Black Butler: The Lich's Compass

Chapter 3

The room was quiet for a brief moment, the soft clink of porcelain cups the only sound as Marisol, Ciel, and Sebastian discussed the trade of sugar—an integral part of their business dealings with Don Alberto. The air was still heavy, the tension of the morning's stroll and the lingering memory of the pigeons now replaced with the cold weight of negotiation. Don Alberto had begun to lay out his prices, his usual smugness evident in the way he spoke, as if he had the upper hand in this exchange.

But Marisol's sharp gaze never left him. She could see through his lies, his carefully constructed facade of confidence. She had learned well in her years as a servant, always watching, always listening. And now, as a captain, she was not so easily swayed by empty words.

Ciel, who had been quietly observing the exchange, his usually stoic face betraying only the slightest hint of curiosity, finally spoke, his voice steady but pointed. "So you claim that the price of sugar has risen due to 'market instability'? Yet, there are no such reports of this in the records I've seen. Are you suggesting the instability is only confined to your business?" His tone was cutting, the subtle weight of his position as an Earl pressing down on Don Alberto.

Sebastian leaned back in his chair, folding his arms with a knowing smile. "It seems your business acumen may have suffered a lapse, Señor Don Alberto," he added with a note of sarcasm, his voice smooth as ever. "Or perhaps you believe we are unaccustomed to the tactics you employ?"

Don Alberto's smirk faltered for the briefest moment, but he recovered quickly. "Perhaps, but these are difficult times," he replied, though the unspoken tension in the room made it clear that his words were little more than a half-hearted attempt at justification. His eyes shifted uneasily between the three, particularly to Marisol, who had remained uncharacteristically quiet.

She had heard enough. Without warning, her foot shot out, landing with precision against the leg of Don Alberto's chair. The impact was sharp and sudden, and with a crack, the leg snapped clean off, sending the chair tipping backwards. Don Alberto, momentarily startled, struggled to regain his balance, his hands flailing for support.

Marisol's eyes never wavered. Her expression remained cold, her voice a quiet, controlled fury. "I've had enough of your lies, Don Alberto. You might think you can manipulate us, but I'm not the same woman who served your table." She stood, her presence commanding the room as she looked down at him with a steely gaze. "You can no longer afford to play these games with me."

Don Alberto, now leaning awkwardly against the back of the chair, glared up at her, his face flushed with a mix of anger and embarrassment. He opened his mouth to retort, but the weight of Marisol's words hung heavily in the air, leaving him with little ground to argue. The once self-assured man now looked small, powerless in the face of the very woman he had once controlled.

Ciel, ever the observer, allowed himself a brief smirk, though he remained silent. Sebastian, meanwhile, leaned forward slightly, his eyes gleaming with quiet amusement. "It seems you've lost your seat at the table, Don Alberto," he remarked dryly, the words dripping with a touch of malicious satisfaction.

For a moment, there was only the sound of the broken chair creaking as Don Alberto regained his composure. His expression twisted, no longer the smug, confident demeanor he had worn earlier. Finally, he spoke, though his voice lacked the usual conviction. "You think you've won, Captain? This isn't over."

Marisol's lips curved into a faint smile, her gaze unwavering. "I don't need to win, Don Alberto. I just need to make sure you know the rules have changed." She turned on her heel, motioning for Ciel and Sebastian to follow her. "Shall we continue the discussion, gentlemen?"