnervingly calm yet impossible to ignore. “And yet, you seem quite at ease around me. I expected more fear. Wariness, at the very least.”

“Let’s just say you’re not the first creepy thing I’ve dealt with,” Tessa said, keeping her tone light.

“Ah, yes,” Sebastian murmured. “You mentioned a ‘Solver’ earlier. A curious term. But I wonder…” He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a velvety whisper. “What else are you hiding, Miss Elliot?”

Tessa glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “Nothing you need to know about. Why? Feeling left out?”

Sebastian chuckled. “Not at all. But you do intrigue me. For instance…” His gaze flicked to her left hand, which she kept tucked against her side. “You favor your right hand, even though it’s quite clear you’re left-handed. Why is that?”

Tessa stiffened but didn’t stop walking. “What can I say? Ambidextrous talent runs in the family.”

Sebastian’s smile widened. “Does it now? And yet, your left wrist bears the faintest signs of restraint. An injury, perhaps? Or something more deliberate?”

Her steps faltered for a moment before she regained her composure. “You’re pretty observant for a butler. Makes you wonder why you’re wasting all that talent polishing silverware.”

Sebastian’s tone turned teasing. “Deflection. How predictable.”

Tessa stopped abruptly, turning to face him. “Alright, what’s your game, mate? You keep poking and prodding like you’re trying to get a rise out of me. What’s the deal?”

Sebastian’s expression softened, though his playful edge remained. “You interest me, Miss Elliot. Most people are an open book—so easy to read, so predictable. But you? You carry yourself with confidence, yet there’s a shadow in your eyes. The look of someone who’s been… kicked one too many times.”

Tessa’s jaw tightened, her fingers curling into fists. “Maybe you should mind your own bloody business.”

Sebastian tilted his head, unperturbed. “But where would the fun be in that?”

She glared at him, but there was no anger in her voice when she finally spoke. “You’re right, you know. About me. But here’s the thing, Sebastian—I’ve dealt with worse than you. So, whatever game you’re playing, save it. I’m not in the mood.”

Sebastian regarded her for a moment, his smile fading slightly. “I wasn’t playing a game,” he said softly, his tone unusually sincere. “Merely… observing.”

Tessa blinked, caught off guard by his sudden shift in demeanor. But before she could respond, Sebastian’s smile returned, his playful mask slipping back into place.

“Regardless, dinner will be served shortly. You should prepare yourself, Miss Elliot. The young master will expect you to make a proper impression.”

With that, he gave a small bow and disappeared into the shadows, leaving Tessa standing alone in the empty hallway.

She exhaled sharply, rubbing her temples. “Bloody demon,” she muttered. “What the hell have I gotten myself into?”

Ciel sat at his desk, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the study. His fingers traced the edges of the Queen’s letter as he read it for the third time, his sharp blue eyes scanning the elegant script with the same intense focus he gave to his most complicated cases.

The message was concise yet perplexing:

“Lord Phantomhive,

A peculiar phenomenon has occurred on the outskirts of London—a burst of yellow light followed by the appearance of a young woman. She claims no knowledge of our time and speaks in a manner inconsistent with our customs. She is to remain under your observation until further notice. Trust in your talents to handle this delicate matter.

• Victoria”

He set the letter down, his brow furrowing. The Queen’s orders were clear, but her intent was not. Was this woman, Tessa Elliot, simply an anomaly? Or was she a piece on the larger chessboard of Her Majesty’s endless machinations?

Ciel leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. He replayed their brief interactions in his mind. Tessa was… unconventional, to say the least. Her mannerisms, her speech—everything about her clashed with the world around her. Yet, despite her modernity, she carried herself with an undeniable grace.

“She’s no commoner,” Ciel murmured to himself. “Her posture, her tone, even her stubbornness—they’re the marks of someone raised in privilege.”

And yet, there were contradictions. He had seen the bruises on her wrist, the faint shadows under her eyes. She carried scars, both visible and unseen. Whatever her background, it was clear her life had not been without hardship.

But why had the Queen involved him in this? Was Tessa some new pawn in her grand game? Or was her arrival tied to something far more sinister?

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps outside the study door. It opened quietly, and Sebastian stepped inside, his movements as fluid and precise as ever.

“Sebastian,” Ciel said without looking up, “what have you observed about our guest?”

Sebastian closed the door behind him and approached the desk, his crimson eyes gleaming with intrigue. “She’s… fascinating, my lord. A woman out of time, carrying secrets she guards with admirable tenacity. Her accent and mannerisms are unlike anything I’ve encountered, even in my long years.”

“Do you believe she poses a threat?” Ciel asked, his voice calm but firm.

“Not intentionally,” Sebastian replied, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “But she is unpredictable. That, in itself, could prove dangerous.”

Ciel nodded thoughtfully, his fingers tapping against the desk. “The Queen’s orders are clear—Tessa is to remain here until further notice. But I can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to this than she’s telling us.”

“Undoubtedly,” Sebastian said smoothly. “Miss Elliot is adept at deflecting questions, but she carries the weight of someone with much to hide.”

Ciel’s gaze sharpened. “Then we’ll have to uncover it, piece by piece. If she’s going to stay here, I want to know exactly who—or what—she is.”

Sebastian inclined his head. “Of course, my lord. Shall I begin more… thorough inquiries?”

Ciel shook his head. “Not yet. She’ll slip eventually. And when she does, we’ll be ready.”

Sebastian’s smile widened, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. “As you wish, young master.”

Ciel dismissed him with a wave, returning his attention to the letter. Tessa Elliot was an enigma, one he was determined to solve. But the question lingered in his mind: Was she a pawn, a queen, or something else entirely?

The dining room of the Phantomhive estate was nothing short of exquisite, with its high ceilings, ornate chandeliers, and long table adorned with fine silverware and pristine linens. Tessa sat near the end of the table, opposite Ciel, her posture immaculate. The soft rustle of her borrowed Victorian gown as she adjusted her seat was the only sound in the room until Sebastian entered, carrying the first course with practiced grace.

“Dinner is served,” he announced, setting the plates down with precision.

Ciel observed Tessa as she regarded the meal—a perfectly presented dish of roasted duck and root vegetables. While her expression betrayed a moment of curiosity, she handled the situation with remarkable ease. She picked up the correct utensils without hesitation, her movements smooth and practiced.

“You’re quite familiar with formal dining,” Ciel remarked, cutting into his own meal.

Tessa glanced up, her eyes flickering with a hint of amusement. “What gave it away? The fact I didn’t grab the wrong fork?”

“It’s more than that,” Ciel said, his voice measured. “Your mannerisms, the way you carry yourself—it’s clear you were raised in a household that valued decorum.”

Tessa hesitated for a moment before responding. “I suppose you could say that. Though, let’s just say my family’s definition of ‘decorum’ was… strict.”

Sebastian, who had just finished pouring tea for Ciel, lingered beside Tessa. “And yet, despite your upbringing, you lack the airs of entitlement so common among those born into privilege. It’s rather refreshing.”

Tessa arched a brow at him. “What, did you think I’d demand a golden goblet and a servant to feed me? Sorry to disappoint.”

Finny, sitting further down the table, chuckled nervously. “You’re way nicer than some of the rich folks we’ve seen around here. They can be, um… not so nice.”

“Nice way of putting it, Finny,” Mey-Rin muttered under her breath, earning a small smile from Bard, who was seated beside her.

Ciel watched Tessa carefully, his sharp gaze noting every subtle reaction. She seemed genuinely amused by the lighthearted banter, but there was something deeper—something guarded. Her poised exterior was no act, but it was clear she was keeping the full truth of her past locked away.

Tessa shifted her attention to Ciel. “Alright, then, since we’re all being so friendly—what about you, Lord Phantomhive? You’ve got a house full of colorful characters here. What’s your story?”

Ciel smirked faintly. “You presume to ask me personal questions when you’ve been so evasive about your own?”

Tessa leaned back slightly, her expression calm but defiant. “Fair point. Guess I’ve been a bit tight-lipped. But you can’t really blame me, can you? Dropped into a world that’s not my own, dressed like it’s a historical drama, and babysat by a demon butler. Trust takes time, mate.”

The room fell silent for a moment, the tension palpable. Then, to everyone’s surprise, Ciel gave a quiet chuckle.

“Fair enough,” he conceded. “But understand this—you’re in the Phantomhive estate now. Whatever secrets you’re hiding, they’ll come to light eventually.”

Tessa’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she nodded. “Guess I’ll just have to keep you guessing for a bit longer.”

Sebastian stepped forward, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Shall I clear the plates and prepare the next course, my lord?”

Ciel waved a hand dismissively, though his gaze remained fixed on Tessa. “Yes, do that. And make sure our guest feels… welcome.”

Sebastian’s smile widened as he bowed slightly. “Of course, young master. Miss Elliot, if you require anything, do not hesitate to ask.”

“Cheers, mate,” Tessa replied, her tone light but wary.

As the evening wore on, the staff grew more at ease around Tessa, and even Ciel seemed less guarded. Yet, beneath the surface, everyone knew this was only the beginning. The mystery of Tessa Elliot was far from solved, and each of them, in their own way, was determined to uncover the truth.

Weeks had passed since Tessa James Elliot had been plucked from her own time and deposited into the Victorian world of the Phantomhive estate. While adjusting to the peculiarities of her new life had been challenging, she found the quiet stability of the manor to be a welcome reprieve from her family’s cruelty. It was a strange irony, she thought, that her best moments came after being displaced to a time and place so utterly foreign.

The staff had grown accustomed to her, and she to them, though Sebastian remained a thorn in her side. The demon butler seemed to delight in testing her patience with his sly remarks and unnervingly sharp observations. Still, as frustrating as he was, even he couldn’t overshadow the fact that she was, for once, in a home where she wasn’t seen as a burden.

While adjusting to the peculiarities of her new life had been challenging, she found the quiet stability of the manor to be a welcome reprieve from her family’s cruelty. It was a strange irony, she thought, that her best moments came after being displaced to a time and place so utterly foreign.

The staff had grown accustomed to her, and she to them, though Sebastian remained a thorn in her side. The demon butler seemed to delight in testing her patience with his sly remarks and unnervingly sharp observations. Still, as frustrating as he was, even he couldn’t overshadow the fact that she was, for once, in a home where she wasn’t seen as a burden.

On this particular day, Tessa wandered the mansion aimlessly. For someone as restless and curious as she was, the routines of the estate could feel stifling. She needed something to do, something to engage her mind.

Eventually, she found herself in the storage room, a space filled with odds and ends. Her eyes caught on a collection of materials: an old mason jar, some thin wire, and bits of metal. A spark of inspiration lit in her mind.

“This’ll keep me busy,” she muttered, gathering the items.

Later, in her quarters, Tessa sat at the desk with her makeshift materials laid out before her. Using a small flame, some ingenuity, and a lot of patience, she began shaping the wire into a crude filament. With the mason jar as a container and a scrap of iron for electrodes, she set to work crafting what she hoped would resemble a light bulb. It wasn’t going to last long, nor would it be particularly bright, but it would work—if she was lucky.

Her hands worked methodically, her mind slipping back to lessons she’d absorbed about electricity and circuits in her own time. She scavenged a bit of oil from a lamp, knowing it would help seal the jar and protect the fragile filament from burning out immediately.

By nightfall, Tessa stood back from her creation with a mix of pride and nervous anticipation. She had rigged it to a rudimentary power source—an assortment of zinc and copper, which she’d scavenged from the trash without asking. The light bulb was crude, to say the least, but it was hers.

“Alright,” she murmured, placing her fingers carefully on the makeshift switch. “Moment of truth.”

She flipped it.

For a brief second, the filament inside the mason jar glowed faintly, then brighter, emitting a warm amber light that bathed the room in a soft glow. Tessa let out a triumphant laugh, though she knew the device wouldn’t last long. It wasn’t meant to—it was a proof of concept, a reminder that she could still create even in this foreign time.

The glow hadn’t gone unnoticed. The door creaked open, and a familiar voice filled the room.

“Ah, Miss Elliot,” Sebastian said smoothly, stepping inside. “I was wondering what sort of trouble you might be causing in your solitude. And here I find you, conjuring sunlight in a jar.”

Tessa sighed, rolling her eyes as she turned to face him. “Trouble, huh? If by ‘trouble,’ you mean inventing something actually useful, then sure.”

Sebastian stepped closer, inspecting the glowing jar with an amused smirk. “Crude, yet effective. Tell me, what sort of mind conceives such a thing? And why would you waste it here?”

“I needed something to do,” she replied, crossing her arms. “And I wanted to see if I could pull it off.”

Sebastian’s red eyes gleamed. “A testament to human ingenuity, no doubt. And yet, I can’t help but wonder—what else is rattling around in that brilliant mind of yours?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Tessa shot back, though her tone was more playful than defensive.

“Indeed,” Sebastian said with a smile that sent a shiver down her spine.

Before he could press further, the bulb began to dim, the filament burning out as Tessa had expected.

“There goes that,” she muttered, glancing at the fading light.

Sebastian chuckled softly. “A fleeting marvel, much like human life. How poetic.”

Tessa rolled her eyes again but couldn’t suppress a small smile. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Sebastian gave a slight bow, his smirk never wavering. “And yet, here I am.”

As he turned to leave, Tessa glanced back at her now-dark invention. For the first time in a long while, she felt a spark of pride, a reminder that even in a world so far from her own, she could still leave her mark.

Chapter 3: You’re Not Supposed to Be Here

The garden was quiet, the soft rustle of leaves and the occasional chirp of a bird the only sounds accompanying Tessa as she wandered through the manicured paths. The tranquility was a welcome contrast to the whirlwind of Victorian life she was struggling to adapt to.

As she meandered deeper into the garden, a flash of movement caught her eye. Tessa froze, her heart skipping a beat. She turned her head toward the far edge of the garden, where the shadows cast by a tall oak tree seemed to shift unnaturally.

Her breath hitched as she caught sight of a figure.

At first, she thought her eyes were playing tricks on her. But then the figure stepped into the moonlight, and Tessa’s heart dropped.

Twin pigtails.

Her mind reeled as recognition set in. It was her. It was J.

But not the J she remembered.

This J was no longer a humble worker drone. Her metallic frame had transformed, sleek and powerful, with sharp, predatory edges that gleamed in the moonlight. Her once-simple limbs now bore the unmistakable signs of advanced weaponry, and her torso had been reinforced with thick plating. Most unsettling of all, a pair of large, bladed wings extended from a panel from behind her.

Tessa’s gaze shifted to J’s optics—no longer the soft white glow she’d known, but a piercing yellow that burned with an intensity that sent a chill down her spine.

For a moment, Tessa could only stare, her mind grappling with the impossible sight before her.

J’s head tilted slightly as she studied Tessa, her expression unreadable. But then, her optics widened, and the transformation was instant.

“Tessa?” J’s voice was laced with shock, but it quickly gave way to warmth and reverence. “Tessa! It is you!”

Before Tessa could react, J dropped to one knee, bowing her head in a gesture of respect that was entirely out of place for her normally cocky demeanor.

“Miss Elliot,” J said, her tone reverent. “You’re alive.”

Tessa’s lips parted, but no words came out. Her mind raced, trying to process the sight of her once-loyal worker drone now standing before her as… whatever she had become.

Finally, she found her voice. “J… what… what happened to you?”

J rose slowly, her wings flickering again before vanishing. Her smirk returned, though it was softer, more subdued. “A lot’s happened, boss. But I’m here now, and that’s all that matters.”

Tessa took a hesitant step forward, her gaze darting over J’s transformed body. “You’re… you’re a...whatever you are, you look like an angel. But more importantly what happened to you?”

J nodded. “I don't entirely know. And, uh, I have to say, this new body’s a definite upgrade. Sleeker, faster, stronger.” She flexed her clawed fingers, the metallic joints clicking softly. “But none of that matters. You’re all that matters.”

Tessa blinked, momentarily taken aback by J’s unwavering loyalty. The cocky, self-assured tone was still there, but it was underpinned by a deep respect that hadn’t wavered despite the drastic changes.

“But how?” Tessa whispered. “How are you here? And why… why now?”

J shrugged, her smirk widening. “Beats me. One moment I’m on Copper 9, doing… disassembly drone things, and the next, I’m here. Don’t ask me to explain it—I’m just glad I found you.”

Tessa pressed a hand to her forehead, trying to steady herself. “This doesn’t make any sense.”

J stepped closer, her voice softening. “Hey. Sense or not, I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere, Tessa. You’ve got me—whatever you need, I’m yours.”

The sincerity in J’s voice was almost enough to bring tears to Tessa’s eyes. She clenched her hands into fists, fighting the sudden swell of emotion.

For the first time since arriving in this strange new world, she felt a spark of hope. Whatever had brought her here, she wasn’t alone anymore.

J leaned against a nearby tree, arms crossed, her piercing yellow optics scanning their surroundings as if expecting a threat to appear at any moment. Despite her casual stance, there was a tension in her movements that didn’t escape Tessa’s notice.

“You’ve got questions,” J began, her voice light but with an undercurrent of something darker. “Let me guess—what happened to Earth?”

Tessa swallowed, forcing herself to nod. “That’s one of them. Start there.”

J’s smirk faltered, her optics dimming slightly. “Well, long story short, Cyn happened.”

Tessa stiffened. The name alone sent a chill through her. “Cyn?”

J’s tail flicked against the ground, betraying her unease. “Yeah. After… everything, she went full apocalypse mode. Earth’s gone. She wiped it out like it was nothing.”

Tessa’s heart sank. “Gone?”

“Gone,” J confirmed, her tone clipped. “She turned the planet into a playground for her experiments, twisting everything—people, drones, the whole lot. Then she got bored and moved on to other planets.”

Tessa stared at J, her mind struggling to comprehend the scale of destruction. “And you? What about you, N, and V?”

J sighed, her hand drifting to the back of her neck as she glanced away. “We… didn’t exactly have a choice. Cyn rebuilt us, made us into what you see now—disassembly drones. Sent us out to help her destroy worlds.”

Tessa’s gaze darted over J’s transformed body, her stomach twisting. “And you just… followed her orders?”

There was a flicker of something in J’s expression—something Tessa couldn’t quite place. It was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by J’s usual bravado. “Didn’t have much of a say, boss. You know how it is. When Cyn says jump, you jump.”

But Tessa wasn’t convinced. There was something off about J’s tone, a faint hint of guilt threading through her words. “J…”

J’s optics snapped back to her, the yellow glow narrowing. “What?”

“You sound…” Tessa hesitated, unsure how to phrase it. “You sound like you regret it.”

J stiffened, her tail flicking more more nervously now. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“J,” Tessa pressed, stepping closer. “If there’s something you’re not telling me—”

“I said I don’t know what you’re talking about,” J interrupted sharply, turning away.

Tessa frowned, her concern growing. “You’re hiding something.”

J let out a dry laugh, though it lacked any real humor. “Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not. Doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’m here now, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. That’s my job.”

“But—”

“No buts, boss,” J cut in, spinning to face her. Her optics blazed with intensity, but there was a crack in her façade, a vulnerability she was desperately trying to mask. “Drop it. Please.”

The uncharacteristic plea caught Tessa off guard, and she found herself nodding, albeit reluctantly. “Fine. For now.”

J relaxed slightly, her smirk returning, though it didn’t quite reach her optics. “Good. Now, let’s focus on the important stuff. Like how the hell we’re getting out of this mess.”

Tessa crossed her arms, her gaze narrowing. “You think there’s a way back?”

J shrugged, the motion almost nonchalant. “Maybe. Maybe not. But if anyone can figure it out, it’s you, boss.”

The confidence in J’s voice was comforting, even if the situation felt hopeless.

J tilted her head, her yellow optics narrowing slightly as she crossed her arms. “Alright, boss, your turn. What are you doing here? This fancy old manor doesn’t exactly scream ‘home sweet home.’”

Tessa sighed, brushing a hand through her hair. “It’s a long story.”

J raised an eyebrow. “I’m not going anywhere. Spill.”

“Fine,” Tessa relented, crossing her arms as well. “When I got here—wherever here is—I didn’t have a choice. The Phantomhive family found me wandering outside their village. They brought me back to this estate. Their young master, Ciel, and his butler, Sebastian, are the ones looking after me for now.”

J’s optics narrowed further at the mention of the butler. “Sebastian, huh? What’s his deal?”

Tessa hesitated. “He’s… different. Not human. And let’s just say, having him around is a headache I didn’t sign up for.”

“Not human?” J echoed, her tone sharpening. “Explain.”

Before Tessa could answer, a familiar, smooth voice cut through the air. “You flatter me, Miss Elliot. How thoughtful.”

Tessa’s eyes widened as she spun around, already bracing herself for trouble. Sebastian stood a short distance away, his usual composed demeanor intact, his crimson gaze gleaming with amusement.

“Sebastian,” Tessa muttered, her voice dripping with annoyance. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough,” Sebastian replied with a small smile. “It seems you’ve made an intriguing new acquaintance.”

J stepped forward, placing herself firmly between Tessa and Sebastian. Her tail lashed at the ground, sharp and threatening. “Back off,” she snarled, her tone a far cry from her usual smugness. “You don’t get near her.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, his expression unfazed by J’s display. “My, my. Such hostility. I assure you, I have no intention of harming Miss Elliot.”

“Yeah? Well, forgive me if I don’t take you at your word, demon,” J snapped, her voice laced with venom.

Sebastian’s smile widened slightly, as if amused by her outburst. “You’re quite observant. Not many are able to identify my true nature so easily.”

“I don’t care what you are,” J retorted, her optics glowing brighter. “All I care about is keeping her safe. So unless you want to find out what I can do, you’d better keep your distance.”

“J,” Tessa said softly, placing a hand on her arm. “It’s fine. He’s… annoying, but he hasn’t hurt me.”

J glanced at Tessa, her expression softening slightly. “You sure about that, boss?”

Tessa nodded, though her eyes remained wary. “I’m sure. Just stand down, okay?”

With a reluctant sigh, J retracted her wings, though she didn’t move from her protective stance. Her gaze remained locked on Sebastian, her body coiled like a spring ready to strike.

Sebastian tilted his head, his tone light but carrying a subtle edge. “It seems you’ve acquired quite the devoted protector, Miss Elliot. How fortunate.”

Tessa shot him a glare. “Don’t start.”

“Of course not,” Sebastian replied smoothly. “However, the young master will be interested to know about your… guest.”

Tessa stiffened, realizing the complications J’s presence would bring. “Sebastian, wait—”

But the butler was already gone, his retreating figure disappearing into the shadows.

J growled lowly, her optics still trained on the spot where Sebastian had stood. “I don’t like him.”

“Join the club,” Tessa muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose.

J finally turned to face her, concern etched into her features. “Are you sure he’s safe to be around?”

Tessa hesitated before nodding. “As much as I hate to admit it, he’s saved my life a few times already. But… just stay close, okay? I don’t trust him, and I’d feel better knowing you’re around.”

J’s expression softened further, her usual cockiness replaced by something earnest. “You got it, boss. I’m not going anywhere.”

Tessa’s gaze hardened as she folded her arms, leveling a piercing look at J. “Alright, spill it. Why are you acting so protective all of a sudden? I’ve known you long enough to know this isn’t just about my safety.”

J hesitated, glancing away for a moment. Her optics dimmed slightly as she clenched her fists. “It’s… complicated.”

“I’m not going anywhere, J,” Tessa said firmly, stepping closer. “Talk to me. I need to know what’s going on.”

J let out a frustrated sigh, her wings flickering faintly as she paced a few steps. “Fine. You want the truth? Here it is. Back in our world… Cyn killed you.”

Tessa froze, her heart skipping a beat. “What?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

J stopped pacing and turned to face her, her expression uncharacteristically serious. “She didn’t just kill you. She—” J hesitated, swallowing hard before continuing. “She’s wearing you like a damn suit. Your face, your voice—she’s using them to manipulate everyone, including N and V. She turned you into some kind of… puppet.”

Tessa’s knees threatened to give out, and she took a shaky step back, her hand instinctively reaching for the nearest support. “You’re saying… Cyn’s pretending to be me? That she—”

J nodded grimly. “Yeah. And she’s good at it, too. She’s got everyone fooled, or scared enough not to question her. But when she killed you… something must’ve happened. Maybe your soul found a way to escape. I don’t know how, but now you’re here, in this world, with a new body.”

Tessa’s mind raced as she tried to process the information. Pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place—the yellow light, the strange displacement, her inexplicable presence in this universe. “That’s… that’s why I’m here,” she murmured. “When she killed me, I didn’t just die. I was… reborn, I guess, and sent here.”

J’s expression softened, guilt flickering in her yellow optics. “I couldn’t protect you back then, Tessa. I should’ve been there. I should’ve stopped her.”

Tessa stepped forward, placing a hand on J’s shoulder. “This isn’t your fault, J. You didn’t know what was going to happen.”

J shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. I failed you once, and I’m not letting it happen again. That’s why I’m acting the way I am now. I can’t let anything happen to you—not here, not ever.”

Tessa looked into J’s eyes, seeing the layers of guilt and determination behind them. Despite the surreal circumstances, she felt a pang of gratitude. “Thank you, J. For being here.”

J smirked faintly, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to me getting all sentimental. It’s bad for my image.”

Tessa managed a weak laugh, the weight of the revelation still heavy on her chest. “Noted.”

After a moment of silence, Tessa straightened, her resolve hardening. “We’ll figure this out, J. Together. But for now, we need to keep this between us. If Cyn really is using me as a disguise, I don’t want anyone in this world knowing just yet. It’ll only make things harder.”

J nodded. “Understood, boss. Your secret’s safe with me.”

Tessa glanced back toward the manor, her mind still reeling. “Let’s head inside. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

As Tessa and J turned toward the manor, the sound of footsteps on the garden path drew their attention. Emerging from the dim light spilling from the estate’s windows, Ciel Phantomhive approached, his expression calm but calculating.

“Miss Elliot,” Ciel began, his sharp blue eye flicking briefly toward J, “I’ve been informed by Sebastian that you’ve… acquired a rather peculiar companion.”

Tessa froze, glancing at J, who immediately stepped forward, her stance protective. J’s tail swished behind her, but the subtle movement was enough to reinforce the tension in the air.

“Companion’s a bit of a stretch,” J said coolly, crossing her arms. “I’d say guardian. And if you’re thinking about being a threat to Tessa, don’t.”

Ciel raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by J’s posturing. “A threat? That depends entirely on you, doesn’t it? You’re not exactly inconspicuous, and whatever you are, I doubt you belong to this time.”

J’s optics narrowed, a faint yellow glow intensifying. “What I am doesn’t matter. What does matter is that Tessa’s under my protection. So you can save the interrogation, kid.”

Tessa sighed, stepping between them. “Enough, both of you.” She placed a hand on J’s arm, her touch firm but gentle. “J, stand down. Ciel isn’t a threat.”

J hesitated, her optics darting between Tessa and Ciel, before finally relenting with a huff. “Fine. But if he tries anything—”

“He won’t,” Tessa interrupted firmly, turning to face Ciel. “Lord Phantomhive, I apologize. J… doesn’t trust easily.”

“Clearly,” Ciel remarked dryly, his gaze lingering on J. “I trust you understand why I’d find her presence concerning. An individual of her… abilities isn’t exactly commonplace, even for someone like me.”

Tessa nodded. “I understand, and I’ll take responsibility for her actions. She’s not here to cause trouble.”

J muttered something under her breath but stayed silent otherwise, her stance still tense.

Ciel studied the two of them for a moment, his expression unreadable. “Very well. For now, I’ll allow her to stay on the estate. But know this,” he added, his tone sharp as he addressed J directly, “if you pose a threat to my household or my work, I’ll have Sebastian deal with you. Permanently.”

J’s lips curled into a smirk, though there was no humor behind it. “Good luck with that.”

“J,” Tessa said warningly, and the Disassembly Drone fell silent, though her smirk didn’t fade.

Ciel turned his attention back to Tessa. “I trust you’ll ensure she doesn’t overstep.”

“I will,” Tessa promised.

“See that you do,” Ciel replied before turning and heading back toward the manor.

As soon as he was out of earshot, J crossed her arms and let out a derisive snort. “That kid’s got a stick so far up—”

“J, don’t,” Tessa interrupted, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Ciel’s the reason I even have a roof over my head right now. Please, try to show some restraint.”

J shrugged nonchalantly. “Sure, boss. Whatever you say.”

Tessa sighed. “Come on. Let’s head inside before we make things worse.”

J followed her, but not before casting one last glance at the retreating figure of Ciel. Her optics glowed faintly as she muttered, “Kid doesn’t know who he’s dealing with.”

Chapter 4: Trouble in Tow

The dim light of the late afternoon filtered into the Phantomhive estate as the staff buzzed with their usual liveliness. J sat in a high-backed chair in the parlor, her expression locked in its usual aloofness as Mey-Rin, Baldroy, and Finny peppered her with questions.

“So, uh, Miss J,” Baldroy began, scratching his head. “What exactly does a ‘Disassembly Drone’ do? Sounds… destructive.”

“Yeah!” Mey-Rin chimed in, leaning forward with wide, curious eyes. “You keep talkin’ about wings and tails, but what kind of work do ya actually do with ’em?”

J gave them a flat stare, her gaze flickering briefly to Tessa, who was sitting on the armrest beside her. Tessa smirked but offered no help, leaving J to fend off the interrogation on her own.

“It’s not work,” J said coolly. “It’s extermination. Anything alive, I’m built to destroy. That simple enough for you, or do you need me to dumb it down more?”

The three staff members exchanged uneasy glances, their curiosity now tinged with caution. Tessa rolled her eyes, nudging J with her elbow.

“Don’t scare them off, J,” Tessa said, her voice carrying a teasing lilt. “They’re just curious. Besides, if they’re asking questions, it means they’re not running away screaming.”

J huffed but remained silent, crossing her arms as Baldroy opened his mouth to ask something else. Before he could speak, the sound of approaching footsteps drew everyone’s attention.

Ciel entered the room, his cane tapping lightly against the polished floor. His expression was as calm and composed as ever, though his sharp blue eyes carried a sense of urgency. Sebastian followed close behind, his ever-present smirk hinting that he already knew the questions that were about to arise.

“I hope you’re all finished with your inane prattle,” Ciel said coolly, addressing the staff before turning his attention to J and Tessa. “I have a new task from Her Majesty, and it concerns the two of you.”

Tessa straightened up, her teasing demeanor vanishing. “What kind of task?”

Ciel gestured for everyone to focus. “Reports have been coming in from a nearby village. At night, a figure has been seen lurking in the shadows. It resembles J, though smaller and with red eyes.”

J frowned, her usual smugness replaced by a rare hint of concern. “Smaller? Red eyes?”

Tessa’s breath caught. “A worker drone,” she whispered, her Australian accent sharpening. “That has to be a worker drone from my universe. There’s no other explanation.”

Sebastian tilted his head, his crimson gaze studying Tessa. “A fascinating deduction. But if that’s the case, how do you suppose it arrived here, and why would it be lurking in such a rural area?”

Tessa’s mind raced. “I don’t know how it got here, but worker drones aren’t designed to fight. They’re workers, scavengers. If it’s hiding, it’s probably scared… or starving.”

Ciel narrowed his eyes, his voice cutting through the room’s tension. “Then it’s imperative we investigate. If this drone poses a threat to the villagers or to my estate, it must be dealt with. Sebastian, prepare the carriage. We leave at once.”

J stood abruptly, her wings shifting slightly under her cloak. “I’m coming with you.”

Ciel regarded her with suspicion. “I don’t recall inviting you.”

“I don’t need an invitation,” J shot back. “If this is one of my kind, I’m not staying behind. You wouldn’t know the first thing about handling it. Plus wherever Tessa goes, I go.”

Tessa raised her hand, her voice steady. “She’s right, Ciel. If this drone is from my universe, you’ll need J and me there to handle it.”

Ciel studied them both for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a sigh, he relented. “Fine. But the two of you will follow my orders. Is that clear?”

J smirked, her confidence returning. “Crystal.”

As Sebastian left to ready the carriage, Tessa and J exchanged a look. For once, there was no banter between them. They both understood the stakes—and the potential danger waiting in the shadows.

The rhythmic clatter of hooves on cobblestone filled the silence in the carriage as Ciel sat across from J and Tessa. His posture was straight, his hands resting on the head of his cane as he studied the two carefully. J leaned against the side of the carriage, her arms crossed, while Tessa fidgeted with her hands, clearly deep in thought.

Breaking the silence, Ciel’s sharp voice cut through the steady noise outside. “Explain to me—what exactly is a worker drone?”

Tessa looked up, her expression softening into something thoughtful. “Worker drones… well, they’re what their name says. Workers. They were built to be personal servants for humans, handling stuff like cleaning, repairs, basic construction—anything people didn’t want to do themselves.”

“Essentially glorified maids and butlers,” J added, her tone laced with disdain. “Except without the fine dining skills or sass.” She shot a pointed look at Sebastian, who sat silently beside Ciel, smirking faintly but not engaging.

Ciel tilted his head. “If they’re so useful, why does this one appear to be roaming without purpose? Surely a servant—mechanical or otherwise—would require direction.”

“That’s the thing,” Tessa said, her voice growing quieter. “If a worker drone breaks or malfunctions, humans usually don’t bother fixing them. They’re just… thrown out, like garbage.” She looked down, her fingers gripping her skirt. “I tried to help as many as I could, but there were too many. Most of them were just scrapped.”

Ciel’s eyes narrowed. “Thrown out?” He shifted his gaze to J. “And you? Were you… discarded as well?”

J let out a sharp laugh, though it lacked humor. “Me? Hardly. I wasn’t built to be tossed aside. I was built to clean up the mess humans made of their worker drones. Permanently. ”

Tessa frowned but didn’t interject. J’s bluntness wasn’t untrue, but hearing it still stung.

Ciel’s curiosity only deepened. “So, this worker drone—if it was discarded, why is it here? How could something that belongs in another world possibly find its way into mine?”

“That’s the million-dollar question,” Tessa said, forcing a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “If this drone’s here, though, it’s probably starving. Worker drones run on oil, and if it hasn’t found any…”

“…it’ll be desperate,” J finished, her tone flat. “Desperate drones do stupid things. Dangerous things.”

Ciel’s lips pressed into a thin line as he absorbed their explanations. “And if it is dangerous, can it be dealt with?”

J smirked, her wings shifting slightly under her cloak. “That’s why I’m here, isn’t it?”

“Not to wreak havoc on my orders,” Ciel replied coolly, his sharp gaze locking with J’s. “If this drone is a threat, it will be dealt with efficiently and quietly. I will not have you turning this into a spectacle.”

J rolled her eyes but nodded. “Fine. Whatever you say, little lord.”

Tessa sighed, leaning back against the carriage seat. “If we can talk to it, maybe we can figure out why it’s here. Worker drones are usually harmless… but if it’s been through enough, it might not be thinking clearly.”

Ciel leaned back as well, his fingers tapping lightly on his cane. “We’ll find out soon enough. But know this: if this drone is a threat to my estate or to the Queen’s peace, I will not hesitate to remove it.”

Tessa didn’t respond, but her hands clenched tightly in her lap. J remained silent, her gaze fixed out the window, though her mind was already preparing for the worst.

As the village loomed closer, the air in the carriage grew heavy with anticipation. Whatever awaited them in the shadows of the village, it was sure to be something none of them would forget.

The sound of shattering glass was sudden and violent, the stone landing with a thud on the carriage floor. A faint hum followed, the air thick with a foreboding energy as a three-pointed red holographic glyph flickered to life on the stone.

“Oh no,” Tessa whispered, her face paling as she immediately recognized the mark.

J’s demeanor changed in an instant. Her wings unfurled beneath her cloak with a faint metallic hiss, and her eyes narrowed into slits. “Solver,” she spat, her voice filled with venom.

Ciel’s cane shot up as he shielded his face from the glass shards, glaring toward the now-broken window. “What’s going on?”

Sebastian, unfazed as ever, was already stepping forward to investigate, his crimson eyes gleaming. “It seems we’ve caught someone’s attention.”

Before anyone could say more, distant shouting reached their ears. The voice was loud, harsh, and rapid-fire in a language unfamiliar to Ciel.

“Russian,” Tessa muttered under her breath. “That’s Russian.”

The carriage lurched to a stop as the shouting grew closer. Outside, in the shadowy tree line, a figure darted between the trunks, its form barely illuminated by the moonlight. Its movements were impossibly fast, erratic, and accompanied by a mechanical hum.

J’s optics zeroed in on the figure instantly. Her claws slid out of her hands with a faint snikt as she crouched, ready to pounce. “Stay here,” she ordered sharply, not waiting for a response before leaping out of the carriage and landing on the dirt road with a resounding thud.

“Who gave her orders?” Ciel muttered, clearly unimpressed.

“Hardly a question worth asking, young master,” Sebastian replied with a smirk. “It’s not as though she listens to anyone.”

Tessa leaned toward the broken window, her voice urgent. “J, don’t underestimate it! Solver drones don’t play fair!”

J didn’t respond, already scanning the tree line for movement. The shouting had stopped, replaced by an eerie silence.

And then, without warning, the drone struck.

It appeared in a flicker of red light, standing atop the carriage for a brief moment before teleporting again, its laughter echoing through the night. The language was still Russian, sharp and mocking.

J lunged forward, her bladed wings extending in a metallic flash as she slashed at empty air. The drone vanished again, reappearing behind her and delivering a sharp kick that sent her skidding across the dirt road.

“Ты медленная!” the drone taunted, its voice sharp and mechanical.

“Stop running and fight me!” J growled, recovering quickly and launching herself toward the drone again. Her claws extended, slicing through the air where the drone had been only a split second earlier.

Ciel and Sebastian stepped out of the carriage, the young earl watching the battle with a mix of fascination and frustration. “This isn’t just another drone, is it?”

“No,” Tessa replied grimly, stepping down as well. “It’s not.”

“Then what is it?”

Tessa glanced at him, her expression tense. “A worker drone, infected by the Absolute Solver. It’s… well, calling it dangerous would be an understatement.”

J and the drone continued their deadly dance, with the infected worker teleporting unpredictably and J narrowly avoiding each counterattack. Every time J got close, the drone would flicker out of existence, reappearing a few feet away with another taunt.

“Это всё, на что ты способна?” it sneered.

“Shut up!” J snapped, her tail whipping around in a deadly arc, but it too missed its mark.

Tessa cupped her hands around her mouth. “J, stop fighting on its terms! It’s just trying to wear you down!”

J snarled, but Tessa’s words struck a chord. Adjusting her stance, she stopped chasing the drone and planted her feet firmly. Her bladed wings folded slightly, creating a defensive barrier as her claws retracted.

The infected drone hesitated, clearly annoyed by the sudden change in strategy. It flickered again, appearing just a few feet away from J, its red eyes blazing.

“Come on,” J taunted, her voice low and steady. “Let’s see what you’ve got when you can’t run.”

For a moment, the drone seemed to consider its options, its head tilting in an almost human gesture. Then it spoke again, but this time, in a calm, measured tone.

“Интересно… Посмотрим, как долго ты сможешь продержаться.”

It lunged forward, and the battle resumed with renewed intensity.

The infected drone lunged at J, claws extended, aiming for her chest. But J, anticipating the move, sidestepped with precision and slammed the drone into the ground with a resounding crash. She pinned it down, one knee pressing into its back while her claws locked its arms.

“Gotcha,” J muttered, her tone victorious but wary.

The drone thrashed beneath her, red eyes glowing brighter as it hissed and snarled in Russian. J adjusted her grip, wings flaring slightly as she put more pressure on the drone’s limbs.

“Tessa, Ciel, Sebastian—stay back,” J barked without looking up.

Tessa, however, stepped closer, curiosity overriding caution. “J, who is this?”

J exhaled sharply, her optics still fixed on the writhing drone beneath her. “Her name’s Doll. She’s a Solver drone I’ve had the misfortune of dealing with before.”

“Отпусти меня, идиот!” Doll spat, her voice crackling with static as she struggled against J’s grip.

“Not a chance,” J shot back, tightening her hold. “You’re not getting away this time.”

Ciel and Sebastian approached cautiously, their expressions varying between curiosity and suspicion. Doll’s movements slowed, her head tilting just enough for the group to get a good look at her.

Her red eyes flickered with malice, and her long purple hair spilled out in messy strands from the back of her head casing. She was wearing an outfit Ciel couldn’t quite place—a cropped top and a pleated skirt, paired with what looked like athletic sneakers. To him, it was bizarrely inappropriate and wholly unfamiliar.

“J,” Tessa said quietly, her gaze fixed on Doll’s face. “She’s wearing… an eyepatch.”

“Yeah,” J muttered. “Always has been. Covers the right side of her visor. Never got a straight answer why.”

Ciel raised an eyebrow, his gaze narrowing. “That attire… What exactly is she supposed to be wearing?”

“A cheerleading outfit,” Tessa replied flatly, crossing her arms.

“Cheerleading?” Ciel echoed, baffled.

Tessa waved it off. “I’ll explain later.”

Sebastian’s crimson eyes gleamed with interest as he crouched slightly, observing Doll’s restrained form. “And what, pray tell, is she doing here?”

J growled. “That’s what I’d like to know.”

Doll let out a low chuckle, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Я могла бы сказать вам, но где в этом веселье?”

“Speak in English,” J snapped, shaking her slightly.

Doll’s laughter grew louder as she tilted her head to look at J. “And ruin the mystery? No thanks.”

“Figures,” J muttered, rolling her optics.

Tessa crouched next to J, her voice softer. “J… is she going to be a problem?”

J hesitated before answering. “She’s always been out for herself. Solver drones like her don’t play well with others, and Doll especially likes to stir up chaos.”

Doll grinned, revealing sharp, metallic teeth. “Aw, J, you flatter me.”

Ciel folded his arms, his expression unreadable as he glanced between J and Doll. “What exactly do you suggest we do with her?”

Sebastian straightened, his gaze flicking to the still-struggling drone. “I could dispose of her if you wish, my lord.”

J immediately snapped her wings open, shielding Doll from Sebastian’s view. “Touch her, and I’ll shred you.”

Sebastian’s smirk widened. “How protective.”

Tessa sighed, rubbing her temples. “J, we can’t just let her run loose. She’s dangerous.”

“I know that,” J replied, her tone sharp. “But she’s my problem to deal with.”

Ciel stepped forward, his sharp eyes locking on J. “She’s on my estate now, which makes her my problem. If you want her to stay in one piece, you’d better make sure she doesn’t step out of line.”

J glanced at him, her optics narrowing. “Fine. But if she causes trouble, I’ll handle it. My way.”

Doll, still pinned beneath J, smirked. “This is going to be fun.”

Chapter 5: An Invitation

Notes:

Sorry for ghosting ya'll, been busy with school

As the carriage rolled back to the Phantomhive estate, J sat with her arms crossed, casting occasional glares at Doll, who was securely restrained with Sebastian’s handiwork. The Russian drone sat opposite her, bound at the wrists and ankles with heavy, reinforced straps that glowed faintly from some sort of demonic enchantment. Despite her predicament, Doll’s single visible red optic remained defiant, darting between her captors.

“I don’t know how you convinced me to let Sebastian tie me up like this,” Doll grumbled in Russian, though her voice carried a hint of amusement.

“I didn’t convince you. I forced you,” J retorted sharply, switching to Russian for a moment before returning to English for Tessa’s sake. “You’re lucky you’re even sitting here instead of locked in a basement.”

Tessa, seated next to J, glanced between them with a sigh. “Will you two give it a rest? We’ve got bigger problems to think about, like how we’re supposed to explain all of this to the Queen.”

J snorted. “What’s there to explain? Doll’s a menace, I’m not much better, and you’re just here trying to keep the peace. Sounds straightforward to me.”

Tessa gave her a pointed look. “Because that’s exactly how this will go, right? The Queen definitely won’t have questions about why two robots from the future are running around Victorian England.”

Before J could reply, the carriage rattled to a halt in front of the manor. Sebastian stepped out first, his crimson eyes gleaming in the dim light as he gestured for the others to follow. “Welcome home, my lord,” he said as he opened the carriage door for Ciel, who stepped down with his usual air of authority.

As J and Tessa helped maneuver Doll out of the carriage—despite her grumbled protests—Sebastian took the lead toward the manor. “I’ll ensure everything is prepared for our unexpected guest,” he said smoothly, nodding toward Doll.

Once inside, Ciel made his way to his study, where a folded note bearing the Queen’s seal sat waiting on his desk. His blue eye narrowed as he broke the wax seal and unfolded the parchment.

“What does it say?” Tessa asked as she leaned in slightly, trying to read over his shoulder.

Ciel scanned the note quickly, his expression tightening. “It’s an invitation from the Queen.”

“For just you?” J asked, her tone guarded.

Ciel shook his head, placing the letter on the desk. “No. She’s requesting my presence… along with Tessa and both of you.” He shot a pointed glance at J and Doll.

J’s optics brightened slightly in surprise. “She wants to meet me?”

“And me!” Doll added, smirking as much as her mechanical face would allow.

“Apparently,” Ciel said, his tone flat. “Though I doubt it’s because she’s charmed by your personalities. She’s specifically requested we come to Buckingham Palace to meet her in person.”

Sebastian, standing quietly by the doorway, smiled faintly. “How intriguing. Her Majesty’s curiosity must have been thoroughly piqued.”

Tessa groaned, running a hand through her hair. “This just keeps getting better and better.”

J folded her arms, leaning back slightly. “So, what’s the plan, then? Are we just going to waltz into Buckingham Palace and hope no one freaks out about us?”

Ciel tapped his fingers on the desk, his expression thoughtful. “Sebastian and I will handle the logistics. As for you two”—he glanced at J and Doll—“you’ll need to behave. That means no fighting, no unnecessary displays of power, and absolutely no harming anyone without my explicit permission.”

J raised her hands defensively. “Relax, I get it. No chaos, no murder. I can manage that.”

Doll snickered. “Speak for yourself.”

“Doll,” Tessa said sharply, fixing her with a warning glare.

“Fine, fine,” Doll muttered, shrugging as much as her restraints allowed. “I’ll play nice. For now.”

Sebastian stepped forward, his smile never wavering. “Then it’s settled. I’ll make the necessary arrangements. My lord, I trust you’ll leave the finer details to me.”

Ciel nodded curtly. “See to it that everything is prepared. We leave for London in two days.”

As the group dispersed, Tessa couldn’t help but feel a growing unease about the upcoming visit. Meeting the Queen wasn’t going to be easy—especially not with J and Doll in tow. But there was no turning back now.

 

Tessa sat cross-legged on the rug in her quarters, her brow furrowed as she worked to untangle the straps still binding Doll’s wrists. The Russian drone had finally been permitted a reprieve from Sebastian’s reinforced restraints, but only under Tessa’s supervision—and much to J’s irritation.

J stood behind Tessa, arms crossed and her optic glowing faintly with suspicion as she watched Doll like a hawk. Her presence was anything but subtle; she was practically breathing down Tessa’s neck.

“You know,” Tessa said without looking up, “you could make yourself useful instead of just standing there.”

J huffed, her metal fingers tapping impatiently against her arm. “I am being useful. I’m making sure she doesn’t try anything.”

Doll’s red optic flickered with amusement. “You act like I’m about to rip her throat out. Relax, comrade. I’m a guest here now, aren’t I?”

“A guest who tried to teleport into the manor and kill someone two days ago,” J shot back.

Tessa groaned, pulling the last strap free and tossing it aside. “Enough, you two. I don’t have the energy to referee another one of your squabbles.” She turned her attention to Doll, inspecting the drone’s wrists for any damage from the restraints.

Doll tilted her head, clearly unbothered. “You’re awfully gentle for someone who keeps company with that one,” she said, nodding toward J.

“Yeah, well,” Tessa replied, brushing her hair back from her face, “I have enough people bossing me around without adding to the list. So I’m choosing to be the reasonable one here.”

J scoffed. “Reasonable? You’re letting a Solver-touched menace roam free in a Victorian manor. I wouldn’t call that reasonable.”

Doll smirked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Aww, you do care.”

J’s wings briefly flicked out of her back before retracting again, a sign of her mounting irritation. “I don’t care. I just don’t trust you.”

Tessa placed a hand on J’s arm, forcing her to back down. “Look, I get it. You’ve got history with her, and I’m not saying she’s completely off the hook. But for now, we need to make this work. You don’t have to like it, but you do have to stop breathing down my neck.”

J grumbled under her breath but finally stepped back, giving Tessa a little more space.

Doll took the opportunity to stretch, flexing her fingers experimentally. “You’re lucky, Tessa,” she said casually. “Most people wouldn’t bother trying to help me. Especially not when I’m the outsider.”

“Maybe that’s why I’m doing it,” Tessa replied, her tone neutral. “Everyone deserves at least a chance.”

Doll seemed to mull over the words, her usual smirk softening slightly. But before she could respond, J cut in.

“Don’t fall for it, Tessa. She’ll stab you in the back the second you let your guard down.”

Tessa sighed, rubbing her temples. “And on that cheerful note, I’m calling it a day. Doll, you stay here. J, if you’re going to hover, at least do it from the other side of the room.”

J reluctantly obeyed, retreating to lean against the far wall. Doll, meanwhile, settled onto the edge of the bed, her red optic fixed on Tessa with an inscrutable expression.

As Tessa began tidying up the room, she couldn’t help but feel the weight of both drones’ gazes on her. J’s protective paranoia and Doll’s enigmatic presence created a tension that was almost tangible.

“Great,” Tessa muttered to herself. “This is my life now. Babysitting two overpowered robots with egos bigger than the entire manor.”

Neither drone responded, but Tessa could swear she saw a flicker of amusement in Doll’s optic before she turned away.

As the tension in the room settled into an uneasy quiet, Tessa leaned back against the wall and glanced at Doll, her curiosity getting the better of her. The eyepatch over Doll’s right optic had caught her attention since the moment they’d met, and the way Doll carried herself—confident, almost smug—made it stand out even more. It felt… off.

“Alright, Doll,” Tessa said casually, trying to ease into the question. “I’ve gotta ask. What’s with the eyepatch?”

Doll’s red optic flickered as she turned her head slightly, her expression unreadable. “What about it?”

“Well, it’s just… not exactly standard for a Solver drone, is it?” Tessa continued, keeping her tone light. “You’ve got that whole teleporting, reality-bending thing going on, but an eyepatch? Seems a bit low-tech for someone like you.”

J, who had been silently observing from the corner of the room, raised an optic ridge but said nothing.

Doll’s lips twitched into a faint smirk, though there was a guarded edge to her voice. “It’s a look. You don’t like it?”

“I didn’t say that,” Tessa replied, crossing her arms. “I’m just wondering what’s underneath it. Did something happen?”

Doll’s optic narrowed, and for a moment, it seemed like she wasn’t going to answer. But then Tessa gave her a small, disarming smile—the kind that said I’m just trying to understand, not judge.

With a sigh, Doll leaned back on the bed, reaching up to the strap of the eyepatch. “You’re not going to shut up about it, are you?”

“Not a chance,” Tessa replied, her smile widening.

“Fine,” Doll muttered. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

She unfastened the strap and slowly pulled the eyepatch away. The right side of her visor came into view, and Tessa’s smile immediately faded.

The surface was cracked—fractured in jagged lines that spider-webbed across the once-smooth glass. Worse, the damage didn’t look recent; the edges of the cracks were dull and weathered, as if they’d been there for a long time. What truly caught Tessa’s attention, though, was the faint but unmistakable flicker of static in the damaged optic. It wasn’t healing.

Tessa leaned closer, her brows furrowing. “That… doesn’t look good. Shouldn’t it have repaired itself by now? Solver drones regenerate, don’t they?”

Doll’s smirk returned, but it was bitter this time. “Not this one. It’s been like this for… a while.”

Tessa glanced at J, who had straightened up and was watching intently. “Do you know what caused it?”

Doll shrugged, her tone turning flippant, though the underlying tension was impossible to miss. “Oh, you know. Solver stuff. A little rebellion here, a little punishment there. You get the idea.”

Tessa frowned. “Punishment? From Cyn?”

Doll didn’t answer right away, her gaze fixed on the floor. “You ask a lot of questions, Aussie.”

“That’s kind of my thing,” Tessa said, sitting down beside her. “And I’m not going to stop asking until you tell me the truth.”

Doll hesitated, her fingers brushing over the cracked visor. “Let’s just say… I wasn’t playing nice with Cyn’s plan. She didn’t take kindly to that. I got off easy compared to what she usually does.”

J let out a low growl. “That’s why I said you couldn’t be trusted.”

“Trust isn’t the issue here, comrade,” Doll snapped, her tone sharp. “This is about survival. You’ve never been on Cyn’s bad side, have you? Because if you had, you’d know this is nothing.”

Tessa placed a hand on Doll’s shoulder, silencing the brewing argument. “So you went against Cyn, and this is what you got for it.” Her voice was soft, almost sympathetic.

Doll’s optic met hers, and for a moment, the stoic mask slipped, revealing something raw beneath. “Yeah. That’s what I got.”

Tessa gave her shoulder a light squeeze. “Well, you’ve got us now. And I don’t know what we’re going to do about Cyn, but I can promise you this: you’re not dealing with her alone anymore.”

Doll blinked, clearly taken aback, before quickly replacing her mask of indifference. “You’re too soft, Aussie. It’s going to get you killed someday.”

“Maybe,” Tessa said with a shrug. “But not today.”

J, still tense, crossed her arms and muttered under her breath. “If she betrays us, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Doll smirked faintly, putting the eyepatch back in place. “Don’t worry, I’ll play nice. For now.”

As the conversation settled, Tessa couldn’t shake the feeling that the cracks in Doll’s visor were more than just physical—they were a glimpse into the cracks Cyn had left in her spirit. And as much as J protested, Tessa knew she couldn’t let Doll face that alone.

Chapter 6: Out of Place

The wheels of the wagon creaked beneath them as J shifted uncomfortably. The space was cramped, barely enough for the two drones to sit without brushing against the other. Not that J particularly cared about personal space—she just hated being trapped under a tarp like some kind of illicit cargo.

“This is humiliating,” J muttered, her tone sharp as her optics adjusted to the dim light filtering through the canvas.

Across from her, Doll leaned back against the wooden frame of the wagon, her legs crossed and an almost smug expression on her face. “You complain too much,” Doll replied in her thick Russian accent, her voice tinged with amusement. “At least you don’t have to share space with something as insufferable as yourself.”

J’s optics narrowed. “At least I’m not a walking liability. The last time you tried anything, I had to pull you out of a mess you couldn’t handle.”

“Big talk for someone who needed Tessa to keep her in line,” Doll shot back, a smirk tugging at her lips.

J opened her mouth to retort, but the wagon hit a bump, jolting both of them. She slammed her claws against the wooden boards to steady herself, muttering a string of colorful curses under her breath. Doll, on the other hand, barely moved, her smugness intact.

“Do you ever shut up?” J snapped.

“Do you?” Doll countered, leaning her head back lazily.

The silence that followed was tense but oddly tolerable. J fiddled with the edge of the tarp, lifting it just enough to get a glimpse of the carriage ahead of them. She could see Tessa and Ciel through the window, deep in conversation about something undoubtedly important.

“She shouldn’t be in there with them,” J muttered, more to herself than to Doll.

Doll raised an eyebrow. “Jealous? Or just overprotective?”

“Neither,” J said quickly, her tone defensive. “I just… don’t trust anyone who isn’t me to keep her safe.”

Doll tilted her head, studying J’s expression. “You really are attached to her,” she said, almost mockingly. “It’s pathetic.”

J turned to glare at her. “And what about you? Why are you even here? You’ve made it clear you’re only out for yourself, so why not just run off the first chance you get?”

Doll’s smirk faded, and for a moment, her expression grew unreadable. “I don’t run,” she said flatly, her voice colder than usual.

The weight of her words lingered between them, filling the cramped space under the tarp with an unspoken tension. J decided not to press further. She didn’t care about Doll’s reasons—or at least, that’s what she told herself.

Outside, the sounds of London grew louder. The hum of the crowd, the clatter of hooves on cobblestone, and the distant chime of a clock tower all filtered through the thick canvas.

J leaned back against the side of the wagon, her optics dimming slightly as she settled in for what would undoubtedly be a long and uncomfortable journey. Doll, for once, didn’t say anything.

They both sat in silence, the only connection between them being their shared disdain for their current predicament.

Tessa adjusted her posture as the carriage bumped along the uneven streets of London, trying to mimic Ciel’s poised demeanor. Outside, the sights of Victorian London passed by—smoke curling from chimneys, gas lamps lining the streets, and the bustle of pedestrians going about their day. Tessa found it quaint but stifling compared to what she was used to.

“Try not to stare out the window too much,” Ciel said, his voice calm but pointed. “You’re already peculiar enough without gawking at everything like it’s a circus.”

Tessa blinked and quickly pulled her gaze away from the window. “Right. Got it,” she muttered, leaning back into her seat. Her Aussie drawl slipped through, and she winced inwardly. She’d been trying to tone it down, but old habits died hard.

“You’re struggling,” Ciel noted, his tone dry but not unkind. “You need to blend in, not stick out like a sore thumb. Elizabeth already finds you fascinating, but others may not be so forgiving.”

“I’m trying, mate,” Tessa replied, biting her tongue after realizing her slip. “I mean, I’m doing my best. This whole… era is just a lot to take in.” She gestured vaguely to the window. “Everything’s so… smoky. And slow.”

Ciel’s expression flickered with something between amusement and annoyance. “Yes, well, try to keep your observations to yourself. You’ll draw less attention that way.”

Tessa nodded, smoothing the fabric of her dress—a style she wasn’t used to but had begrudgingly adapted to. She glanced out of the corner of her eye at Ciel, who was studying her with a calculating gaze.

After a moment, Ciel leaned forward slightly and reached for the shades on the carriage windows. He pulled them down one by one, obscuring the view and dimming the interior. “This should give us some privacy,” he said, settling back into his seat. His sharp blue eyes met hers, and his tone shifted, becoming quieter but no less direct. “Tell me, what year are you from?”

The question caught Tessa off guard. She hesitated, looking down at her hands as she fiddled with the folds of her dress. “I… I don’t know the exact year,” she admitted. “Dates weren’t exactly something I was paying attention to when things went sideways. But I do know it’s sometime in the 3020s.”

Ciel raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. “The 3020s,” he repeated, as though testing how the words felt on his tongue. “A thousand years from now, give or take. No wonder you find this era primitive.”

Tessa chuckled dryly, though there was little humor in it. “Primitive’s one way to put it. No offense, but your idea of cutting-edge technology is, what, gaslights and steam engines? Back home, we had drones and AI running everything.”

Ciel tilted his head slightly, curiosity flickering in his gaze. “And yet, despite all that advancement, you ended up here, in a world you clearly don’t belong to. Why do you think that is?”

Tessa opened her mouth to respond but hesitated. She didn’t have an answer. She’d been asking herself the same question since she arrived. Why was she here? And why had J and Doll shown up too? Was this some kind of cosmic joke, or was there a purpose to it all?

“I don’t know,” she said finally, her voice quieter. “But I’m starting to think this isn’t just some random accident.”

Ciel’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes seemed to sharpen, as if filing her words away for later consideration. “Perhaps not,” he said. “But for now, you’ll need to focus on fitting in. The Queen is not someone who tolerates oddities lightly.”

Tessa smirked faintly. “I’ll do my best, mate. Just don’t expect me to start sipping tea with my pinky out.”

Ciel allowed a small, rare smile. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

The conversation shifted to lighter topics as the carriage continued toward their destination, but Tessa couldn’t shake the feeling that Ciel’s questions—and her answers—would come back to haunt her sooner rather than later.

The carriage rolled to a stop just beyond the public view, within the secluded grounds of Buckingham Palace. Tessa peeked out through the small gap in the curtains as the towering gates swung shut behind them. The grand facade of the palace loomed ahead, its pale stone glinting in the late afternoon light. Despite herself, she felt a twinge of awe. Even by her standards, the place was impressive.

Sebastian opened the door of the carriage and stepped aside with his usual practiced grace. Ciel exited first, as poised and proper as ever, and Tessa followed, doing her best not to trip over the hem of her dress. The moment her feet touched the gravel, a new figure appeared from the palace steps.

A tall man with immaculate white hair and striking blue eyes approached, his pristine white suit and gloves adding to his almost ethereal presence. He moved with the fluidity of a practiced butler, and his smile was both polite and unsettling.

“A pleasure to see you again, Lord Phantomhive,” the man greeted, bowing slightly before straightening and turning his attention to Tessa. “And you must be Miss Tessa.”

Tessa tilted her head, sizing him up. “You’d be Ash, I take it? The Queen’s personal butler?”

Ash gave a slight smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Indeed. Her Majesty has spoken of you and your companions with great interest.” He gestured toward the palace doors. “She looks forward to meeting someone from the far future. You, of course, need not feel the burden of acting within the constraints of this time during your meeting.”

Tessa raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by the comment. “So, she knows… about me and J and Doll?”

“She is the Queen,” Ash said simply, as if that answered everything. “Her Majesty is well aware of the unique nature of her visitors today, and she has instructed me to ensure your companions are brought to her discreetly. She is particularly curious about their… mechanical nature.”

Tessa crossed her arms, glancing back toward the second wagon trailing behind the carriage. “Curious, huh? Hopefully not curious enough to poke and prod them.”

Ash’s smile widened, and Tessa wasn’t sure if it was meant to be reassuring or something more sinister. “You need not worry. Her Majesty is simply eager to observe. She has no intention of interfering with them.”

Ciel cleared his throat, drawing Ash’s attention back to him. “I trust everything has been prepared as per her instructions?”

“Of course,” Ash replied smoothly. “Your arrival has been anticipated. If you and Miss Tessa would follow me, arrangements have been made to bring your… companions inside without attracting unnecessary attention.”

Tessa glanced at Ciel, who gave her a subtle nod before stepping forward. She followed suit, her curiosity and apprehension growing with each step toward the palace doors.

Her mind raced as they entered the grand building. What exactly did the Queen want with her and the drones? And how much did she already know?

Chapter 7: Count Your Cyn's

Doll jolted with each cobblestone the wagon rattled over, the rough ride doing little to ease her already frayed patience. The thick canvas draped over her and J blocked out most of the light, though slivers of it slipped through the gaps, casting thin, shifting beams across their metallic frames. She scowled beneath her visor, boredom gnawing at her.

Finally, the wagon came to a halt. The light dimmed as evening settled in, and with a sharp rustle, the canvas was pulled away. A collective gasp rippled through the gathered crowd. Doll blinked at the sudden exposure, her optics adjusting to the sight of well-dressed servants staring in barely-contained curiosity.

Much to her growing dismay, Sebastian was among them, standing with his ever-present, devilish smile. His crimson gaze flickered with amusement as he regarded them like one might observe an unruly pair of children.

"You need not worry, my friends," he cooed smoothly, gesturing toward them with an elegant sweep of his hand. "They are merely harmless travelers, no different from you or I."

Doll shot J a skeptical look. Harmless? That was rich coming from him of all people.

Sebastian’s smile remained unwavering as he motioned for them to step down. "Come now, do not be shy. Her Majesty is expecting all of you."

Doll exhaled through her vents and hopped down, landing with a soft metallic thud. As she straightened, she could feel the eyes of the onlookers lingering, their whispers crawling up her back like insects.

J followed suit, far less amused than Doll, her sharp golden visor scanning the area warily.

"Try not to look so displeased, Miss J," Sebastian mused, turning on his heel to lead them forward. "You are, after all, about to be in the presence of a Queen. One would think you'd at least attempt to appear honored."

Doll let out a quiet chuckle at J’s barely restrained irritation, but even she couldn't deny the slight unease creeping into her circuits. Meeting a queen? That wasn't something she'd ever expected to experience, alive or... well, whatever she was now.

Still, there was no turning back.

With reluctant steps, they followed Sebastian into the palace.

"Я думал, нас не должны видеть." Doll murmured in Russian, her voice low with irritation.

Without missing a beat, Sebastian replied in the same language, his fluency unnervingly perfect. "Слугам было приказано хранить ваше существование в тайне. Теперь идите, мисс Долл." His voice carried an audible smirk, the words rolling off his tongue as effortlessly as if he had been born speaking them.

Doll's visor flickered in surprise, but before she could formulate a response, a soft chuckle broke the moment.

She snapped her head to the side, locking eyes with J, who, much to her disbelief, was stifling a grin.

"Are you really laughing at this?" Doll hissed, her tone edged with incredulity.

J merely shrugged, the corners of her mouth twitching upward. "What can I say? It’s funny."

Doll groaned, exasperated, before throwing a glare back at Sebastian. His smug expression hadn't wavered in the slightest, and something about the way he watched them, ever patient, ever amused, made her circuits itch with frustration.

Of course he spoke Russian. Of course nothing ever caught him off guard.

After only a few moments of trailing behind Sebastian, Doll’s curiosity got the better of her. Without a word, she veered off from the group, slipping away into the labyrinthine corridors of the palace like a shadow.

Meanwhile, in a far more refined section of Buckingham Palace, Tessa was engaged in a battle of her own.

Seated uncomfortably on an ornate chair, she fidgeted incessantly, struggling to maintain some semblance of grace as her dress bunched and twisted beneath her. No matter how she shifted, the layers of fabric seemed determined to make a mockery of her attempts at proper posture.

Across from her, Ciel sat with his usual deadpan expression, one elbow propped on the arm of his chair, fingers lightly curled against his temple as he observed her plight in silence.

Tessa let out a frustrated sigh, muttering under her breath as she continued to tug at the dress, small modern Aussie phrases slipping through before she could catch them.

Ciel’s gaze flickered with something between mild amusement and resignation. "If you are quite finished waging war against your attire, Miss Tessa, perhaps you might consider sitting still for a moment?"

Tessa gave him a sheepish grin, pausing her struggle just long enough to throw him a mock glare. "Easy for you to say—you’re not the one being strangled by a glorified curtain."

Ciel merely sighed. This was going to be a long conversation. 

The door swung open with an almost regal flourish, and in strode a woman dressed in somber black. Her presence filled the room with an undeniable weight, and in her hand, she held a bow—a bow that Tessa could instantly tell wasn’t meant for this time, much like herself.

The woman moved with effortless grace, taking her seat in an intricately carved chair that exuded authority and elegance. Ciel, ever composed, bowed his head in respect, and the gesture made something click in Tessa’s mind. The woman was no ordinary guest. This was the Queen.

"Hello, Miss Tessa," the Queen greeted, her voice smooth and composed, as she held up the bow, examining it with a quiet intensity.

Tessa’s stomach churned as she stared at the bow, her heart sinking with the realization. It was the same bow she had tied in Cyn’s hair. The familiar feeling of dread crept over her like a cold, suffocating fog.

She tried to steady her breath, forcing herself to remain composed, but the memories of Cyn—of that time—began to flood her mind once more. The bow was an innocent symbol to others, but to Tessa, it was a painful reminder of all the destruction and pain Cyn had wrought, the horror that had been attached to such a simple thing.

Tessa’s hand twitched at her side, her gaze glued to the bow, but she said nothing. What could she say?

“Ciel, please inform our guest,” the Queen said, her tone calm and measured.

Ciel straightened and cleared his throat as if preparing for a formal announcement. “Tessa James Elliot, this is Queen Victoria of England.” He motioned toward the Queen, who offered Tessa a small, welcoming smile.

Tessa’s heart raced as she tried to keep her composure. The presence of the Queen, her calm authority, and the weight of the moment pressed down on her. The bow, Cyn’s bow, still lingered in her mind, but she forced herself to push it aside. She had to focus on the now, not the past.

“I-I-it’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty,” Tessa stammered, her voice wavering slightly, betraying the nerves that had been building ever since they had arrived. The Queen observed her with a curious expression, her gaze softening just a fraction.

“Tessa,” the Queen said gently, her voice like a balm to Tessa’s frayed nerves, “you don’t have to be afraid around me. I understand you’re not of this time.” She paused, her gaze thoughtful. “I understand your past is… rough.” The words were almost motherly, the Queen’s empathy evident in the warmth she conveyed.

Before Tessa could respond, a shadow moved swiftly in the periphery of her vision. Ash, with his unsettling grace, appeared by the Queen’s side. His presence mirrored that of Sebastian—quiet, composed, and slightly unnerving.

Tessa instinctively stiffened, her attention momentarily shifting to Ash, who offered her an unreadable look, his expression as calm and calculated as always.

“I-I…it’s…the bow you’re holding, Your Majesty. I-it belonged to someone—something—I considered a friend.” Tessa’s voice faltered as she averted her gaze from the Queen, the weight of the memory pressing heavily on her chest.

The Queen observed Tessa for a moment before lowering the bow, her expression thoughtful. She leaned slightly toward Ash, murmuring something softly to him before handing the bow over.

“As you wish, Your Majesty,” Ash responded smoothly, his voice like velvet. With a subtle shift, he disappeared into the shadows, moving with a grace that reminded Tessa of Sebastian’s own uncanny ability to appear and vanish.

Once Ash had gone, the Queen turned her focus back to Tessa. Her expression softened further, and she spoke with even more tenderness. “Do you mind telling me about this… friend?” The warm smile on her face was unwavering, a motherly understanding in her gaze.

Tessa forced herself to take a deep breath, her hands trembling ever so slightly as she nodded. She had to try her best to explain, to make the Queen understand what a worker drone was—how to describe something so far removed from Victorian England? A very easy task indeed. She could only hope she didn’t sound too... strange.

Elsewhere within the palace, Doll was walking through the halls with a pace that was neither cautious nor reckless. Her red optic scanned every door, her mechanical mind analyzing each one with precision. As she neared the guest wing, she noticed the slivers of sunlight spilling out from beneath each door. They were a clear sign of the rooms being occupied. She couldn't enter without drawing attention.

Except for one.

Doll stepped up to the door, her gloved hand hovering for a moment over the brass knob. There was a hesitation—an instinctive pause—before she grasped it and turned. Inside, the room was cloaked in near darkness, save for the faint flicker of an oil lamp casting a dim light on the furniture. The heavy blackout curtains seemed to absorb any trace of daylight, making the space feel isolated from the world beyond.

But what caught Doll’s attention, more than the gloom or the shadows, was the figure sitting on the bed. It was her—the one she’d been praying never made it to this world. Cyn.

Instinct surged through Doll’s circuits. She stepped back, her hand raised, ready to summon the power within her. The red holographic glyph of the Solver flickered into existence at her fingertips. But instead of the expected attack, Cyn’s reaction caught Doll off guard.

Cyn didn’t launch at her with violence, nor did she stand to face her adversary. No, Cyn recoiled as if she’d been caught off guard. Her wide, terrified eyes locked onto Doll’s, and before Doll could process the change, Cyn scrambled backward, as if trying to escape—only to lose her balance and fall off the edge of the bed, disappearing behind it.

Doll’s heart, or whatever semblance of one she had, twisted at the sight.

A broken thing. That’s what she was looking at. A broken thing, not the monster she had expected.

Doll stepped forward, cautiously this time, the glyph at her fingers dissipating as she lowered her hand. She bent down slightly to peer around the edge of the bed. The figure on the floor—Cyn—was curled up into herself, trembling. Her body was hunched, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees, and Doll could just barely make out the sound of ragged breathing.

The Solver drone's instincts faltered for a moment as confusion surged. This was... not what she had expected.

"What's wrong with you?" Doll muttered under her breath, the words more to herself than to Cyn, but the fear in Cyn’s eyes when she looked up spoke volumes.

Doll’s processors struggled to reconcile what she was seeing. This wasn’t the Cyn she had known—the Cyn who had slaughtered without hesitation, who had broken Doll’s own visor without a shred of remorse. No, this Cyn sat trembling against the wall, her vents whirring unevenly as she tried to make herself as small as possible. Doll just stood there, her crimson optics flickering in uncertainty.

She took another step forward, and Cyn reacted as though she had been struck. Her whole frame tensed, her hands gripping the fabric of her dress so tightly it might tear.

Doll stiffened. This was Cyn—the Absolute End, the Void, the thing that haunted the darkest depths of her memory. And yet…

Now, she was little more than an abused puppy.

Doll felt a strange sensation creep up her spine, something unfamiliar and uncomfortable. Pity. It was ridiculous, wasn’t it? To feel pity for something that had once terrorized her? And yet, she couldn’t shake the image before her—the way Cyn’s entire form was shaking, her wide, terrified optics darting between Doll and the door like a trapped animal searching for an escape.

Doll sighed and rolled her optics. “Okay, seriously, what happened to you?” she muttered, more annoyed than anything else.

Cyn flinched, pressing herself harder against the wall, as if she expected Doll to lash out at her.

Doll hesitated before crouching slightly, lowering herself to Cyn’s level but keeping a reasonable distance. She didn’t let her expression soften, but her voice, when she spoke again, was quieter.

“Look, if you think I’m gonna just start tearing into you, I’d have done it already,” she said. “But you’re not exactly putting up a fight, are you?”

Cyn didn’t answer. She just stared at Doll with wide, fearful optics, her vents still hitching unevenly.

Doll frowned. What in the world had happened to her?

Doll’s core stuttered in her chest.

That voice. That broken, desperate plea. It didn’t belong to a monster, to the creature she had built up in her mind—the Cyn who had shattered everything she touched. No, this voice was small. Fragile. Terrified.

“P-please… don’t hurt me…” Cyn whimpered, pressing further against the wall as if she could disappear into it. Her optics darted between Doll and the door, flickering with a silent, primal fear.

Doll didn’t move. She couldn’t.

Did Cyn really think she was going to hurt her?

“I-it wasn’t me… p-please… I-I never…” Cyn’s words trailed off into a soft, shaking whimper. She curled in on herself, arms wrapping tightly around her own frame like she was trying to hold herself together.

Doll’s optics narrowed. This wasn’t some kind of trick. It couldn’t be. Every fiber of Cyn’s being radiated pure, unfiltered terror.

Doll took a slow step forward. Cyn flinched so hard she smacked her head against the wall behind her with a dull thud. She let out a tiny, barely-audible whimper and squeezed her optics shut, as if bracing for a blow that never came.

Doll clenched her jaw. She had hated Cyn. Hated her more than anything. But this? This wasn’t something to hate. This was something… broken. Something shattered.

Her fingers twitched.

She could walk away. She should walk away.

And yet, her voice came out softer than she intended.

“…Then who was it?”

Cyn barely opened her optics, peering up at Doll like a frightened child.

“I-it…” Her voice hitched, static creeping into her words. “It wasn’t me… It was her…”

Doll’s optics flickered.

Her?

Before Doll could form a response, the heavy door creaked open behind her, casting a long shadow across the dimly lit room. The air shifted, the weight of an unseen authority settling over them. A quiet yet commanding voice cut through the silence.

“Cyn… what’s going on in here?”

Doll turned sharply, her optics narrowing as she took in the woman who had spoken. Dressed in regal black, exuding an air of composed authority, the Queen herself stepped forward. Just behind her, half-hidden in the doorway, stood Tessa, Ciel… and, of course, Sebastian.

Doll opened her mouth to speak, but before she could even attempt an excuse, Ciel shot her a look—one that left no room for argument. She snapped her jaw shut.

The Queen, ever graceful, stepped forward, gently nudging Doll aside without so much as a glance. She moved with the kind of assurance that came from ruling a kingdom, from knowing that her presence alone dictated the room.

She knelt beside the trembling, cowering worker drone and, without hesitation, lifted Cyn into her arms.

Cyn didn’t resist. If anything, she melted into the embrace, clinging to Queen Victoria as if she were the only solid thing in a world that constantly sought to break her. The way her shaking frame buried itself against the Queen’s chest, the quiet, hiccuping static of her breath—Doll had seen a lot of things, but she had never, never, seen this.

Tessa shifted uncomfortably in the doorway, and Doll didn’t blame her.

Back in their world, Cyn had worn Tessa like a cheap Halloween costume.

Doll’s fingers twitched at her sides, but she said nothing.

Sebastian, standing just behind Ciel, let a slow, knowing smile curl at the corners of his lips. “It would seem,” he mused, “that our guest has… quite the complicated history.”

Doll clenched her jaw but didn’t reply.

Because, for once, she didn’t have an answer.

The Queen turned without hesitation, her movements fluid and deliberate as she carried Cyn from the room. She whispered something—soft, soothing words meant only for the trembling worker drone in her arms. Whatever she said, it seemed to have an effect, as Cyn clung to her even tighter, her static-laced breaths uneven but slowing.

Doll remained frozen in place, her optics locked on the doorway even after the Queen had disappeared beyond it.

Which left her alone. With Ciel. And Tessa.

She had faced horrors before—things that most beings couldn’t even comprehend—but something about the weight of Ciel’s gaze made her shift uncomfortably. The young earl said nothing at first, simply regarding her with that deadpan expression that concealed whatever thoughts ran beneath the surface.

Tessa, on the other hand, looked deeply unsettled.

But Doll’s mind was elsewhere.

Back in her world, she’d been forced to sit through lessons, mundane human studies that she’d thought would never be useful to her. And yet, something surfaced now from those teachings—something she wished she didn’t recognize.

She had been taught how to identify signs of abuse.

Physical. Mental. Emotional.

And Cyn exuded all three.

The way she flinched at even the smallest movements, her whole body primed for a blow that never came. The way her wide, broken optics darted around like she expected something—someone—to rip her apart at any second. The way she could barely keep herself from crying, voice trembling as she tried to make herself as small as possible.

Doll had spent so long thinking of Cyn as a monster, a demon, the AbsoluteSolver incarnate.

But what she had just seen wasn’t a monster.

It was something that had been broken. Torn apart and left in pieces, too afraid to even lift its head.

Doll tightened her fingers into fists.

She didn’t know what to do with that realization.

Chapter 8: The Real Me…

The Queen’s steps were purposeful yet unhurried, each movement precise as she cradled the trembling worker drone in her arms. Cyn shook like a leaf, her small frame quivering violently, and yet her grip remained ironclad—refusing to let go. Victoria, ever composed, adjusted her hold to better support her, mindful of how alarmingly light she was. The Queen had carried fragile things before—porcelain dolls, injured animals, grieving children—but Cyn was different. She was neither human nor truly a child, and yet, in this moment, she may as well have been both.

Victoria’s gaze softened as she took in the sight of the drone curled against her. Earlier that day, she had coaxed Cyn into something resembling calmness, gently convincing her that she was safe within the palace walls. But now? That fragile sense of security had shattered completely. Cyn had regressed into a state of pure terror, her synthetic fingers digging into the fabric of Victoria’s gown as though letting go would mean the end of her.

A quiet sigh left the Queen’s lips as she continued down the dimly lit corridor, her grip firm yet reassuring. This was not a simple matter of nerves—this was trauma, deep and unresolved. And what disturbed Victoria most was the sheer depth of it. What could have possibly been done to her to reduce her to this?

She made a silent vow then and there: No matter what Cyn had been before, no matter what others whispered about her, she would protect this lost, broken soul.

“Ash,” she murmured, her voice quiet yet firm.

As if summoned from the very shadows, her butler materialized at her side, bowing with practiced elegance. “Yes, Your Majesty?”

Victoria exhaled softly, pausing in her step to face him. Though her composure never wavered, there was a subtle weight behind her eyes—concern carefully concealed beneath royal grace.

“Inform Ciel, Tessa, and her companions that they are permitted to stay overnight in the palace. Our meeting will have to continue into tomorrow,” she said, her tone measured but tinged with quiet resolve. “I fear I will not be able to settle Cyn within a timely manner.”

Ash’s gaze flickered briefly toward the trembling drone in the Queen’s arms. Though his expression remained unreadable, there was a knowing glint in his eyes—he understood. With a slight incline of his head, he straightened, smoothing out the pristine white of his coat.

“As you wish, Your Majesty,” he replied smoothly before turning on his heel, his footsteps silent as he strode away to fulfill her command.

Victoria watched him disappear down the corridor before shifting her attention back to the fragile being in her embrace. Cyn had hardly reacted to the exchange, her shaking still violent, her grip still vice-like. The Queen held her closer, resuming her slow, measured steps.

Time was not the issue. If it took all night to convince Cyn that she was safe, then so be it.

Once in her chambers, Queen Victoria gingerly lowered herself onto the edge of a high-backed chair, its ornate carvings curling like ivy along the wood—regal, sharp, and steeped in centuries of silent judgment. The room, hidden deep within the palace walls, was a sanctuary she rarely shared. It was not often she opened its doors, but tonight, it served a new purpose. A haven. A last refuge for the shivering creature curled into her arms.

Cyn's trembling had not ceased. If anything, it had grown worse. The worker drone clung to the Queen like a shipwrecked soul to driftwood, her fingers digging into the velvet of Victoria’s gown with the desperation of someone who feared she would be torn away at any moment.

Victoria’s hand, gloved in satin, moved with slow precision through Cyn’s synthetic hair, gently carding through artificial strands as though they were spun silk. It was a soothing motion—maternal in a way the Queen hadn’t needed to be in years. And yet, there was something instinctive about it. Cyn didn’t need a ruler. She needed a lifeline.

“It’s all right,” Victoria whispered, her voice as soft as snowfall, pitched for Cyn’s audio receptors. “No one will harm you here… no more shadows, no more commands.” But the trembling did not stop. If anything, Cyn only held tighter, as though afraid that loosening her grip would send her hurtling back into the dark.

Cyn's eyes remained wide, frantic. Not the glassy optics of a mindless drone—but something fractured. Haunted. She hid her face against Victoria’s chest as if the act might erase her existence, or at least the part of it that remembered too much. Her fear lingered in the air like a cold fog, thick enough to taste.

Victoria exhaled quietly, her heart aching for the terrified soul in her arms. Cyn had once been described to her as a harbinger of ruin. A force, not a person. Now, she was barely more than a whisper—something cracked and fragile, clinging to the last thing in the world that didn’t look at her like a weapon.

“There’s no one here to hurt you,” she murmured again. “You’re safe now. I won’t let them take you.”

“I-It wasn’t me…” Cyn whimpered into the Queen’s gown, her voice so small it nearly vanished into the velvet folds.

Victoria paused, the whisper catching her off guard. Her arms tightened instinctively, protective.

Another silence fell—thicker than the last.

Gently, she nudged Cyn. “Whatever it is, say it. You are safe.”

A stuttering breath escaped Cyn’s vents. Her voice returned, broken and halting. “I-it... it made me d-do all of it…”

Victoria’s gaze softened further, though her mind sharpened like a blade. It. The Queen’s thoughts spun, a thousand unspeakable possibilities conjured behind her composed mask. A controlling force? Another automaton? Something… other? Whatever it was, it had hollowed this girl out like a crypt and left her with nothing but ghosts in her circuitry.

“I see,” Victoria murmured at last, though she did not—not yet. But she would. She had no intention of letting this mystery stay buried.

She brushed a strand of hair from Cyn’s cheek, then turned her head toward the heavy doors. Her voice didn’t rise in volume, but it rang with the quiet command of royalty. “Bring Miss Elliot and her robotic companions here.”

Before the air could settle, Ash was already in the doorway. Of course he was. The devil never needed to knock.

He bowed low, the hem of his white coat brushing the door. His eyes gleamed like glass, his smirk poised somewhere between indulgence and theatrical disdain.

“As you wish, Your Majesty,” he purred, vanishing from the doorway like a breath of shadow.

Victoria didn’t watch him go. Her attention remained locked on Cyn. Whatever had been done to this drone had left scars too deep for soldering. But Victoria knew something of scars. She wore her own beneath the surface, pressed flat by time and responsibility.

This one, though… this one she might be able to save.

Elsewhere in the palace…

The heavy silence of the parlor was broken only by the faint clicks of hair pins and the soft rustle of ribbon.

Tessa sat behind J on a plush ottoman, carefully redoing the twin ponytails she’d come to know as part of J’s signature scowl. The disassembly drone sat still, uncharacteristically quiet, while Tessa worked in patient, soothing rhythm. Each brushstroke, each knot tied in silk, was a reminder of familiarity. Control. Something that hadn’t unraveled.

“There. Hair’s all better,” Tessa said with a proud grin, looping the last bow in place before wrapping her arms around J’s waist from behind. Her chin came to rest on J’s shoulder, her body melting into the contact.

But J didn’t respond. Not at first.

Her optics were distant, the faint glow behind them dim and unfocused. Somewhere deep in the hardware, her thoughts ran like static—violent, distorted, repeating images and sounds she couldn’t shut off.

“Jaybird?” Tessa whispered gently, giving her a small squeeze.

Finally, J blinked and leaned her head into Tessa’s. “Yeah… Tess?”

Her voice was low. Uncertain. It was clear she’d been far away just moments before, and hadn’t fully come back.

Tessa didn’t press. She just held her tighter.

In the hallway, Ash’s footsteps echoed faintly toward them.

And as always, where Ash walked, trouble followed with elegance and gloves.

“Pardon the intrusion,” came a voice like silk drawn across a blade, “but Her Majesty has requested the presence of Miss Elliot, Miss J, and Miss Doll.” Ash’s footsteps were nearly soundless against the marble floor, yet his presence filled the room like a looming shadow. He adjusted the cuff of his pristine ivory suit with clinical precision, the white almost too immaculate—as if stained things dared not touch him. “Where, might I ask, is your third metallic companion?”

Tessa turned, her arms still loosely wrapped around J. “I’m… not sure where Doll is,” she admitted, her tone quiet, brow furrowed.

At the mention of the name, J’s posture stiffened, just for a moment. A flicker of tension ran through her frame like a ghost passing through a wire. But she masked it well. Her hand moved subtly to rest atop Tessa’s, a grounding gesture, a silent message: not now.

Ash’s expression didn’t shift, though something in his eyes sharpened—an unspoken calculation dancing behind the amused facade. “How unfortunate,” he murmured. “I’m sure we’ll find her eventually. Broken things do have a tendency to wander.”

Across the room, half in the shadow of a column and still as death, stood Sebastian.

He’d been told by Ciel to observe—to report anything... out of place. And he had. The way J’s eyes flicked when Doll’s name came up. The hesitance in Tessa’s voice. All of it filed neatly away like names in a ledger.

Yet, he remained where he was, choosing—for now—to simply watch.

“You’ve taken quite an interest in them, haven’t you?” Ash asked casually, eyes never leaving Tessa and J, though his words floated toward the butler with lazy precision.

Sebastian gave the faintest hint of a smile. “It’s difficult not to. The scent of secrets clings to them so sweetly.”

J’s optics narrowed, but she said nothing. Tessa, however, bristled. “They’re not animals to be tracked. They're people.”

Ash tilted his head ever so slightly, his own smile flickering to life like a candlewick catching flame. “Oh, my dear Miss Elliot. That’s exactly what makes them worth watching.”

A beat of silence. Thick. Charged.

Then Ash stepped aside with a graceful flourish, motioning toward the corridor. “Shall we?”

The corridors of Buckingham Palace echoed with an old and watchful silence. Even the light filtering through the stained glass windows seemed hesitant to touch the group as they passed—Tessa, J, and their polished escort cloaked in unease. Every step felt longer than the last, and though J walked like a machine built for war, her gaze flicked with calculated alertness down each hall.

They were being led to something. Or someone.

The chamber doors opened not with fanfare but with the weighty groan of old wood steeped in too many secrets. Inside, the air was heavy with perfume and stillness. Ornate bookshelves lined the walls, and golden candlelight flickered across oil paintings of long-dead monarchs.

And in the center of it all sat Queen Victoria.

She looked as if she had not moved since Ash left. One hand rested upon the armrest like a monarch sculpted from patience and sorrow. The other cradled something fragile against her chest.

Cyn.

The trembling worker drone clung to Queen Victoria like a fraying lifeline, her small frame shaking as if hell itself were nipping at her heels. Metal fingers dug into silk and lace, and though Cyn made no sound, the static edge of her terror hung thick in the air.

Victoria’s hand moved in slow, steady passes through the artificial strands atop Cyn’s head. Soothing. Rhythmic. An imitation of comfort from a woman who’d had to learn it secondhand.

“Now then…” the Queen said, voice composed and honeyed, though sharpened slightly at the edges. “Where is the third?”

Her tone was mild, but it carried the weight of expectation—the kind that left no room for vagueness.

Ash bowed with his usual theatrical grace, one hand behind his back, the other smoothing down the crisp white sleeve of his jacket. “Regrettably, Your Majesty, Miss Doll is unaccounted for.” He straightened, smile sly. “Though I imagine Sebastian has handled the matter in his usual... thorough fashion.”

As if summoned by name—though more likely just excellent timing—Sebastian stepped into the chamber with the fluid elegance of a predator on a ballroom floor. His gloved hand held Doll aloft by the back of her collar, her legs swinging slightly above the polished floor like an unruly kitten freshly plucked from a crime scene.

“Отпусти меня, демон с алыми глазами!” Doll hissed in Russian, thrashing like she might actually land a hit.

Sebastian’s smile widened just enough to qualify as amused. “How charming,” he said, unfazed. “It’s been quite some time since anyone called me a red-eyed demon in earnest. Nostalgic, really.”

Doll twisted, kicking uselessly in the air. “I mean it! Drop me, you smug blood-sucking butler knockoff!”

“Careful,” Ash said with a lilt of mischief, “that smug knockoff is older than most empires.”

Sebastian’s eyes didn’t leave the Queen. “Where shall I place her, Your Majesty?”

Victoria regarded Doll coolly, her hand never ceasing its slow strokes through Cyn’s trembling hair. “Set her down, if you please. I’d rather not discuss these matters with someone dangling like a poultry carcass in a butcher’s window.”

Sebastian obeyed, placing Doll on her feet with theatrical delicacy, as though returning a wayward chess piece to the board.

Doll immediately dusted herself off, shooting him a venomous glare. “Touch me again and I’ll weld your pretty gloves to your face.”

“I look forward to it,” Sebastian murmured smoothly.

“Enough,” Victoria said, her voice silencing the air like a guillotine’s drop. “Now that all parties are assembled… we will begin.”

Cyn didn’t lift her head. Her voice was muffled, small and barely coherent, but it cut through the room like a rusted blade.

“It’s still out there,” she whispered. “It’s waiting. ”

A silence fell across the chamber. Not the polite kind, but the brittle quiet of something unseen scratching at the edges of the world.

J said nothing.

Doll’s sneer faltered.

Tessa moved closer to Cyn on instinct, but the Queen tightened her hold—gentle, yet firm.

Outside, the wind howled against the palace walls, rattling glass like bones in a velvet-lined coffin.

Chapter 9: Old Purpose

Tessa sighed quietly, her gloved fingers gently combing through Cyn’s tangled silver hair. Even when Cyn flinched beneath her touch, Tessa didn’t stop. She simply softened her strokes, murmuring something soothing under her breath that even the Queen couldn’t quite make out.

“It’s alright now,” Queen Victoria whispered, her voice as soft as velvet and as firm as the crown she wore. She held Cyn closer, as if the fragile drone might shatter from the wrong gust of wind. “You are safe.”

Ash stood silently nearby, his posture relaxed but his pale eyes keen, ever watchful. He had not moved nor spoken in some time, but there was always the sense that he was one breath away from stepping in—either as a butler or as something far more dangerous.

Per Her Majesty’s decree, Tessa, J, Doll, and the broken shell of Cyn now resided within Buckingham Palace. The halls, once echoing with royal formality, had grown quieter in their presence—like the building itself sensed the otherworldly weight they carried. With the Phantomhive Earl and his loyal butler returned to their estate, the palace’s burdens had shifted.

Tessa sat close, watching as Cyn burrowed her face deeper into the folds of Victoria’s dark gown, trembling with each distant thunderclap from the brewing summer storm outside.

“She wasn’t always like this,” Tessa murmured, her voice distant, laced with both memory and mourning. “Back in our world, she was—well—she was terrifying. Controlled. A bloody force of nature. Not like this… not this .”

Victoria glanced at her sidelong, her expression unreadable. “People—and machines, it seems—are often made monsters by what is done to them. Not what they were meant to be.”

Cyn whimpered faintly in response, as if her broken soul understood the words, and curled herself tighter in the Queen’s lap.

Ash finally spoke, voice low and pleasant as ever. “Her tremors have decreased since your arrival, Miss Elliot. She trusts you… or at least, she fears you less.”

“I’m not sure if that’s better or worse,” Tessa muttered.

“I imagine it’s the first stone in a very long road,” Ash replied, adjusting his cufflinks with that ever-smirking calm.

Victoria gave a slow nod. “Indeed. And if she is to remain here, we must understand what she is truly fleeing from. Whatever force twisted her into something feared even by her own kind… it must not follow her into this world.”

Lightning flashed through the window, illuminating the ornate chamber in stark silver. Cyn whimpered again, her voice breaking into a whisper none could fully make out.

Tessa leaned in closer. “What was that, Cyn?”

“…it still hears me,” Cyn breathed, barely audible. “It’s… still out there.”

The Queen’s gaze turned sharp.

Ash’s smile deepened.

And Tessa went pale.

The heavy door creaked open, and J stepped through first, her boots silent against the polished floor. Doll followed close behind, her arms crossed and gaze flicking cautiously between the room’s occupants. In J’s hands balanced a silver tray—not elegant, but efficient—with a modest array of scones, finger sandwiches, and two glasses of water. Steam still curled faintly from the food, a quiet testament to the time she’d taken to prepare it properly.

“It’s not much,” J said, her tone stiff but not unfriendly. “Figured this should be decent enough for you both.” She moved over to the Queen and lowered the tray onto a nearby table with careful precision.

Ash, who had been standing unobtrusively near the mantelpiece, took a single step forward, his gloved hand resting over his chest. “It would be wise to address Her Majesty properly,” he remarked, tone light but edged with propriety.

Victoria lifted a hand, halting him before the reprimand could go further. “That will do, Ash. They've all endured more than I can yet comprehend. Let them breathe without the weight of our etiquette—for now.”

Ash inclined his head in acknowledgment, though his gaze lingered on J, studying her with the same curiosity one might afford an unfamiliar chess piece.

“Fascinating,” he mused, eyes narrowing slightly. “Your manners are rather precise. A paradox, considering your... intended function. Is this deference an unexpected programming quirk, or was pandering to your mistress built in as a secondary feature?”

J’s yellow optics flicked toward him sharply. A warning glint flashed across them before she turned away with a grunt and dropped herself into a nearby chair with more weight than grace. The movement lacked elegance, but it was very J —controlled, but fraying at the edges.

“I wasn’t always a disassembly drone,” she muttered, her voice quieter now. “I was a worker drone, once. Domestic. I cleaned. I made meals. I—” she paused, her gaze falling to the steam curling from the teacups, “—I raised Tessa because her parents couldn’t be bothered to.”

Tessa, seated near the hearth with Cyn nestled against her, blinked slowly at J’s words. She reached up, brushing a hand through Cyn’s hair again—habitual now, comforting for both of them.

“She’s not wrong,” Tessa added, her accent thickening with the emotion in her throat. “J’s the reason I didn’t turn out like a bloody mess of trauma and Daddy issues. Or, well, worse than I already am.”

Victoria gave a soft, knowing smile, resting her chin delicately against her knuckles as she regarded them all.

“A soldier who became a guardian,” she murmured. “Curious… but perhaps fitting. Those forged in violence often understand the value of peace more keenly.”

Cyn shifted slightly, as if reacting to the tone more than the words. She curled further into Tessa’s lap, trembling fingers clinging to the fabric of her borrowed gown. Doll, still standing, cast a glance toward her—less hostile now, more conflicted.

“Do we even know which version of her this is?” Doll muttered, folding her arms. “We’ve all seen what she was capable of. And now she’s... this.”

“No, we don’t,” Tessa said, voice low. “But she’s not the thing that wore me like a skin suit. That one’s gone. This Cyn… this one's what's left after the Solver chewed her up and spat her out.”

Ash’s lips twitched into something that might’ve been a smirk, but his eyes were grave.

“Then the matter becomes one of time. Whether she remains this creature of shattered glass—or becomes sharp enough to cut again.”

There was a long silence, broken only by the ticking of the ornate grandfather clock in the corner. Then, softly, Cyn whispered into Tessa’s coat.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone…”

“You won’t, mate,” Tessa replied gently, her voice barely above a breath. “You’ve got me. You’ve got J. And the Queen herself. We’re not gonna let that thing take you again.”

Victoria’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Then we must find a way to ensure it can’t. ”

Elsewhere, in the stillness of the Phantomhive estate, thunder rolled in the distance, its muffled growl echoing through the tall windows of Ciel’s study. The boy sat unmoving, his expression unreadable as he stared at an open book laid before him. His gaze did not flicker to the page—it was clear he had not turned it in some time.

Beyond the study doors, chaos reigned.

“Blast it all—where did I put that polish!?” Bardroy barked, upending a cabinet with reckless urgency.

“I-I could’ve sworn the broom was right here!” Meyrin squeaked, nearly tripping over Finnian’s outstretched leg as she rifled through the cleaning closet.

“Miss Meyrin, please!” Finnian groaned, arms full of dusters, buckets, and what might have once been a mop. “If we don’t finish before Mister Sebastian returns, he’s going to—”

A click.

The front door creaked open with a grace that made no sound, and yet every servant froze as though a gunshot had gone off.

Then came the unmistakable tap... tap... tap of polished heels upon marble.

Meyrin dropped a vase.

Finnian audibly whimpered.

And Bardroy, war veteran though he was, quietly whispered a curse and stood at attention, dust rag still hanging from his belt.

The footsteps stopped just at the threshold of the entrance hall.

“My, my,” came Sebastian’s smooth, silken voice. “I was gone for precisely six minutes. Impressive, in its own way, how much disarray can be accomplished in so little time.”

He stepped forward into view, the storm behind him casting his silhouette in stark relief. His eyes—bright crimson, unnatural—glowed faintly in the low light of the vestibule.

Meyrin attempted a curtsy but nearly toppled backward. “M-Mr. Sebastian, I—I was just—”

Sebastian’s gloved hand moved faster than sight.

The broom appeared in his grasp.

“You were searching for this?” he asked gently, offering it with the kind of smile that did not reach his eyes. The kind of smile that made people nervous. Very nervous.

Meyrin nodded frantically, snatching it from his hand as though it might vanish.

“Lovely,” Sebastian said, brushing a speck of dust from his coat sleeve. “Now then… kindly resume your duties before I must remind you all why I am the one trusted with the knives in this household.”

The servants scattered like startled birds.

Satisfied, Sebastian continued down the corridor toward the study. He paused outside the door, glancing toward the thunderclouds gathering beyond the arched windows.

Something lingered in the air. Foreign. Disrupted.

He opened the study door with his usual eerie silence. Ciel didn’t look up.

“I trust the errand was handled?” the boy asked, still not turning from his book.

Sebastian stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

“Yes, my lord. The parcel has been delivered. And our… unusual guests at Buckingham Palace have not set anything ablaze. Yet. ”

Ciel turned the page at last.

“Good. I’ll need them stable if I’m to pry anything useful out of that girl. Miss Elliot isn’t the type to trust easily.”

Sebastian inclined his head. “Naturally. Shall I prepare for the possibility of our involvement extending beyond the original timeframe?”

“You may assume so.” Ciel’s eyes narrowed. “If whatever infected that worker drone comes crawling into our world, I want to know before it takes root.”

A beat passed. Then Sebastian spoke again, quieter.

“I have seen what it does, young master. The thing she calls the Solver. It does not infect… It rewrites. ”

Ciel finally looked up. “Then we’ll burn it before it tries.”

Sebastian smiled once more.

“Of course. As ever… I am simply one hell of a butler.”

Meanwhile, in the dim hush of the approaching storm, Finnian had wandered into the garden with a determined frown. Earlier that afternoon, he'd left a small arsenal of gardening tools strewn about in his usual flurry of enthusiasm. Now, with clouds roiling like ink in the sky, it struck him as prudent to retrieve them before Sebastian noticed—or worse, before Sebastian commented.

But as he began to scour the damp hedgerows and gravel paths, he found not a single spade, trowel, or rake in sight.

“Strange,” he murmured, scratching the back of his head. “Did Mr. Sebastian already tidy them away?”

His musings were cut short by a soft metallic snip. A crisp, rhythmic clipping—garden shears, by the sound of it.

Curiosity overtook caution as Finnian crept around a hedge.

Then he saw her.

A girl.

Not human, and not quite like any automaton he'd ever seen in the manor. Her arms gleamed with silver filigree beneath the sleeves of a pristinely kept maid’s uniform, her fingers porcelain white and unnervingly still between each cut. Pale silver hair framed her face in a symmetrical bob, and across her eyes stretched a sleek pane of black glass—like a visor. Behind it, glowing opalescent optics shimmered softly, blinking with something that might have been… hesitation.

She moved with elegant precision, the way a doll might mimic grace. Every motion was purposeful, and yet somehow delicate. Almost… shy.

Finnian took a cautious step forward, boots crunching gently on gravel.

“Miss?” he asked, voice rising over the hush of the coming rain.

The girl turned at once, her silver hair shifting with the movement. The soft mechanical whir of servos accompanied her as the visor across her face flickered faintly, adjusting to the dim garden light.

“Oh—!” she gasped, startled, and instinctively lowered the garden shears to the ground with exaggerated care. Her porcelain hands folded neatly in front of her skirt like a student before a headmistress.

“I-I didn’t know the Elliots had begun employing landscapers…” she said, voice quiet and uneven. Despite the smoothness of her programming, the uncertainty in her tone felt real. Too real.

She dipped into a small bow, stiff but well-meaning, her optics flickering faintly behind the black glass. “I’m Serial Designation V. But… you can call me V.”

Finnian blinked at her, equal parts awe and confusion in his wide green eyes.

“I’m Finnian. Gardener for Lord Phantomhive’s estate.” He offered a warm smile as he stepped closer, boots crunching softly on the gravel. “You, uh… work for Miss Elliot, then?”

V nodded sheepishly, her hands twitching nervously as they smoothed her apron.

“Y-yes… I think so. Wait—who’s Lord Phantomhive?” she asked, tilting her head with a faint click of her neck servos.

Before Finnian could utter so much as a syllable, a chill sliced through the air like the edge of a blade.

The garden dimmed as if the very world were holding its breath.

Sebastian.

“Finnian,” came the butler’s voice, calm as still water and just as cold. “I do not recall authorising additional assistance in the garden.”

V stiffened instantly, head bowing, eyes locked on the muddy tips of her shoes. She didn’t move. She barely breathed.

“I-I didn’t bring her here!” Finnian stammered, visibly shrinking under the weight of Sebastian’s gaze. “She was just—she said she was helping and—”

“That will be all,” Sebastian said smoothly, raising a gloved hand. The gesture was gentle. The meaning behind it, absolute.

He turned his attention to the girl fully now, eyes narrowing as he studied the silver-limbed anomaly before him. There was no malice in his gaze—only calculation. Clinical. Inevitable.

“Ah,” he murmured, a cruel smile tugging at his lips. “You’re one of those machines Miss Elliot collects. How quaint.”

V flinched but didn’t raise her head. The air grew heavier around her, like a vice closing in.

“I didn’t mean any harm,” she whispered, her voice tight. “I was just cleaning up. The tools were out, and I thought…”

Sebastian’s smile widened just a fraction. “Thoughtfulness. A rare trait in your kind. Or perhaps a clever mimicry. Still, one must wonder…”

He took a step forward. V did not retreat, but her fingers curled into her palms.

“…Are you here to serve, Miss V?” he asked, his voice dangerously low, “or simply waiting for the moment when you no longer feel the need to pretend?”

The silence stretched like piano wire.

“I’m not pretending,” V said quietly, eyes finally rising to meet his.

For a moment, Sebastian simply stared. His crimson eyes, half-lidded and gleaming with quiet malice, studied the trembling figure of the drone like a chess player examining a poorly placed piece on the board. Then, with the faintest, almost imperceptible twitch of his coattails, he turned away.

“Return to Buckingham Palace,” he said, voice as smooth and sharp as cut glass. “Her Majesty prefers her curiosities remain in one place. Do try not to impale anyone along the way.”

There was a beat of silence before V squeaked out a small, panicked reply.

“W-wait… I can’t… that’s all the way in Britain,” she mumbled, wringing her fingers together, her voice quiet and apologetic—as though geography itself had wronged her.

Sebastian paused mid-stride, his polished shoes glinting in the lamplight as he slowly turned his head to glance back. That smile returned—sharp as a knife and cool as marble, an expression of elegance wrapped around something quietly predatory.

“Then it is most fortunate,” he murmured silkily, “that you are, in fact, already in Britain.”

V blinked. Once. Twice. Her optics flickered faintly, as though some internal processor had begun to overheat.

“I—I’m in… Britain?” she echoed, her voice trembling like a corrupted audio file. She hugged herself instinctively, silver arms drawing close, and her boots shifted in the dirt as if trying to escape the truth beneath them. “H-how…? The Elliots live in Sydney. That’s… that’s Australia.”

Finnian, still hovering nearby with his usual sheepish energy, scratched the back of his head and offered her a small, helpless smile.

“Yeah, uh… there's a lot to explain. Bit of a time and space problem, I think. Happens more often than you'd believe around here. But don’t worry, Miss V—let’s get you inside and sorted, yeah? You look like you’ve taken a tumble through a chimney.”

V glanced down at herself, visibly horrified. Her once-spotless maid uniform was now a disaster: frills muddied, lace torn, and a small bundle of soggy leaves clung stubbornly to her elbow joint like shameful accessories. She let out a strangled gasp, her visor lighting up with glowing blush lines that bloomed like twin warnings of social death.

“Oh no no no—this is not first-impression material!” she whispered in a panicked hush, frantically picking at the leaves. “I-I look like I lost a fight with a hedge and then got mugged by autumn!”

Finnian chuckled nervously, though he took a small step back as Sebastian’s presence loomed closer.

“Mister Sebastian,” he said, voice wavering slightly under the weight of the demon’s gaze. “Perhaps we should clean her up before bringing her to Her Majesty? She… probably wouldn’t appreciate mud on the carpets.”

Sebastian regarded him in silence for a moment, like a teacher judging a particularly slow pupil. Then, with a single nod, he relented.

“Very well. Take her inside. Avoid the carpeted halls and the drawing room. See that she is presentable by morning. The Queen is… particular about appearances.”

“Yes, sir!” Finnian said with a quick bow, then turned to V. “Come on, Miss V. Let’s get you scrubbed up before you start leaking more embarrassment.”

V gave a tiny squeak in response, then nodded, following like a scolded kitten.

As she passed by Sebastian, she bowed her head low, her optics wide and wary beneath the glass of her visor. “Th-thank you, Mister Sebastian…”

He inclined his head in the barest gesture of acknowledgment. “Do try not to misplace your limbs before breakfast. I detest having to retrieve body parts from the rose garden.”

V paled—if a machine could—and immediately tucked her arms close, as if afraid one might fall off just from his tone alone.

And so, with all the grace of a malfunctioning tea tray, Serial Designation V shuffled after Finnian—filthy, mortified, and completely out of her element—leaving behind the demon in the butler’s coat, whose eyes lingered on her for just a second longer than necessary.

Whatever strange little machine she was, he would ensure she did not become a threat to the Queen’s interests.

Not on his watch.

Notes:

PS I have a Discord server, it's the main hub of my YouTube page too, I make music :P
https://discord.gg/RmcjV6E9wA