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[ 30+ Advance chapter in Patreon]
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After returning to Infinite City, I felt strangely heavy-hearted. My chest felt like it had been pierced, and a deep unease settled over me. I locked myself in my room and didn't leave for ten days.
"Master Muzan… you haven't had any blood in nearly ten days…"
Kokushibo's voice broke the silence. He knelt outside my door, holding a tray. He hadn't done anything wrong—he'd simply stayed there the entire time I shut myself away.
I had told him to leave, but Kokushibo, disciplined as ever, wouldn't break my orders out of disrespect.
"You… come in," I whispered weakly from inside the room. My voice was barely audible, like a faint whimper.
Even so, Kokushibo heard it clearly. His head lifted, and a flicker of joy passed through his six eyes.
"Yes…"
He opened the door gently and stepped inside. The room wasn't large; just a few steps to the bed.
I was lying on the bed, naked for comfort. I hadn't trained for a while, so my body wasn't strong—no bulky muscles, just slender and delicate. My hair, uncombed, draped over my shoulders. My red, slit-pupil eyes were lowered as I looked at Kokushibo.
He stood there holding the tray, staring at me. For some reason, a blush spread across his face, and his ears reddened.
Lord Muzan… so… beautiful…
The thought shocked him, and his body trembled. He muttered silently to himself:
No! Master Muzan is a man! Thinking like this is an insult!
I watched him stand there, trembling, eyes shining, and felt a flicker of confusion.
What's gotten into him?
I didn't use my mind-reading ability—normally useful for sensing ghosts—because I wasn't in the mood. Yet seeing Kokushibo like this made me curious.
Noticing my gaze, Kokushibo quickly tried to steady himself. He opened his mouth to speak, but I interrupted:
"Hand me the blood bag."
He trembled, then his eyes widened in surprise. Swiftly, he picked up a blood bag, cut a hole in it, and handed it to me.
I leaned against the bed and drank it all. Honestly, if I hadn't taken it, I might have starved to death within a few more days.
Wiping the blood from my lips with my fingers, I noticed the red looked striking against my face, almost feminine.
Is this… an angel?
(No. This is your terrible boss.)
I cleared my throat, uneasy with his stare.
"Black Death."
Kokushibo immediately dropped to a half-kneel. I continued:
"I have a task for you. Do you accept it?"
"I'll do anything for Master Muzan," he replied without hesitation.
I blinked at him, rubbing my eyes, and thought, Why does he look like I'm about to betray him?
"Watch Douma closely for the next few years. Whatever he does—monitor him."
"Yes, Master!"
He didn't question me. Kokushibo obeyed instantly.
"That's all. You may go."
"Lord Muzan… you…"
He glanced at me, then down at the tray with two or three blood bags and a cup of hot coffee.
"You go first. I'll eat afterward."
He gently placed the tray on the table, bowed, and said,
"Please take care of yourself, sir."
And he left. The room was silent again. I sighed, thinking of the look in the eyes of the two brothers.
It's done. There's no undoing it now.
I picked up a blood bag from the table, bit it open, and drank it all
A few years later.
I saw Kanae Kocho. It was drizzling, and faint flashes of lightning lit the sky. I wasn't really there—I was seeing it through Kokushibo's perspective.
And somehow, that perspective made it feel like I was lying down.
"Pfft… hahaha!"
I couldn't help laughing. I was sitting in the Infinite Castle, playing with the cat, when Kokushibo transmitted the scene to my mind. Once I understood, I activated the shared vision and saw it clearly.
I paused, stopped laughing, and carefully watched Kanae through Kokushibo's eyes.
Her hair was black, her eyes purple, and she wore the emerald-green butterfly hairpins with pink edges. She had on the standard Demon Slayer uniform with gold buttons, and her colorful butterfly-patterned haori draped elegantly over her shoulders.
Normally, she was gentle and always smiling. But now, there was no smile. Her body was covered in blood and riddled with wounds.
"Blood Demon Art: Winter Icicle!"
It was Douma's voice. Even through shared vision, I could hear it clearly.
He cut his wrist, froze the blood into mist-like crystals, and waved the iron fan in his hand. Sharp icicles formed above Kanae and fell like a deadly rain.
"Flower Breathing: Sixth Form—Uzumaki!"
Kanae swung her Sun Blade, petals flying with each slash. She flipped sideways midair, cutting nearly half the icicles into pieces. The rest fell toward where she landed.
She had no time to dodge. She could only back up a few steps, but one icicle pierced her left shoulder, freezing the wound with Douma's poison.
I couldn't believe it.
"Wait… didn't Douma say he liked her? Why is he attacking her like this? It's like they're enemies!"
Sir, do you want to intervene…?
Kokushibo's voice came through my mind, calm as always.
"No. I'll handle this myself."
I stopped petting the cat and glanced at the upper corner. Through the walls, Mingnu sat on an empty table, holding her pipa.
"Blood Demon Art: Blood Shadow Clone!"
Originally, this blood magic could only create ten clones. But after nearly a hundred years of practice, I could make thirty.
This time, I only needed one. Not arrogance—I had confidence I could save Kanae Kocho from Douma.
I reshaped the clone's face to be unrecognizable, but its blood-red eyes remained. I wrapped a white cloth over its eyes and dressed it in a Demon Slayer uniform with a haori embroidered in red spider lilies.
Mingnu plucked her pipa strings, using her blood magic to teleport the clone directly to the battlefield.
Kanae adjusted her breathing, trying to ignore the pain from her poisoned left arm. Her eyes never left Douma.
He looked at her, smiling slyly.
"Why not accept it? Become a demon with me… then we could be together forever…"
Kanae didn't answer. She gripped her sword tightly.
Douma's smile vanished, replaced with cold ruthlessness.
"Tsk… as expected, you… can't replace her."
I thought her gentleness might rival the woman Douma always cherished, but I was dreaming. Some things can't be replaced…
"Blood Demon Art…"
Kanae braced herself, ready to fight to the death. Then a snow-white, slender hand pressed against her arm.
She turned to see a figure in a Demon Slayer uniform, eyes covered with a white cloth.
It's a ghost! How… did I not sense him?
The ghost's hand glowed red. The light spread over her body. She tried to pull away but couldn't.
Then she noticed—she wasn't hurt. Her wounds were healing, and the poison was fading.
Douma frowned.
"Why bother, Fugitive?"
(Fugitive—a ghost that escaped my control.)
I released Kanae's arm, but the red light stayed. I slowly approached Douma, smiling faintly.
"I want her, Douma."
"Who are you?"
Before he could react, I tore half of Douma's body apart.
Kanae gasped, stunned. She hadn't even noticed my attack until it was done.
Who… is he? Is he Upper Rank One?
Kokushibo observed from afar, analyzing every move.
Master Muzan… he's incredibly strong.
I looked at Douma, who was recovering quickly, my tone cold and filled with malice.
"The next strike will be your neck."
Douma wiped blood from his body, smiling harmlessly.
"Lord Muzan, shouldn't I at least have a chance to speak? Fighting like this is rude."
He twirled his golden iron fan.
"It's fun to face someone strong, other than Kokushibo or you, Lord Muzan."
I glanced at the sky—dawn was coming.
"It's almost sunrise. Are you going to die here for this human, Douma? Or can you defeat me before the sun rises?"
Douma realized he couldn't win in time. He glared, unable to answer.
"Your name?" he demanded.
I wiped my bloody hand with a handkerchief.
"I have no name. Call me 'Traveler.'"
Douma seethed, trying to etch my name into his mind.
"I'll remember this!"
He folded his fan and retreated quickly.
I checked the light creeping in and sent a thought to Kokushibo.
You can go back now. Mission complete. You'll be rewarded.
Kokushibo's body shivered at the word reward.
I approached Kanae. Her body had healed, so I withdrew the red light. She looked up at me, trying to speak—but she collapsed from exhaustion.
Blood magic heals wounds but not strength. I crouched to check her, but a thin blade stopped me—Shinobu Kocho's Nichirin Sword.
Ah… right. Shinobu. I should've left earlier.
I stepped back. Shinobu squatted near Kanae, observing carefully. Seeing her sister unharmed, she relaxed slightly, gripping her sword tightly.
"Muzan! Why are you here?!"
How did she recognize me?
I feigned confusion.
"Who is Muzan…"
"Don't lie! Even if your face changed, your scent hasn't!"
Shinobu knew because of the scent—she remembered the two brothers back then.
Ah… how could I have forgotten?
"Fine. But I didn't hurt your sister. Her injuries were healed by me. Ask her when she wakes. Now, goodbye!"
I left in under three seconds, before the sunlight could reach me. As I departed, I said over my shoulder:
"Ms. Shinobu Kocho, learn from your sister. You have a bit of a temper."
Shinobu watched me go, sheathing her sword. She approached her sister, thinking about my words.
Learn from my sister? What… does that mean?