Soft afternoon light filtered into the inn room. Outside the window, the distant clatter of carriage wheels striking cobblestones echoed faintly. Air tinged with coal smoke seeped through the gaps in the curtains. On the bed, Ciel Phantomhive slowly opened his eyes. His head felt heavy. His eyelids were swollen. His throat burned. *(I cried too much.)* Remembering the previous night, the pit of his stomach clenched tight. He had wailed in the carriage, had put his own hands to his throat. He had never exposed such disgrace before in his entire life. "[cold]Pathetic." He sat up. His entire body was wrapped in lethargy, as if he had turned into a lump of lead. He scanned the room. On the desk lay a single memo. Sebastian's meticulous handwriting. *'Additional information has arrived from Lord Lau. The woman in question appears to have relocated to an abandoned warehouse in Whitechapel. I believe this evening will be the final opportunity.'* Ciel gripped the memo tightly. *(Greta van Elst.)* The woman who survived that night's ritual. The only clue to what he himself had screamed, what he had wished for. Ciel got off the bed and peered into the washstand mirror. The dark circles under his eyes were terrible. His eyelids were still red. A face barely presentable. He suddenly felt ashamed of his self from the night before. He wanted to throw everything away. *(If I stop here...)* Everything would be for nothing. Ciel washed his face, changed his clothes, and neatly adjusted his collar. The boy in the mirror returned to his usual self. Only his expression remained slightly taut. He opened the room door. In the hallway, Sebastian stood waiting. His jet-black hair was without a single strand out of place, his crimson eyes gazing steadily at Ciel. "[gentle]Good morning, young master." Ciel said nothing, simply staring up at Sebastian's face. "[serious]How is your physical condition?" His voice carried a tone that suggested he knew all about the previous night's wailing. That demon had witnessed every moment of that disgrace in the carriage. "[cold]Excellent." Sebastian stared intently at Ciel's face. Seeing a complexion that was clearly a lie, he nonetheless said nothing, merely tilting his head slightly. "[gentle]...Is that so." A single breath of silence. *(You bastard.)* It infuriated him, but for some reason, a little of the tension left his shoulders. "[cold]Let's go, Sebastian. Prepare the carriage." "[gentle]As you wish." Along the Thames at dusk. A soot-stained brick warehouse loomed hazily in the fog. The damp wind from the river carried the scent of rotted wood and the tide. The warehouse door was slightly ajar. Ciel and Sebastian entered without a sound. A space with a high ceiling. Broken glass bottles and rusted chains lay scattered across the floor. Against the far wall, a single lamp was lit. In its faint light, a woman was crouching. Her fiery, deep crimson hair was carelessly pinned up, a single curled lock falling against her temple. Wrapped in a blanket, she stared up at the ceiling with vacant, golden-brown eyes. It was Greta van Elst. As Ciel approached, Greta's eyes slowly regained their focus. "[whispers]...The child from that night." A trembling voice. Her mind, clouded by drugs, was gradually beginning to recognize reality. "[serious]That, little..." She clutched the blanket again and suddenly sat upright. On her left wrist, a brand combining a hexagram and a serpent was visible. The mark of the Cerberus Circle. "[cold]I am the child who was at the Cerberus Circle's ritual." Hiding his agitation, Ciel looked straight at Greta. "[cold]Tell me the truth of that night." Greta stared intently at Ciel's face. Her eyes widened. "[surprised]No." Her voice suddenly grew louder. "[angry]You... were never a sacrifice." Ciel's heart gave a violent thump. "[shouting]You called it—the demon, you, yourself!" It was exactly what Lau had told him. But this time was different. A person who had been at the scene of the ritual three years ago was telling him what she had seen with her own eyes. Ciel crouched down in front of Greta. "[cold]What did the demon ask me?" He desperately suppressed the tremor threatening to enter his voice. "[cold]What did I answer?" Tears welled up in Greta's eyes. Perhaps due to the drugs, her memories seemed connected only in fragments. Incoherent words began spilling from her mouth one after another. "[crying]The flames of the hexagram... George's screams... Ah, the smell of blood..." She hugged her own shoulders and began to tremble violently. "[crying]And then—the summoned demon—" Greta raised her face. Beneath the red hair plastered to her forehead with sweat, her golden-brown eyes shone with madness. "[whispers]Without hesitation, it approached the boy in the cage." Ciel held his breath. "[whispers]That demon asked, in a quiet voice—" Greta's voice suddenly shifted to a grandiose tone, as if reading lines from a play. "[cold]'Do I have your permission to kill everyone here?'—it said." The air grew tense. "[cold]It asked that child. It asked you." Inside Ciel's head, he felt something stir faintly. A tiny fragment of a sealed memory, trembling beneath the ice. "[serious]And then... I..." Greta shook her head. "[crying]I don't remember. Right after that, everything became a sea of blood—" She closed her mouth for a moment. Then, as if recalling something, she slowly spun her words. "[whispers]It's just..." Tears traced down her cheeks. "[crying]That child was crying. But he was smiling. He was angry. Properly angry." Greta's hand tried to touch Ciel's cheek. Her fingertips were trembling. "[whispers]It wasn't just a frightened face. You were properly angry, little one." Those words pierced deep into Ciel's chest. *(I didn't just want to run away.)* *(I was—angry.)* Something deep in his chest grew quietly warm. He had thought he was nothing but a coward. But maybe that wasn't true. —At that moment. *BOOM!* The thunderous sound of the warehouse entrance boards being kicked in. "[shouting]There he is! The Earl's brat!" Three armed men stormed into the dimness. Guns in hand, their eyes gleaming abnormally. Pursuers from the remnants. "[gentle]Young master." Sebastian stepped forward in front of Ciel. While adjusting his white glove with his right hand. "[gentle]Please wait just a moment." He straightened the sleeve of his coat. The motion was as elegant as if he were preparing for a dinner party. The first man raised his gun. The trigger was pulled. Sebastian deflected the bullet with his bare hand. In the next instant, that hand seized the man's arm. *Crack.* The bone broke. "GYAAAAAA!!" The second man closed in from behind. Turning, Sebastian grabbed his wrist and wrenched it against the joint. The third man was sent flying toward a ceiling beam. *Thud.* Silence. The men collapsed onto the floor. All three of them, not a single twitch. Through it all, Ciel remained crouched before Greta. "[serious]The rest—do you remember anything else?" He grabbed Greta's shoulder. Her consciousness was already beginning to fade. "[whispers]That child..." Her eyes threatened to close. But as if mustering the last of her strength, she whispered. "[whispers]He said his own name. Phantomhive—he properly gave his name." Ciel's hand stopped. *(My ten-year-old self—gave his name.)* *(Even while terrified, his own name.)* He wasn't just a coward who only ran away. That conviction became the first light, pulling the boy up from the abyss. Greta lost consciousness just like that. Ciel stood up quietly. His hands were trembling. But it was a different kind of tremor from the night before, the kind that threatened to make him crumble. These were hands trying to grasp something. "[gentle]Young master, if you would look at this." Sebastian pulled a folded map from the pocket of one of the fallen pursuers. Spread open, the map showed the coordinates of the old Phantomhive manor ruins, marked with a red circle. The remaining two members of the remnants had already pinpointed the site of the old manor's basement. They intended to complete the ritual there tonight—before Ciel could. Ciel snatched the map. "[serious]Let's go. To the old manor. I'm getting there first." There was no hesitation in his voice. Sebastian caught the change in that voice. A different light dwelled in his crimson eyes. "[gentle]As you wish." An elegant bow. Ciel turned and looked down just once at the unconscious Greta. "[whispers]I'll thank you for this." He murmured quietly, then walked toward the door. The carriage carrying the two of them raced into the London night fog. Their destination: the countryside of Surrey. Those burnt ruins he had avoided for three years. The final night, when the seal on his memories would be completely undone, was beginning.