Chapter 96: Fragile peace
Chapter 95
The sound of leather against flesh cuts through the silence, sharp, deliberate. Each strike echoes in the crimson room like a punctuation mark to madness.
The man wielding the whip doesn’t flinch. His face, pale and still as porcelain, is devoid of pleasure or anger. Only a faint exhale leaves his lips as he lowers the whip and regards the trembling, gagged man at his feet.
The silver-haired duke—Sebastian Doraemont—looks almost bored. His icy-blue eyes, so clear and cold they seem carved from glass, drift lazily over the welts rising on the other man’s back.
"Useless," he murmurs, voice calm, disinterested. Not cruel—no, cruelty would imply emotion. This is something worse.
The bound man chokes on a sob, the gag muffling his pleas. The sound grates on Sebastian’s nerves, not because it’s pitiful, but because it’s wrong. The tone. The tremor. The rhythm. It’s all wrong.
He tosses the whip aside with a flick of his wrist, the motion elegant and disdainful. Then he moves to the chair in the corner, upholstered in dark red velvet,the only soft thing in the room. He sinks into it, pinching the bridge of his nose as though weary of the world.
"None of you get it right," he says softly. "None of you sound like him."
The man on the floor is sobbing now. Sebastian glances at him, eyes narrowing slightly, and then gestures to the guards by the door. "Take him away. Dispose of him properly this time. I don’t want another one crawling back."
The guards move quickly, efficient and silent.
When the room is empty again, the duke exhales and leans back in the chair, staring at the ceiling where flickering candlelight paints faint, ghostly shadows. His hand drifts absently to his chest, tracing invisible lines over his heart.
"My rose," he whispers, almost tenderly.
A faint smile touches his lips then—too soft, too human—and it makes the sight all the more horrifying.
He remembers the day he found him. The auction hall had smelled of perfume and desperation, filled with trembling bodies dressed in silk and fear. But among them, one had stood out, a defiant beauty with eyes that dared to look up.
His perfect rose.
He’d been radiant even in chains, fury blooming behind his gaze. Sebastian had felt something shift in his chest that day.
He hadn’t wanted to possess Ciel. He wanted to unmake him. To peel back every layer of defiance until there was nothing left but surrender. That moment when Ciel’s voice had finally broken, when his tears had fallen—not out of pain, but despair—that was the only time Sebastian ever felt alive.
And then he’d vanished.
No body. No trace. Gone, as though the world itself had taken pity on him and hidden him away.
Sebastian laughs softly now.
"He’ll come back," he murmurs.
"I’ll make sure of it."
He stands, brushing invisible dust off his immaculate black suit, and crosses to the vanity. A single red rose rests in a crystal vase there, long since dried. He lifts it delicately, fingertips caressing the brittle petals.
The petal crumbles between his fingers.
And the duke smiles.
***
Ciel
I look at my baked goods with a proud smile.
Perfectly golden on top, soft and sweet underneath .
I toss the cupcakes into a bowl and start mixing the batter for the next batch. The kitchen smells like vanilla and calm.
I slide the second tray into the oven and cover the ready ones, tapping the spoon against the edge of the bowl before setting it down. The air feels warm and comforting, the kind of domestic silence that makes you think, yeah, this is peace.
Except... I don’t know what to do with peace.
I sit on the stool and lean my elbow on the counter, staring at nothing in particular. When I’m alone like this, it gets harder to ignore that little coil of anxiety deep in my chest , that whisper that says none of this is real. That maybe it’s all borrowed, like a dream that’s too sweet to last.
Sometimes I wonder if I’m just playing house. If any minute now, the world will remember who I used to be and come crashing through the door to take it all away.
Jack isn’t like that, I remind myself. He’s infuriating, smug, impossible—but he’s kind. He doesn’t play those games. Still, that fear sits in my ribs, waiting, like a sleeping serpent that never truly goes away.
I take a deep breath and try to shake it off, focusing on the quiet hum of the oven instead. The smell of sugar and butter fills the space, warm and grounding.
The timer barely beeps before I hear footsteps—heavy, lazy ones. I don’t even have to look up before a familiar voice says, "Smells divine," followed by the sound of cupcakes being stolen.
"Jack," I call out warningly, already knowing it’s useless.
He grins over his shoulder, two cupcakes in hand, looking devastatingly unbothered. "Consider it a taste test."
"Thief," I mutter, but there’s no bite to it.
"Good-looking thief," he corrects with that stupid wink that makes it impossible to stay mad.
He disappears before I can swat him with the towel, leaving me staring after him, sighing into a smile I didn’t mean to make.
Peace still scares me.
But maybe, just maybe... I could get used to it.
***
Jack
I bite into the vanilla cupcake and groan before I can stop myself. Damn. It’s soft, warm, just the right amount of sweet—like everything Ciel touches turns to comfort.
Worth risking his wrath.
I glance over my shoulder like a thief, then head for my office, cupcake in hand. The second the door shuts behind me, the warmth drains out of me.
The mask slips.
I drop the cupcake onto the nearest book, drag a hand down my face, and sink into my chair. The quiet hum of the ocean outside only makes it worse with how it is too calm, too peaceful.
I fucking hate this, it feels like sand slipping through my fingers unable to stop it.
I lean back, staring at the ceiling. The Dukes. Those bastards don’t stop looking. And if they ever find out where we are...
A tightness forms in my chest, the kind that comes from fear disguised as anger.
I look down at the half-eaten cupcake on the desk. The crumbs are gold against the dark wood.
They can come for me. Hell, I’ll invite them to.
But they won’t touch him.
Not while I’m still breathing.