Black Butler: The Lich's Compass

Chapter 2

In the afternoon, as Sebastian made his way through the manor, a faint sound of clattering caught his attention. His footsteps were silent as he followed the noise, leading him to the guest quarters—the very room where Marisol had been staying.

He pushed open the door, and there, standing amidst a sea of overturned sheets, scattered trinkets, and misplaced furniture, was Grell Sutcliff. The red-haired reaper was digging through Marisol's belongings with wild enthusiasm, flipping through papers, lifting pillows, and tossing anything she deemed unnecessary over her shoulder.

"Grell," Sebastian said calmly, though his crimson eyes flashed with slight annoyance. "What exactly are you doing in here?"

Grell turned with a dramatic gasp, pressing her hand to her chest. "Oh, Bassy! Don't sneak up on a lady like that! You nearly gave me a heart attack." She smirked, tossing her hair. "Though I wouldn't mind a little mouth-to-mouth from you~."

Sebastian's patience, as usual, remained unshaken. "Explain yourself."

Grell huffed, looking rather put out that her playful advances weren't being returned. "Well, if you must know, I was investigating. A little bird told me there might be something interesting about this Marisol person—so I thought I'd take a look for myself!" She twirled her scythe lazily in her hand, her gaze flicking over the room again. "I sensed something was off."

Sebastian crossed his arms. "And your method of 'investigation' includes turning the room upside down?"

Grell shrugged with a mischievous grin. "Well, a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. This place was far too tidy, and that just screams secrets, Bassy!"

Sebastian sighed and stepped closer. "If you're quite done, I would prefer if you didn't destroy our guest's belongings. She's not particularly fond of having her privacy invaded."

Grell raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh? So you are hiding something, aren't you, Bassy?" She pouted dramatically. "You're no fun at all."

"On the contrary," Sebastian replied with a smile that didn't reach his eyes, "I'm ensuring the safety of our guests—and that includes keeping you from making a mess."

Grell scoffed but gave a small giggle. "Fine, fine. I'll leave for now. But I'll be back, Bassy. You can count on that!" With a twirl of her scythe, she headed toward the door, flashing him a wink before disappearing with an exaggerated flourish.

Sebastian looked at the chaos left behind, rubbing his temple. Marisol would not be pleased, but at least Grell had left empty-handed.

As he began putting the room back in order, he couldn't help but wonder just what the reaper had been hoping to find. Something about Grell's sudden interest in Marisol made him uneasy, and that was never a good sign.

Down in the cool, dim wine cellar of the Phantomhive Manor, Marisol had been curiously inspecting the selection of bottles, reading their labels and marveling at the centuries-old vintages. It was a far cry from the more practical storage of rum and other liquors she was accustomed to aboard her ship, La Esperanza. The scent of aged oak barrels and fine wine filled the air, making it a calming space—until an eerie presence suddenly made itself known.

Without warning, a sharp slicing sound cut through the silence. Before Marisol could react, she felt something cold pass through her midsection, followed by the unsettling sensation of separation. Glancing down, she saw her torso slide cleanly off her waist, the lower half of her body slumping to the ground, yet there was no blood. Instead, ethereal smoke and light leaked from the severed area, the glowing vapor gently swirling in the air like mist.