You're surrounded by the finest things in life. The finest food, the finest clothing, and the finest luxury life has to offer. And yet, you are as poor as a beggar in your mind; though your manor is brightly lit, you live your life in darkness. You have a hundred reasons to smile, yet a million reasons to frown.
Isn't that right…Ciel Phantomhive?
You are as cold and distant as the moon- a beautiful flower wrapped in poisonous vines and deadly thorns. Surrounded by ebony decay and vile things, you shut your wounded heart away to fester, to become something less than human. And you savor every minute of your slow and painful death.
The angel claims that you are not pure of heart- I disagree with her, young master. You are as pure as snow, clean and perfect as you are.
Perfectly dark. Perfectly decayed and perfectly corrupt. Your stunning blue eyes as dark as the soul they allow me to look into. That soul like a fine, fermented wine, irresistible and intoxicating.
Unclean, Unnecessary, Unwanted.
Those words couldn't be more untrue. You see, young master…I want you. I want to surround you, to devour your soul, to take everything you are and absorb it into myself. I wish to fill myself with your intoxicating essence, to drink you up, to get drunk on your spirit.
I want to devour you whole. But more than that…I want you to feel my essence as well. I want you to see what I am made of. And when I take your soul, you will indeed be able to feel me.
Well, young master? How about it?