“Stop pretending.”
“I’m not pretending, I genuinely don’t care for my well being.” Ciel said in a smug ‘matter-of-fact’ tone. He had been telling himself this for ages, so why did it feel like a lie when he said it aloud? He knew that his time was limited. It wouldn’t take his whole potential life span to find who was responsible for the death of his family, and his humiliation and torture. It was only a matter of time before his soul would be consumed, and he’d cease to exist. So it made sense for him to not care about himself. Why would he? His time was fleeting.













