The Charles Becomes a Wizard

Vincent is a believer in Christianity.

Admittedly, he was not a qualified Christian. He was hypocritical, vicious, and had blood on his hands. He was very sure that people like him would go to hell and suffer endless suffering after death, but he did not regret it. After all, what he did was to be loyal to the queen and to prevent the country from being in chaos.

In Vincent's previous impression, the destination of death is either heaven or hell, and there is no third option. However, his second son gave him a third option that was like an illusion - rebirth.

Intellectually, Vincent thought that his son might have had a nightmare and was still asleep, but his extremely sharp intuition, which had saved him countless times, was clamoring for him to believe that what Charles said was true.

Yes, if Ciel eventually inherited the title of House Phantomhive, then everything would make sense... his understanding of this small hall that he had never stepped into, and his sudden change in aura.

However, if the title finally fell to Charles, what happened to his eldest son Eric?

"Eric died when we were ten years old." Charles saw his doubts and gestured to Vincent in a slightly cold manner. "Father, please sit down first. I think I deserve more time now."

Ten years old. The twins of Phantomhive family just celebrated their tenth birthday. In that case... Eric might not live long?

This realization made Vincent's heart tremble. He looked at Charles deeply, then walked over to the sofa opposite him and sat down.

"Father, do you want to help the Queen get more wealth from the nobles? You will be regarded as a traitor to the nobles and become a thorn in their eyes."

"This is the Queen's order." Vincent certainly knew that his actions would bring danger, but the era of the nobility had passed. If all the wealth was in the hands of the nobility, the country's development would stagnate. If the country wanted to become stronger, it could only use a knife to cut out all the "chronic illnesses". It might fall into temporary chaos, but it was the best way to regain a new life.

"Did Father ever think about us when he was doing these things?"

Facing Charles' questioning tone, Vincent nodded slightly, "I will naturally protect you."

Does this mean that Eric might have died in a dying counterattack by the nobles? It seems that the security in the manor needs to be strengthened a little more.

"Heh," Charles laughed suddenly, his laughter full of sarcasm, which made Vincent frown unconsciously.

"How did father protect us? With the so-called 'dictation' from the Queen?"

"How do you know?" Vincent asked subconsciously, and then realized that the child in front of him was his future successor, so it was natural for him to hear about this matter. "The Queen promised to guarantee your safety."

"Hey, father," Charles tilted his head slightly, his eyes lit by the light were empty, making people feel uneasy for some reason, "Do you think being branded like an animal and locked in a cage for others to play with is considered living?"

"You..." Vincent's eyelashes trembled, and an ominous premonition instantly swept over his body. Vincent knew that the next conversation was definitely not what he wanted to hear. He suppressed his instinct to escape and stared at the boy in front of him without blinking, as if he would break if touched.

"Come to think of it, my father hasn't asked me why I became a count yet," the boy's beautiful eyes looked particularly clear under the dim light, but his gaze was floating in the air. He frowned slightly. "Where should I start?"

"That was our tenth birthday party. The servants decorated the manor carefully and prepared gifts for us. They said that if we wanted to get the gifts, we had to find them according to the map they drew." Charles smiled, "Then, while we were looking for the gifts, everything changed."

"A huge fire broke out in the manor. Painful howls could be heard everywhere. Familiar figures fell to the ground one after another. Red blood was everywhere. It was obviously cold, but it was still hot to the touch and almost burned people. Eric found his father's ring and told me that we were the only ones left in the Phantomhive family."

“Ciel…” Vincent closed his eyes gently. He didn’t even dare to think about what would happen to the two helpless children left in the Phantomhive family when he had offended almost all the nobles by himself.

"Eric and I met at the auction," Vincent heard Charles seemed to smile, "15 pounds, what a great Count Phantomhive! For only 15 pounds, I can get a taste of the two heirs of the Count!"

"Charles!" The smooth and neatly trimmed nails dug deep into his palms. The stabbing pain in his chest made Vincent almost unable to maintain his composure. The usually arrogant earl opened his mouth with a tone of dejection and frustration, but in the end he could only squeeze out one sentence: "And then?"

“We two have lived this disgusting life for a month. We have seen with our own eyes that one by one the boys who were locked in the cages with us turned into corpses and were dragged out and thrown away,” the boy’s voice did not stop. His voice was sweet and soft, as if mixed with the finest honey, but the strong malice in his words made Vincent feel cold in his heart.

"Until one day, Eric also died on the altar." Xia paused and gestured at his lower abdomen. "It was here that his blood covered the altar and almost drained out."

Looking at Vincent with pain in his eyes, Charles felt a secret pleasure in his heart, just like a child who was wronged outside and could not get rid of the sadness in his heart. He could only vent it madly to the person closest to him, hoping that he could feel the pain he had endured. He questioned him in an extremely obscure way and told him his grievances.

"I was seriously injured and it hurt so much. Why didn't you come?"

It felt like his heart was being kneaded by an invisible hand, or like countless fine needles were piercing it back and forth. Vincent's fingers couldn't help but tremble. His voice was dry, "Continue."

How did you escape?

Vincent couldn't imagine how much a child would have to pay to escape from the underground world?

"The demon summoned by the altar signed a contract with me and agreed to become the power of my revenge," Ciel said calmly, his dark blue eyes seemed to be swirling in darkness. "In return, after I complete my revenge, I will give him my soul as food."

Soul! Vincent felt as if his brain was hit by something.

"Ciel, I think I need evidence, demons or something..."

"Perhaps you know something about the identity of the undertaker?" Charles raised his eyebrows.

"Since there is already a god of death in this world, demons will certainly exist as well."

"How could you agree to this?" Vincent exhaled slowly and held out his hand to Charles. "That's a soul."

Without a soul, I'm afraid even reincarnation is impossible.

"Of course, it's to kill them." Charles turned his head slightly to avoid Vincent's touch, leaning back on the chair with a cold and arrogant expression, "I won't let anyone who humiliates me live in this world."

"Although the process was a bit tortuous, I succeeded, successfully inherited the title, and successfully completed my revenge."

"So," Vincent slowly withdrew his hand, "how long have you lived?"

It must be very hard, right? No one knows better than him how much responsibility and risk it takes to inherit the title of Phantomhive. He has also seen how difficult the people under him are. However, his youngest son has rebuilt the Phantomhive family on his own... I think the effort he put in during this period is almost immeasurable.

Vincent felt sad and proud. He naturally hoped that Charles could live long and long, but the reality was that it could not be changed by human power.

"I died when I was thirteen, and was eaten by a demon after I completed my revenge," Ciel shrugged casually, "but I don't know how it turned out like this."

Thirteen years old...still a child...

Vincent closed his eyes and suppressed all the pain in them. "Your tenth birthday has passed."

Vincent now hopes very much that his little son just had a nightmare, and nothing will happen when he wakes up... Otherwise, as a father who should have protected them from the wind and rain but pushed them into the abyss, how should he face this child covered with thorns and scars?

"But the enemies of the Phantomhive family have not disappeared." Ciel picked up a chess piece and knocked on the table. "I will provide you with a list of people who have attacked Phantomhive in my memory. However, as you said, our tenth birthday has passed safely, so you still need to investigate the details of the list yourself."

"of course."

"Also, if you don't mind, I hope you can give me the property you were going to give me in advance." Charles thought for a moment and added, "Of course, it would be even better if I could use my illness as an excuse to avoid those inexplicable social events on weekdays."

"The property you deserve will be transferred to your name in a few days," Vincent said after a moment of silence, "There are some occasions that require the participation of the whole family, so you will still be needed to show up."

"Yes, thank you, father. It's getting late, so I'll go down first." Charles bowed slightly to Vincent, and when he nodded to him, he pushed open the door of the small hall.

"Charles," Vincent, half of his face hidden in the shadows, suddenly spoke up and asked the question he had always wanted to ask, "Do you hate me?"

Charles paused but did not look back. Unlike the dim lights in the small hall, the lights in the long corridor were brighter, as if a layer of golden light was coated around him.

"No, I don't hate you," Vincent heard the young man in golden light say. "I just hope that father can take us two brothers with him before he goes to his death."

"After all, if that kind of thing happens again, I can't bear it."

The door of the room slowly closed, and when the boy left, he also took away the light that did not belong to this small room. Vincent, who always sat upright, seemed to have his spine broken, and leaned weakly on the sofa.

"Charles..." His soft murmur came from the empty room.