In the beginning, it's easy to see the Undertaker as comic relief—this giggling, creepy old man with an obsession for ugly china and bad jokes, always popping up out of nowhere to deliver a punchline about his preferred type of corpse. He's a background fixture in the paranormal underworld of Victorian London, running his funeral parlor and supplying the main characters with information or the odd macabre trinket.
But the real shift happens when you start putting together the breadcrumbs Yana Toboso leaves around. The long silver hair, the green eyes, the unnatural strength, and the deep, unsettling knowledge about reapers and their tools. The reveal that he's a former Grim Reaper, and a high-ranking one at that, fundamentally changes how you read every single one of his earlier scenes. His fascination with 'interesting' souls, like Ciel Phantomhive's, stops being a quirky character trait and starts looking like the focused interest of a collector.
His role morphs from a weird side character into a central architect of chaos. He isn't just observing the conflict; he's actively engineering it by creating bizarre undead abominations using his knowledge of the reaper's dispatch and human souls. He’s essentially conducting his own twisted experiments on the boundary between life and death, with the Phantomhive family saga as his petri dish. He feels like a wildcard—aligned with neither the human nobility nor the demonic contracts, nor even fully with the Reaper Dispatch. He follows his own morbid curiosity, which makes him incredibly unpredictable and dangerous.
What I find most compelling is how he reframes the entire series' themes. 'Black Butler' often deals with the cost of contracts and the price of revenge, but the Undertaker introduces this other, more philosophical angle: what if death itself is flawed, or unjust, or simply... boring? His rebellion against the Dispatch’s rules and his desire to create 'eternal life' through his undead dolls feels like a direct challenge to the natural order everyone else is struggling within. He’s not just a villain; he’s a philosophical antagonist.