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Let Me Be The Wallpaper That Papers Up Your Room OVAs

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Pokkle strolled up to the impressive mansion. He had received an invitation to join the young Earl for tea, but Pokkle knew this was not because the Earl fancied his company. No, it must be something far more pressing, something far more urgent. But Pokkle was confident. He was not scared of the Queen’s Guard Dog, nor his handsome, gorgeous, mouth-watering butler, Sebastian. Pokkle licked his lips. He was ready. His body was prepared. If he were part cat like that smol boi Atsushi then his cat ears and tail would be out, twitching in anticipation.

The grand doors opened before Pokkle had a chance to knock, Sebastian gripping the knob tightly between his thumb and forefinger. He bowed deeply.

“Welcome to the Phantomhive manor.” He smiled maliciously, his eyes meeting Pokkle’s with a deathly glint. Pokkle could have stared into those eyes all day. “Won’t you come in?”

Pokkle stormed in, his heart hammering in excitement. The manor was big. Pokkle was impressed. How many rooms were there? How many people could be kept captive here? How many bodies could be hidden in such a large building? The possibilities ran through Pokkle’s mind, but his thoughts were interrupted by a voice that drifted across the hall.

“Ah, Pokkle. I’m glad you could make it.” Ciel Phantomhive stood there, dressed in his usual Victorian outfit. He looked down at Pokkle from the top the stairs, arrogance smouldering his blue orb. Ciel probably felt confident with the presence of his trusty butler there, but Pokkle didn’t care. In the end, Pokkle was more powerful than any old demon. “Come upstairs, we can play some GAMES while Sebastian goes and fetches us some tea.”

Pokkle leapt up the stairs in one jump. He followed the short boi into the games room; a chessboard was waiting in the centre of the room. “I assume you know how to play chess?” Ciel asked.

Pokkle had no idea how to play. “Yes,” he lied. “Of course, only a donkey brain wouldn’t know how to play. Are you accusing me of being a donkey?” Ciel gaped in surprise, but Pokkle didn’t allow him to get a word in. “I can’t believe you would do this. I just can’t believe it. I CANNOT BELIEVE IT. I’VE NEVER BEEN SO OFFENDED!” Pokkle was shouting, anger biting every word, his words flowing so smoothly that even himself was inclined to believe the lies.

“It was never my intention to offend yo-“

Pokkle cut off. “But of course, this was never about playing chess was it? You wanted me here for something else.”

Ciel furrowed his brow. “So you guessed. You are as perceptive as Sebastian’s report said you were. You are clearly a great match for me; in fact I don’t think I’ve ever had an enemy as intelligent as you. Indeed, you are right. The Queen has contacted me; I suspect you to be involved in the murder of one of her corgis. This is a grave offence, and if you are guilty then I have the duty, as the Queen’s Guard Dog, to inflict justice upon you.”

Pokkle sweeted. How could Ciel figure this out? Of course, it must be down to the butler. Without Sebastian, Ciel is powerless. But Sebastian wasn’t there. In a panic, Pokkle grabbed the chessboard and swiftly hit the Earl over the head. The boi fell to the floor, clutching his head, tears spilling out of his eyes.

“Sebast-“ Ciel’s cries were cut off by another hit with the board. This time, blood splattered out, spraying the wall with crimson. Pokkle grinned, blood dripping off his face. This is when he felt most alive: first by getting the person to trust them, and then by taking their life. And Ciel was a fool to have let himself be alone with just Pokkle, with none of his staff to protect him. In the end, the Earl was just an ordinary child. Pokkle let the board fall onto the boys head a third time, ending his cries. Now his head was a splattered mess, his skull caved in and his brains smashed into nothing.

At that, the staff burst in through the door; the cook, the gardener and the maid. Pokkle didn’t know their names, but he couldn’t leave any witnesses. By the time he was done, the maid had been torn limb from limb, the cook had been reduced to ashes with his own flamethrower, and the gardener was missing his head.

All that was left was to deal with Sebastian.

As Pokkle turned to leave the room, the black butler entered. “My Lord, I have prepared your tea, along with a chocolate gateau, one of your favourites.”

“You’re too late. Ciel is dead,” Pokkle declared.

The tray fell from Sebastian’s hand. “No.” At first it was just a whisper, so quiet that Pokkle thought he had misheard it. Then it became a scream. “No! I can’t believe you would do this. I just can’t believe it. I CANNOT BELIEVE IT. I didn’t even get to taste his soul. The one thing that was keeping me going. His precious soul. I need it. Give it back to me Pokkle!” Tears spilled down the butler’s face, and he’d never looked so beautiful. It was a fact, one that no one could refuse.

“No.”

With that, Pokkle walked out, leaving the Butler in his misery. As he left, he set the mansion on fire, to hide all the evidence, just as he’d done before 3 years ago on the Earl’s 10th birthday. Sebastian would likely return to the demon world to hang out with Ryuk, but Pokkle was sure that once he’d recovered from his grief the two could meet in battle, giving Pokkle the opportunity to once more ruin someone’s life. He was looking forward to it, but in the meantime, he would cause another famine to pass the time. Pokkle smirked. He was looking forward to living a long, blood-soaked life…