Days seemed to pass by quickly as more and more dead bodies were prettied up by you (who was still learning of the way of the undertaker by the Undertaker) and the Undertaker himself.
You thought it was fun to learn about all the things that were needed for the preparation of one's funeral.
The two of you examined bodies closely, and in the past days there were many bodies that were practically torn in half. They were all slashed open just beneath their stomachs, most of which belonged to previously pregnant women. The Undertaker informed you that this was a clear sign of having been murdered by the infamous Jack the Ripper, a person who had recently gone around killing women left and right.
"But why would humans do that? I thought humans were really nice." You asked, clearly not well aware that humans can be just as evil, or if not worse, than a devil.
The two of you were currently staring at another deceased woman. Her stomach was ripped, just as the rest of them were. You didn't seem to mind the blood and organs, or the lack of them in this case, though. You were too focused on trying to stitch her stomach back together, under the instruction of the Undertaker.
"Who knows," the Undertaker replied, waving his hand in circles. "Some people are just a bit insane in the head."
"Hmm. Will they ever stop, do you think? That Jack the Ripper."
"I'm sure they will, soon."
You looked up from your stitching.
"What makes you think that?"
"The Aristocrat of Evil will catch them eventually." He told you.
Your head tilted to the side.
"Who's that?"
"Well, Ciel Phantomhive, of course!"
". . . The human in the coffin?"
The Undertaker laughed at this question, answering soon after, "No, I'm talking about the other one."
"Ah, the one with the same name? I remember now. But why would he catch them? Is he some sort of. . . Oh, what do humans call them again? The Yard! Is he a part of those? An officer?"
"Far from that. The Yard works for justice. The Phantomhive boy works under the command of her majesty. He's a good little dog, you see. He does everything she asks of him in the most evil of ways."
You continued stitching as the Undertaker spoke, commenting after that, "That Phantomhive sounds scary. I think I like the one in the coffin more."
The Undertaker placed a hand on your shoulder, reminding you to begin making a knot as you reached the end of the stitch.
"He's about your age, if I recall. And not much intimidating. He's about as scary as a little Chihuahua."
"A Chihuahua? What's that?"
"Well, a dog, of course."
"A dog! I'd forgotten dogs exist here!"
"'Here'? Do you bunch not have them up there?"
You shook your head.
"No. Dogs don't go to Heaven. They don't have souls. We have plenty of other animals, though. I used to have a cat, actually."
"How strange. How exactly can a thing live without a soul? It sounds unheard of."
"It is in Heaven, too! Nobody knows why dogs don't have them" You smiled fondly as you recalled a memory of yours, creating a knot at the same time. "I remember how the elders would tell us that they don't have souls because they're all distantly related to demon hounds. And they'd tell us that if you committed sin, a demon hound would dig his way up into Heaven and drag you down the same dark hole he came from. You wouldn't be able to cry for help, because your pleas would be covered by the screaming of the damned, the damned that beg for forgiveness and for someone to save them. No would help you either way, because if they did hear your screams, they'd know you committed a sin. And no one wants to help sinner. No one."
The Undertaker quietly listened in interest as you told this surprisingly dark folk story from Heaven.
"I've heard that humans use the monster, the Bogeyman, to scare children into obedience. Is that true?"
"It is. You tell that story to any child, and he'd be sitting nice and straight, twiddling his thumbs."
You hummed.
"Then I guess it was sort of like that in Heaven. Demon hounds are just used to scare us into being good. But I guess the only difference is that demon hounds actually exist. Well, actually, who knows? Maybe there is a God and he made demon hounds for the sole purpose of keeping us scared. Maybe demon hounds are God's bogeyman, and he uses them for how he sees fit. Maybe God made the Bogeyman specially for humans? But that couldn't possibly be true, the story, I mean, either way. Demon hounds can't get into Heaven, as far as I'm aware. I mean, I'm probably the biggest sin to have ever been in Heaven. I wasn't ever dragged down by a dog. And I'm not in Hell, either. I'm on Earth. With humans. Besides, no one is for sure if God is real. I shouldn't frame them to be a terrible person- er. . . God, I mean. I don't even know if they're real. If I spend to much time thinking about a thing that doesn't exist, I'll probably go mad. But what if they are real? Would it still be wrong to assume their bad because of a silly children's story? And what if it's not a silly story? But it has to be! Otherwise, I'd be in Hell with the rest of the sinners."
You sighed.
"Sometimes I think about how perhaps I'm not a sinner, because I didn't choose to be this way. And sometimes I think that I hate all of Heaven for doing what they did to my family and to me, but now that I think of it, maybe it's because they were still scared. Maybe that silly children's story stopped them from caring about us, from loving us. Then, I guess I can excuse what they did to me. I can understand fear. It scared me too. Heck, I remember being scared for days on end because I thought demon hounds would suddenly come for me. What I mean is, I can excuse it. . . Especially if it were true. But that brings me back to the question, what if it were true? Would it still be wrong to accuse that possible God of being terrible? Would it be wrong for me to hate God? For what he incidently did? Maybe they meant it to happen. Maybe they wanted us to suffer. . ."
The Undertaker stood behind you and raised a brow in amusement as he allowed you to rant on. Your head was filed with many creative concepts and worries, and it made the Undertaker realize that angels probably weren't so different from humans themselves. They were just as clueless as the next human. They were just as clueless as any demon or reaper.
That was rather tragic, wasn't it? To hear that Heaven wasn't much of a paradise as so much an only slightly better version of Earth. Any human who heard that would probably drop to their knees in devastation. Imagine, living a dreadful life only to enter another dreadful one. To hear that your worries would not leave you, the worry that your need for a definitive answer would not be delivered to you. Devastating, indeed. . .
"Well, I don't know!" You came to a conclusion. "I hope to see a chihuahua, though."
You finished the stitch. As you snipped any excess wire and set down your needle, you turned to face the Undertaker.
"Who's 'her majesty'? You said that the Phantomhive boy follows her command? Who is she?"
You moved on quick. Still, the Undertaker answered.
"The Queen of England." The Undertaker said, leaning against the bed the dead woman layed on with a frown. "Queen Victoria."
You grinned, taking the Undertakers hands in your own.
"You don't seem to like her all that much."
"I don't," He said flatly.
You didn't judge this answer.
"It's a bit weird how humans chose a queen. Why did they choose a queen?"
You said this in an uneducated manner. This isn't shocking. You didn't know much.
"They didn't."
You hummed curiously, bringing out the wings located on your head and placing the Undertaker's hands onto them, practically demanding he pet them. The Undertaker quietly complied.
You blinked at the information, "That's a bit weird. Then why do they need one, still? Do they like her?"
"Some do, strangely enough. However, most in the Underworld dislike her."
"Like you, you mean?" You questioned genuinely. "And what's the Underworld? Is that some way of referring to Hell?"
"In a way." He admitted, slightly distracting himself by fluffing up your wings. "It's the evil side of England; the side no one likes to talk about much. I'm from the Underworld." He added, grinning in an attempt to creep you out. He failed to.
"Is the Underworld an actual place? Or is it like a metaphor?" You queried, playing with the end of the Undertaker's strangely long hat with a deadpan.
To be honest, you weren't a big fan of metaphors. They made you think. You didn't like to think deeply about things. It seemed to ruin things for you.
"A metaphor, it is."
Your deadpan became worse.
"I'm sorry to say then, but I don't think I like where you're from much."
This conversation was unfortunately left unfinished, as the two of your heads turned at the sound of the entrance door to the shop opening with a sickening creak.
You felt the Undertaker let go of your wings, to which you put them away.
"Were we expecting someone-?"
You turned to him, only to find him gone.
Your mouth dropped from shock and you turned your head quickly to try figuring out where this reaper suddenly went off to. Was he eager to greet those at the door?
You peaked your head out the room, hearing a dreadfully bored:
"Are you in. . . Undertaker?"
You contemplated going as well to greet the guest, only to realize this was a human. That excited you.
Walking into the same room as the guest, you met eyes with a boy that was awfully familiar. It was Ciel Phantomhive, the human the Undertaker told you about. It must have been him. He looked exactly like the boy in the coffin, after all, besides the strange eye patch he wore on his right eye. Behind him were a couple of other humans, ones that you momentarily ignored for the sake of greeting the Phantomhive boy.
You offered him an incredibly bright and bashful smile.
"Oh, hello there! My name is (Y/n), the Undertaker's apprentice, and you must be Ciel Phantomhive! It's a pleasure to meet you. The Undertaker has told me some about you. Is there anything we can do for you today?" You greeted, holding your hands to your chest.
The boy's eyebrow twitched as he squinted at you. You didn't notice this, instead continuing to be as giggly and oblivious as you had always been.
Why were you so. . . bright? It was blinding. You seemed to radiate tiny stars.
Ciel nearly groaned as he used his hand to try and block out such positivity, though the others behind him, aside from one other, awed at your greeting.
". . . I am, Ciel Phantomhive. I've come to see the Undertaker, if he's here, that is."
You glanced around at the other guests before dragging on a long, "Ohhhhhh. . .", offering the boy no insight.
". . . Is he here?" He repeated, a more stern tone arising.
You weren't exactly thinking at the moment. Moreso, you were trying to process the fact that a devil stood just besides the boy.
You didn't care much that another grim reaper appeared to be hanging around the group of humans. No, you were much more occupied with staring back at the devil who's eyes dug into your skull.
The devil was a tall man with black hair and his eyes were brown and a dark tint of red. His eyes narrowed the more you looked at him, and it appeared that he already knew what you were thinking.
You didn't exactly know how he was a devil, but it was something you simply felt. Just looking at him felt as if you were staring into a bottomless pit of the darkest dark. His presence was intimidating, though his face was calm. The way he presented himself told you enough. He wasn't here for you, but if you started something, he'd have no choice but to become hostile.
It was almost as if the two of you made an agreement in silence. It was as if you told each other, "If you don't say anything about me, I won't say anything about you." But do not be mistaken, the annoyance felt was there. Perhaps it wasn't mutual yet, considering you didn't find him so much annoying than you did uncomfortable, but it was still there. The two of you hadn't even spoken yet, but the relationship was shaky.
The tension between the two of you became noticable at that point, as that sparkle around you slowly dulled. Your smile wasn't bright. The bright aura around you darkened. It was. . . Unsure. Wary. Aware.
The Phantomhive boy only glanced at the thing before calling out to him sharply.
"Sebastian."
The devil broke eye contact with you, turning to the boy.
"My lord?"
His voice was surprisingly soft. A wolf in sheep's clothing, was he?
You broke out of eye contact as well, blushing and stating, "I'm sorry. I'm. . . unsure where exactly the Undertaker went off to."
The boy turned back to you, confused.
"You're unsure?"
You nodded, retreating behind the main desk of the shop.
"I am. But as I stated before, I am his apprentice, if you wish to leave a message for him."
"An apprentice?"
"That's right."
"I wouldn't have expected someone so young to want to work for him willingly."
"I didn't expect anyone so young to want to meet with him. Though I guess he's very interesting, isn't he?" You told him, smiling to yourself. "That's probably why I'm his apprentice, now that you mention it. How peculiar!"
". . . I suppose as seeing he isn't here at the moment, we'll be off."
"No message then? Alright. It was nice meeting you, anyway! Have a safe trip back."
Ciel seemed to hold a blank face whenever he spoke. This did not change when he turned to leave, bidding you a farewell.
That was when the whole lot of you heard a dark cackle coming from just beside where the guests were located.
"That won't be necessary." The Undertaker spoke, as you recognized.
Your brows furrowed, though. What was with that sudden voice change? It was raspy and childish. It was unserious.
You didn't comment on it.
A coffin suddenly opened as the Undertaker poked his head out it, startling three of the guests, even causing the new grim reaper's knees to give out on them. They fell to the floor in fear.
"Oh." You said. "I guess he is here, then. When did you get in there?"
The Undertaker ignored your question and gave the group a large grin as he greeted the boy.
"Has ye lordship finally decided to step into the coffin that I've made specially for you?"
The boy deadpanned, as if he had to deal with this same question million of times before. Perhaps they've known each other for a while now?
"I think not. Today, I'm-!"
The Undertaker hurriedly placed a finger to the boy's mouth to silence him.
"You don't need to say it. We understand veeeery well what milord wishes to say."
You deadpanned as well.
"We do?"
The Undertaker nodded, "She wasn't a customer in the 'ordinary folk' sense of the word. See, we cleaned her up riiiight and pretty."
". . .Ohhhh, you mean her," you laughed softly, the boy glancing at you. "It was a very informative experience."
"That it was."
The boy seemed interested.
". . . I want to hear about that."
"Then let's have a chat! I'll make tea or something," the Undertaker suggested, gesturing to the coffins scattered around the shop. "Won't you just take a seat somewhere over there?"
The guests looked around, only to be greeted with coffins.
You followed behind the Undertaker as he walked out the room to assist, offering the quests a, "It's alright! They're all empty. At least some, I'm sure."
This did not comfort them.
They settled shortly enough, (which amused you greatly, seeing how Ciel Phantomhive was incidently sitting on the other Ciel Phantomhive's coffin) and the Undertaker passed around tea served in beakers, which disturbed some.
You not so much, seeing as how they watched you happily drink from one while sitting atop the front desk. Perhaps they weren't used?
No. They were.
"So you want to hear about Jack the Ripper, yessss? The Yard's starting to get their knickers in a bunch about it, now. . . " The Undertaker began, opening his jar of biscuits, offering you one. You gladly took it. "This isn't the first time we've had a customer like that."
One of the guests spoke up. A woman with red hair and a red dress and a. . . Well, red everything. You thought she looked rather nice. Red suited her well.
"Not the first time?" She asked in worry. "What do you mean?"
The Undertaker chewed on a biscuit as he replied, "In the past, there've been a number of cases involving murdered whores. But the intensity and cruelty with which they're being done in continues to escalate."
He offered the Phantomhive a biscuit, to which he somewhat politely declined.
"The Yard failed to take notice because the murders weren't terribly bloody at the outset, but all the prostitutes killed in Whitechapel had a little something in common."
You perked up, whispering to the Undertaker excitedly, "Oh, I know what they have in common!"
He only smiled at you, ruffling your hair.
"Something in common, you say?" The Phantomhive said.
The Undertaker's smile turned to a dark grin as he began playing dumb with the boy.
"Well, what could it be? What ever could it be? Wouldn't you like to know?"
One of the guests chuckled, "I see how it is. Being an undertaker is only his facade for normal society. How much do you want for the information, then?"
The Undertaker paused.
"How much. . .?"
He lunged, at the man, frightening him.
"I do not desire a single one of the Queen's coins!"
He left the poor man to shake in fear as he instead approached the Phantomhive boy.
"Now, Milord. . . Give it to me. . ."
The boy leaned away the closer the Undertaker got, nearly letting out a disturbed whine.
The Undertaker drooled at the very thought of his coming words, "BESTOY UPON ME, THE CHOICEST 'LAUGHTER'! Then, we shall tell you ANYTHING!"
The Undertaker broke into uncontrollable laughter, leaning onto the desk for support. You watched with a finger to your lip, not quite understanding what there was to laugh about, while the others watched with in distress. Though, you smiled at his apparent joy. This changed when you accidentally met eyes with the devil beside the Phantomhive boy. You gave him a smile that was more worried than anything, and that made him raise a brow.
"That creep." Muttered the Phantomhive. The devil beside him remained silent in agreement.
"Lord Earl," called the man who was lunged at, "please allow me to handle this."
He presented himself in confidence, "People have called me the sleeping tiger of new year's parties in Shang-Hai. And now I shall demonstrate that in full!"
He cleared his voice.
"A fool on the futon."
". . ."
The room stared at him in silence until you spoke up.
"Oh, I get it! Haha!" You lightly laughed, kicking your legs off the desk.
Least to say, the entire room thought 'He understood that?' simultaneously. Either way, the room was silent in response to the man's so-called joke besides the man himself, who praised you for being 'the second smartest person in the room' and called you 'such a clever boy'. You did not thank him, and instead asked:
"The second smartest? Then who'd be the first. . . ?"
Alright, perhaps you weren't such a clever boy then. . .
You heard a sigh as the red woman approached next.
"You'll never do, Lau. . . Very well. . . I, Madame Red, star of social circles, shall share with you her best tale!"
She radiated confidence. Though the crowd wasn't amused much as she began speaking about #### and ####, as well as #### and ####. You, despite not understanding a single thing she was referring to, clapped your hands lightly while laughing.
God, you're such an airhead. . .
It took about an hour for her to finish, anyway.
You asked the Undertaker quietly as Madame Red continued laughing at her own story, ". . . What's a ####? Is that some sort of human thing? It's such a silly word!"
He hummed, "No, we've got them too. Well, I'm not sure about you, but I have one."
You laughed again, quietly telling him, "Humans are so funny!"
But besides that, the two humans failed to make the Undertaker laugh.
That only left. . .
"That leaves only you, milord. . . Last time I was a bit generous if I do say so myself, but no specials this time."
"Damn," The boy cursed, before being surprised by the devil. He stood in front of him, almost as if he were fully prepared for the challenge that was sparking laughter from the Undertaker.
"Sebastian?!"
The devil tugged on his white gloves, telling the boy, "It appears there is nothing for it."
The Undertaker seemed a bit surprised too.
"Ohhhh? It's master butler's turn to take a go, now is it?"
"Everyone, please step outside if you would. And you must not, understand any condition, peak inside." He said, turning to you. "If you would so kindly step out as well."
"Uh! O-oh, okay. . ." You replied, shocked, giving the Undertaker one last glance before hopping off the desk and following behind the others.
You closed the door to the shop behind you and took a spot next to the sheepish looking grim reaper while you all waited.
While everyone waited, you discreetly tugged on their sleeve, to which they jumped in surprise.
"O-oh! Yes? Is t-there something you need?" They asked, bending closer to your eye level.
You stared into their eyes deeply and intensely, making sweat roll down their head.
Finally, you whispered to them.
"Is someone going to die or something?"
"W-what?!"
"Shush!"
"S-sorry! Why on Earth would you ask that?" They exclaimed, looking around in defense.
You tilted your head.
"Well, because you're a grim reaper. You have those nice green eyes! And you're wearing glasses. They're really nice too, by the way." You stated.
The reaper blushed, placing a hand on their cheek.
"O-oh, how sweet of you! T-thank you-" They stopped, eyes widening as their shy accent suddenly disappeared with realization.
"Eh?"
Madame Red turned to look at the both of you upon hearing them.
She questioned, "Is everything alright? Grell?"
The reaper, Grell, found themselves unable to answer. Instead, you poked your head out from behind them and answered for them.
You gave her an innocent smile, "I said they have nice eyes, is all, miss. You have lovely eyes too, by the way, and the red compliments you beautifully!"
Her face became flushed and her eyes, as Grell's had, widened. She laughed, walking to you and pinching your cheek.
"Well, you're just the sweetest thing, aren't you! Such a kind boy, and with such an adorable smile! Perhaps my nephew can learn a thing or two from you?"
"Excuse me?"
Madame Red waved her hand away at the Phantomhive as she coddled you. You assumed Ciel was her nephew.
"Oh, I'm only joking!" She grinned as she whispered to you, "No, I'm not."
You watched as Ciel sent a glare his aunt's way. You only smiled sympathetically.
Then, the entire group was startled as the shop shook in the Undertaker's booming laughter. The shop's sign nearly fell off.
The devil butler opened the entrance door.
"Please, come in. He has agreed to speak with us."
He held the door open for all to enter. Unfortunately, you were last to come in. I say unfortunately, because as soon as you walked passed the door frame, the door was slammed in your face.
You were stunned into silence.
The door opened and you were greeted by the smug grin on the devil.
"My sincerest apologies. My hand slipped a bit early." He teased with a hand to his chest. The rest of the guests stared at the two of you in confusion.
Oh, so that's how he wants it to be? That's really how he wants it to be then?
Your face was blank before contorting into possibly the brightest smile in the world, taking a gentle hold of his hands.
You giggled, "It's alright! Not ever butler is a good one."
Nearly everyone's jaws dropped suddenly at your words, with the Undertaker's cackling only getting louder.
Sebastian stood there in absolute shock, his back stiff and straight and he had to take a quick breath before putting on a smile that made no effort to look genuine.
He said nothing as you let go of his hands and continued walking behind the front desk, and it wasn't until then that he caught his young lord just barely smirking at the scene.
You didn't know it, but Ciel mentally thanked you for the humbling.
The Undertaker tried to speak in between heavy laughter, "Well. . . Back to the matter at hand. We'll tell you anything you wish to know. . . "
He took a breath to calm down.
"For a while now. . . We've occasionally had clients who are. . . How should I put it? Lacking."
"'Lacking'?" Repeated Ciel.
You nodded enthusiastically.
"That's right! They're all missing something. Something inside!"
The Undertaker held onto you as he pointed to the very bottom of your stomach as reference and clarification.
"Their innards."