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Chapter One

Sincerely, Sebastian.

My name is Sebastian Michaelis, and that will be my name for all of eternity.

The contract is sealed, with my master, Ciel Phantomhive. His soul is untouchable. Unreachable. Irresistible.
I should have had it. I craved it. But it was stolen from me.
And now the soul I so desired for years is trapped within the body of a demon. Or rather, it was destroyed when my master was reborn as a demon.
We demons simply do not have a soul. Otherwise it would exist in our bodies as a tantalizing scent. An aroma that we would never be able to escape.
It would be a torture worse than hell itself. Second only to this form of torture is that of starvation.
And that is precisely why I write this log today.

I believe I may be dying.

If I recall, I may be the first demon to be dying in a natural way, if starvation can be called natural. The only other cause of death for a demon was the sword Lævateinn.
No demon would choose to die of starvation. No demon would choose to die at all. Yet, I must be dying.

I must be.

You see, I have not eaten in nearly a century. This is because I have waited, so patiently, for the soul I desired. I watched generations of souls come and leave. I've refused many contracts.
And I patiently waited, until a desperate boy's scream melted in my ears. Beautiful.

Ciel Phantomhive. He was supposed to be the soul to save my life. The soul to satisfy. The soul to be worth waiting a century.

But now he is gone, and I am still his servant. Still bound by the contract.

Still starving.

I believe it was about a week later, when I admitted defeat. The master, still not accustomed to the fact that he did not need to sleep, was asleep late that night. I gave myself the task of finally eating.

I was desperate, you see.

And so I ran, out of our new manor. I ran to the nearest village I could find. I sensed the souls that slept there, but I did not discern or evaluate which one to choose. I acted out of instinct.

I entered a window to a cottage. There, on a bed of rags and dust, a boy unwanted by the world struggled to sleep. His soul was pitiful, equal to that of a scrap. Nothing more than a morsel.

But a morsel was all I needed. It's all I asked for.

I bent down and cupped his head in my hands. He blurrily came to his senses, but all too late.
I felt his soul, on the cusp of being spilt.

That's when it happened.

My contract seal on my right hand burned, like a hot iron. Normally, I wouldn't have been so sensitive to the pain of a thousand irons, but my lack of sustenance cost me my endurance. I screamed louder than my prey.

I clutched my hand, curling and writhing like an animal. The pain was unbearable.

Once the fire on my hand died, I stared at the mark. It was black and etched into my skin. It still simmered and smoked.

It taunted me.

It told me I can't eat.
I can't hunt anymore. The contract does not allow it.

I, Sebastian Michaelis, am dying of starvation.

Dear Reader,

Hello there. I'm the author of this story, Epica. Good to meet you. Glad to see that you like Black Butler.

How are you enjoying the story so far? I'm enjoying writing it, so I hope you are enjoying reading it. I have a little favor to ask of you. Whether you are new or a veteran here, I would really appreciate it if you left a comment or review below to tell me what you thought of this story. Don't worry, you don't have to write a novel. Just a few words that'll wake me up, you know?

Also, if you have a friend that you think may enjoy this, then be sure to share it with them! Especially if they happen to have a body pillow of our favorite butler.

If you make it to the next chapter or two, there will be more in this little letter to look forward to. But for now, since I don't want to scare you away, I'll just leave it here.

Best wishes,

Epica