Trapped in Black Butler || Sebastian X Reader

XXIII

Before leaving, the undertaker tapped you on the shoulder as the rest of the group made their way to the carriage. "How's this world been treatin' ya, dearie?"

"Oh, I'm fine, I think." You tugged at the hem of your gloves, trying to decide how you really did feel about the whole situation. For the most part, all you had been doing for the past couple of weeks was tend to your chores and sleep. Of course with the occasional strange run in with Sebastian.

Undertaker cocked his head to the side with his ever present smile, "Is there somethin' that troubles ye?"

You wondered if you should say anything, after all, was this not the same grim reaper who played a yet unknown role in the story, another sower of chaos in the young earl's life?

His gaze didn't falter, that piercing green tearing its way through the thick mop of grey, "I suppose..." you responded after a beat, looking towards the door you'd hoped to be leaving through soon.

"Consida me intrigued."

You brought your hands to the front of your dress, threading your fingers together to dig into your knuckles. "I suppose... There are some things that have been troubling me."

The reaper waved for you to continue and so you complied.

"Sebastian said something to me the other day. Something I was curious to ask another supernatural being, such as yourself, about." You pointedly left out the details of the exchange, he needn't know the actions that preceded or followed the conversation. "He said something about a curse on my soul."

At that, Undertaker hummed, back straightened in interest. "Who better t' ask about a soul than a collector of 'em, retired though I may be."

"So I figured. Apparently it's a supernatural curse and has something to do with the uhh, curse-ee having some immense hatred of me."

He nodded, in affirmation and consideration, "I 'ave 'eard of such curses. I see it now, maybe if i'd 'a looked closer I'd 'ave noticed it upon our first meetin'. I can't see it too well without me spectacles, as 'm sure y'know we reapers are quite nearsigh'ed"

Stupidly, you responded before thinking too hard, "You don't need to like, smell me or something?"

The reaper looked like he was holding in laughter as he responded through a tight jaw, "No, not person'ly. Though all bein's perceive souls differen'ly I s'pose." Embarrassing.

With hands clenched tighter you looked anywhere but at the man's face, "Okay, so what does it mean? Am I going to die?"

"With certainty, dearie." He responded eagerly.

"Because of this curse, am I going to die as a result of being cursed?"

That earned you a shrug as the reaper shook his head more in uncertainty than in absolute dismissal, "'s hard ta say. Those types 'a curses can manifest in many ways, and being that yours is of supernatural origin, it's even more up in th' air."

Maybe you should have just walked out with the rest of the group. The endeavour for clarity proved more laborious than it was worth.

It was only as you started heading for the door that the reaper decided to divulge some useful information, "If ye' wish t'know more about tha' curse, find a reaper wearin' their spectacles. The abili'y to perceive one's soul could prove useful to ya'."

"Can't you just put your glasses on and have a look?"

Undertaker chuckled and patted his body in a mock search before throwing his hands up in defeat, "Would love ta', dearie, but 'm afraid I've misplaced 'em." Sceptical, you huffed, what was the use in telling you to ask a reaper when the one reaper you could ask wasn't willing to help?