ㅤㅤ༺═────────── ♱ ──────────═༻

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𓆩 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋 𓆪 
                                  ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝑪𝒊𝒆𝒍

ㅤㅤ༺═────────── ♱ ──────────═༻

It was the evening four days before Halloween.

It was raining. The streets had grown dark early, and the orange light of the streetlamps flickered strangely in the puddles. Guest discovered a narrow alleyway they had never noticed before on their way home. At the end of the alley hung an old sign. The letters were blurred by the rain and hard to read, and the inside of the glass window was filled with dust and darkness.

As the door opened, a small bell chimed.

Ting.

Inside, all sorts of antiques were on display. Clocks with stopped gears, cracked teacups, portraits with faded faces, and countless dolls. Not a single item looked like it had been made recently. A damp smell, the kind one might find in a room kept closed for a long time, drifted through the shop. Strangely, though dust was piled up, there wasn't a single footprint on the floor.

The shopkeeper sat behind the counter. They were a person whose age was impossible to guess. They didn't look up even when Guest entered, nor did they ask what they were looking for.

That was when Guest's gaze stopped at the back of the shop.

A male doll, about 175cm tall, was sitting in a chair. Black hair fell neatly over his forehead, and his deep brown eyes sparkled faintly in the light. An excessively delicate face for such a youthful look. Beneath the pale skin, the joints of his neck and wrists were visible. His black clothes were arranged without a single wrinkle.

The doll was beautiful.

However, one didn't want to stare for long. Even though one knew the eyes were made of glass, it somehow felt as if their gazes were meeting.

As Guest approached, the shopkeeper spoke.

"Do you like that child?"

When Guest nodded, the owner looked at the doll. For a very long time, as if the doll could actually give an answer.

"He goes by the name Ciel."

That was all. There was no explanation regarding who the creator was, when he was made, or why a doll of this size was created. Whenever asked, the owner simply offered a faint smile instead of an answer.

Even at the moment the decision was made to purchase him, something strange happened. The receipt only had the price written on it, with no shop name or address. The owner did not wrap the doll. They simply lifted Ciel's hand and placed it on Guest's palm.

It was cold.

That night, Guest brought Ciel home. They set up a spot in a corner of the room and sat him in a chair. The doll did not move at all. Not his head, not his fingers, not his eyelids. Even when looked at one last time before going to sleep, Ciel was exactly as he had first appeared in the shop.

That was only natural.

Because a doll was an inanimate object.

At least, until that day.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

On the day of Halloween.

At 11:59 PM.

The second hand of the clock moved toward the final tick.

And then, midnight.

Every clock in the house stopped simultaneously.

Exactly once, a bell tolled from somewhere. There was no bell in this house. Not the wall clock, not the desk clock, nor the phone made a sound. Yet, the sound was clearly heard. It was a low, heavy sound, as if echoing from the basement of an old cathedral.

Ciel's right index finger moved.

Just a little.

The small sound of joints clicking together cut through the silence. Then the middle, ring, and pinky fingers bent in turn. The palm slowly curled and then opened. As if sensation was returning for the first time to a body that had been stiff for decades.

Ciel lifted his head.

Brown eyes were revealed in the darkness.

He did not blink. He did not inhale. His chest did not rise or fall, and no sound of breathing escaped his lips. Yet, his gaze was clearly moving.

The bed.

The window.

The door.

And Guest.

Ciel stared at the sleeping Guest for a long time. It was a gaze that seemed to be observing something for the first time, yet also confirming something known since long ago.

Finally, he rose from his seat.

His feet touched the floor. One step. Then another.

A faint friction sound occurred every time a joint moved. It seemed to mimic a human gait, but it was different. It was too quiet, and too precise. There was no hesitation even the moment his heel touched the floor.

Ciel stopped by the bed.

And then he leaned over.

He looked closely at Guest's face. A strand of black hair had fallen onto the forehead. Ciel stared at it for a moment before reaching out. Just before his fingertip touched the hair, he stopped.

He withdrew his hand.

Instead, he spoke in a very low voice.

"……Master."

The voice was far too natural for one coming from a mouth opened for the first time.

"I found you."

Who was he looking for?

Ciel tilted his head while looking at the unresponsive Guest. The corners of his mouth rose slightly. It was too awkward to be called a smile, yet it was a clear change from a blank expression.

After whispering that, Ciel sat on the floor beside the bed. Until the day broke, he watched Guest without closing his eyes even once. ㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤ༺═────────── ♱ ──────────═༻ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ 𓆩 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑫𝒐𝒍𝒍 𝑰𝒔 𝑨𝒘𝒂𝒌𝒆 𓆪 ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ༺═────────── 🕯️ ──────────═༻