Black Butler: The Lich's Compass

Chapter 4

The morning sun filtered through the windows of the plantation's dining room, casting a soft glow on the elegant yet modest breakfast table. Don Alberto's three mistresses, draped in fine silks and lace, sat at one end, their eyes trained on their guests with a sharp, assessing gaze. The breakfast they had arranged was no ordinary meal—it was a test, a subtle way of gauging Ciel and Sebastian's reactions to the local cuisine. Each dish placed before them was traditional, simple yet rich in cultural significance.

Marisol sat next to Ciel, her eyes flicking between him and the table as the servant unveiled the dishes. She knew exactly what the mistresses were up to; this was more than just a meal. The quality of the food, the presentation, even the taste were all carefully chosen to see if the foreign guests would be revolted or displeased. It was a game of appearances, one Marisol had learned well from her time in Don Alberto's service.

She leaned slightly toward Ciel, her voice quiet but informative as she began to explain. "These are quesitos," she said, pointing to the golden, flaky pastries that glistened with a light coating of sugar. "They're filled with sweet cream cheese. It's a popular breakfast pastry here in Puerto Rico."

Ciel examined the quesito with mild curiosity, lifting it delicately with a fork. He had eaten many fine and exotic dishes in his life, but this one was new to him. He took a small bite, chewing thoughtfully before giving a subtle nod of approval. "It's sweeter than I expected," he commented.

Marisol smiled slightly, pleased that Ciel had passed the first part of the unspoken test. She gestured toward the basket of rolls that had been placed on the table next. "This is pan de agua," she explained. "It's a light, crusty bread. Very common here—good for soaking up the sauce from stews or just with butter."

Sebastian picked up a piece, breaking it in half and tasting it with his usual refined grace. His sharp eyes caught the glance from one of the mistresses, who seemed to be waiting for a reaction. Instead, he merely smiled politely and placed the bread back on his plate, not giving them the satisfaction of any outward reaction.

Marisol then pointed to the final dish, a large plate of scrambled eggs mixed with tomatoes, onions, and peppers. "And this is revuelto," she continued. "It's a simple dish—eggs scrambled with vegetables, often served with rice or alongside meats."

Ciel looked at the colorful eggs, raising an eyebrow. "Simple," he echoed, though not in a derogatory way. He cut a small piece, tasting it slowly. The flavor was unfamiliar but not unpleasant, and he gave a short nod of approval. "It's not what I expected, but it's... satisfying."

Marisol glanced at the mistresses, catching the faintest flicker of disappointment on their faces. They had hoped to throw Ciel and Sebastian off with the unfamiliar food, but the pair had handled it with the same composed elegance they approached everything else. Marisol smirked internally, knowing that this small victory was hers as well.

One of the mistresses, a striking woman with dark hair and sharp features, spoke up, her voice smooth but laced with a hint of condescension. "I hope the food is to your liking, Lord Phantomhive. We were eager to introduce you to the delicacies of our island."

Ciel, ever the master of subtlety, offered a polite smile. "It's quite unique," he replied, his tone calm and unwavering. "I can see why it's cherished here."

Sebastian chimed in, his deep voice adding to the air of formality. "Indeed. The cuisine reflects the richness of the culture. It's quite... enlightening."

The mistresses exchanged glances, their test having failed to catch their guests off guard. Marisol, sensing the tension, subtly shifted in her seat, her eyes briefly meeting Sebastian's. She knew he had seen through the ploy just as she had. He gave her a slight, knowing nod, silently acknowledging her role in guiding Ciel through the unspoken challenge.