The Ruined Mansion

Fandom: Kuroshitsuji
Author: MacabreVampire (silenttaiyoukai)
Word Count: ~1,000
Characters: Undertaker/Mey-Rin
Summary: Mey-Rin and the Undertaker revisit the mansion.
A/N: This is "The Maid and the Mortician" chapter 6.

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They let themselves in through the servant’s entrance in the rear of the mansion, which was rusted on its hinges and hung crookedly ajar like a monster’s gaping maw.

In such a relatively short time, it had been transformed into something akin to an old-world Gothic castle from the penny dreadfuls Mey-Rin loved reading so. It was grotesque and beautiful, surreal and so very dreary. Nature had begun to slowly reclaim the decaying ruin, with vines crawling their way through the windows to coil themselves along the floorboards and around the legs of the dusty, slowly molding furniture. The kitchens now smelled of dust and death where there had once been the constant aroma of lovely confections and sweet tea, and the occasional burnt roast from Bard’s flamethrower. It was a sickening combination that had made her gag and hold her handkerchief to her mouth as she proceeded onward into the gloom.

They came into the main foyer and Mey-Rin stopped just over the threshold to take in the sight.  The Undertaker skirted his way around her and came to stand in the center of the room. He spun on his heels with his arms held wide as he looked at the webbed chandelier above his head, his boots leaving intricate circular patterns in the thick layer of dust. He laughed out loud at the awful beauty of it. The sound echoed off the walls and made a chill run down her spine.

It was the first time since her former Master’s death that she had stepped foot in the mansion, and to see it in such a way brought a wave of conflicting emotions. She ran her hand over the grand banister and smiled a bit, remembering the time she had accidentally polished it with shoe polish instead of wax. After the Young Master’s death, the Marchioness and her husband had tried to keep the mansion maintained until they could find a suitable purchaser for the massive property, but no buyer had come forward even an entire year later. And so the place was doomed to fall into disrepair, as the Marchioness and her husband would not sink all their resources into an unprofitable venture.

“What did you expect to find?” the Undertaker said suddenly, startling May-Rin out of her daydreams.

“I don’t know what I’m looking for,” she sighed.

“There is nothing for you here,” he said. “Though I must say, the mansion is quite magnificent even like this. It might even be an improvement. It’s almost like a tomb.”

Mey-Rin knew he was right. It was a mistake to have come back here. “You know what happened to them, don’t you? To the Young Master and Mister Sebastian.”

“I may have the answers you want, but are you willing to listen? Will knowing the truth put you at ease?” he asked, taking a seat at the bottom of the stairs at Mey-Rin’s feet.

“I don’t know. It’s been exactly a year. I miss the Young Master,” she said. After a moment of silence, she continued, “Just answer one question for me.”

“Hmm?” the Undertaker hummed, tugging on the hem of Mey-Rin’s dress.

“Was Mister Sebastian…was he…was he like you?” she asked, taking a seat beside him.

She had not wanted to think about it before. She had always loved the weird and the occult, the stranger side of life. Yet she had always managed to keep a healthy amount of skepticism. The man sitting beside her had changed all that, though. Now that she knew that the world was far stranger than she had once thought, everything that had seemed impossible before was not strictly within the realm of fantasy anymore. Ghosts and ghouls, things that went bump in the night, where not confined to her favorite stories anymore. She was sure now that the Young Master had kept a great deal of secrets from his servants. And so had Mister Sebastian.

“Like me? Don’t be ridiculous, my dear. But if you’re asking whether or not he was human…well, I can’t say that he was.”

He would have told if she had pressed her. He could have told her how he had tried to save the young Earl’s soul from a hungry demon. Just how many times had he told Ciel to keep his soul safe? He had lost count over the years. He could have recalled all the times he had fought hand to hand with the sadistic demon playing as a humble butler. He could have told her about all the evil things he himself had done in order to better understand the human soul and what comes after death. He could have told her about his lovely bizarre dolls and his long history with the Phantomhive family.  

But she said no more.

The Undertaker put his arm around Mey-Rin’s shoulder and pulled her closer. Mey-Rin leaned her head on his shoulder and stared silently out of the filthy windows. The last year had certainly been a very strange time in her life. The Undertaker rested his head on top of hers and Mey-Rin closed her eyes to block out the mansion. Truth be told, she wasn’t quite sure where she would have been without him. Possibly she would have still been living in East End, struggling to survive. Or perhaps she would be in France with Bard and Finny. She couldn’t say she would have gone with them even without the Undertaker’s interference. She had taken a few contracts in France before Mister Sebastian had found her, and she couldn’t say that she had liked it much. She couldn’t speak a lick of French, that was for sure.

Her life would have been much different, and probably far less interesting, if he hadn’t come to London Hospital all those months ago.

Mey-Rin slid out from the Undertaker’s embrace and made her way upstairs to what had once been Ciel Phantomhive’s private chambers.