Inside the glittering expanse of the hotel's grand ballroom, a lavish cocktail reception was in full swing.
Crystal chandeliers dripped light from the high ceilings, casting a brilliant sheen across the marble floors and the priceless art adorning the walls.
The air was a heavy, intoxicating blend of champagne, expensive cigars, and designer perfume.
Here, the nation's elite gathered.
Elegantly dressed government officials, nobles, and the heads of powerful corporations moved through the room with practiced grace.
They held delicate wine glasses, wore perfectly composed smiles, and exchanged pleasantries in hushed tones over the melodic strains of a string quartet.
It was a carefully constructed portrait of peace and prosperity, a world of power and wealth far removed from the lives of ordinary people.
But beneath the shimmering surface, dangerous undercurrents were churning.
In a secluded corner of a terrace, overlooking the glittering spectacle below, two figures sat across from each other.
One was Councillor Fujiwara Yusuke, an influential figure in the Ministry of Communications.
He was a man in his fifties, slightly overweight, with his hair slicked back with meticulous care.
His face was etched with the practiced reservation of a man long accustomed to power, but tonight, it was marred by a subtle, anxious sheen of sweat.
Across from him sat a man who seemed perfectly at ease in a tailored dark suit.
He was handsome, with a scholarly air about him, and a gentle, disarming smile that never seemed to leave his lips.
But behind his gold-rimmed glasses, his deep brown eyes would occasionally flash with an inhuman coldness, a detached amusement, as if he were watching a meticulously staged play unfold just for him.
He swirled the amber liquid in his glass, not drinking, but simply enjoying its rich aroma.
"Kamaro-san," Councillor Fujiwara began, his voice a low, nervous tremor that held both excitement and fear.
"The… effects were astonishing. Like something from a dream. But what you're asking me to do in return… it's too dangerous! I don't have the kind of power to interfere with military affairs, and certain cabinet departments are already starting to ask questions."
"Danger?" The man known as Kamaro chuckled, a soft, magnetic sound that held a strangely calming quality.
"Councillor Fujiwara, with all due respect, isn't your entire world built on danger? Political infighting, shifting alliances… one wrong step and you lose everything. A colleague who seems invincible one day can be ruined by a scandal the next, or simply… disappear."
He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that felt both intimate and menacing.
"What you truly desire, is it not the power to control that danger? To turn it into your own strength?"
Fujiwara Yusuke swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry.
The man's words struck the very core of his deepest ambitions and fears.
He had seen too many powerful men fall, and his obsession with holding onto his position was matched only by his profound insecurity.
"That… that 'Wine of Immortality' you gave me," Fujiwara rasped, his voice trembling with a raw, undeniable greed.
"…Can I have more? The last dose… the effect is starting to fade…"
Kamaro's smile widened.
It was the quiet, satisfied expression of a hunter watching his prey walk willingly into a trap.
"Of course, Councillor. You are a valued partner. The 'Wine of Immortality' can halt your aging, grant you boundless energy to navigate the political arena, and shield you from plots both seen and unseen. It can even grant you… other, more special abilities." He paused, letting the words hang in the air as he savored the burgeoning desire in the politician's eyes.
"However, the most precious things in life always require the most careful payment."
A cold dread washed over Fujiwara. "What else do you want? Our agreement was that I would handle matters within the Ministry of Communications. I can't influence the military. The best I can do is introduce you to a few generals."
"Don't worry, Councillor. We don't need you to move mountains. Just… a little convenience," Kamaro said, his voice so gentle it nearly blended with the distant music.
"For a man in your position, these are trivial things. A signature on a document, a voiced opinion at the right meeting, or perhaps simply looking the other way when certain files cross your desk."
Then, as Fujiwara watched with growing unease, Kamaro laid out his requests.
An adjustment to night patrol schedules in several specific districts.
The authorization to permanently seal a handful of old, forgotten case files and missing persons reports.
A proposal for special monitoring and asset restrictions on a few ancient, declining families.
The more Fujiwara listened, the more his stomach twisted.
The requests seemed random, almost nonsensical on their own.
But his political instincts, honed over decades, screamed that they were pieces of a puzzle with an unimaginably dangerous purpose.
This was no ordinary bribery scheme.
"What… What are you planning?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper, the suspicion in his eyes deepening.
Kamaro's gentle smile never wavered, but the inhuman coldness behind his glasses seemed to expand, becoming an endless, dark abyss.
"Councillor, for some questions, knowing the answer is the greatest danger of all. You only need to know that by working with us, you will receive the vitality, the security, and the long road to power you've always craved. Refusing…" He wagged a finger playfully, a graceful but chilling gesture.
"Well, I imagine you have no desire to experience the consequences of that."
Fujiwara shuddered violently.
He remembered the incredible rush of energy and clarity the "wine" had given him, a feeling of youthful power he hadn't known in thirty years.
But he also remembered the creeping, gnawing hollowness that followed as it wore off, a feeling like his very life force was being siphoned away.
The withdrawal was a more terrifying threat than any weapon.
It was a perfectly designed addiction, one that preyed not on the desire for pleasure, but on the primal fear of pain.
Kamaro waited patiently, like a spider watching a fly struggle in its web.
He enjoyed this part—the moment these self-important humans wrestled with their greed and their fear, only to inevitably sacrifice their principles, their loyalties, their very souls.
"...What… what do I need to do?"
Finally, Fujiwara's voice emerged, hoarse and heavy with resigned despair, yet still laced with a pathetic flicker of avarice.
The smile on Kamaro's face at last reached his eyes.
It was the cruel, triumphant smile of a predator.
Councillor Fujiwara was not the first powerful human he had broken, and he certainly wouldn't be the last.
Demon Slayer Corps, he thought to himself with a private, mocking laugh.
'Let's see how you respond when the very system you seek to protect begins to work against you.'
As if trying to prove his newfound worth, Fujiwara leaned in.
"By the way, Kamaro-san, there is one more thing. The Moriki Group, the one that's been making such big waves in the business world? I've heard from reliable sources that they've been in contact with quite a few high-level military and political figures recently."