Inside an elegant tearoom in Chiba, two refined won sat gracefully, enjoying their afternoon tea.
They were kindred spirits—friends who understood each other's burdens perfectly. Today's eting wasn't rely a casual gathering for tea; it was also a chance to talk openly, to release the weight that ca with being the wives of powerful, noble families.
Especially for one of them—the woman who held full authority as the head of her household.
Her husband had married into her family rather than the other way around, for one simple reason: she was the only direct heir left of her generation.
So even as a woman, she bore the full weight of succession.
Every responsibility rested solely on her shoulders. Years of that burden had left scars that no one could see.
Monts like these—drinking tea, arranging flowers—were the few fragnts of peace she had left in a life of constant pressure.
A sharp crack broke the silence.
The sudden sound of shattering glass startled everyone present. The delicate porcelain teacup in one woman's hand had broken, spilling tea across the table and scattering shards onto the tatami.
"Mieko, are you all right?"
"It's nothing. The cup just… broke on its own. It startled too."
"You're not hurt, are you?"
"I'm fine. Just a small cut on my palm."
She opened her hand. Thin lines of blood glistened faintly across her skin, red against the pale surface.
The sight made the host's expression tighten with guilt. This was her chosen venue, her invitation. Such an incident was an embarrassnt—and a breach of trust.
"Attendant."
The sliding door opened with a soft rasp.
"Yes, Madam. How may I assist you?"
A woman with black hair entered, bowing politely at the doorway.
"Check where this tea set ca from."
"Right away, Madam."
The attendant's sharp eyes quickly took in the scene—the broken shards, the spilled tea, the guest's wounded hand. There was no need for further explanation. She bowed and left swiftly to investigate.
For an establishnt of this caliber—exclusive, expensive, and designed for the upper elite—such accidents were nearly impossible.
Every item, from the tea leaves to the porcelain cups, was supposed to be flawless. Any mishap could stain the establishnt's immaculate reputation.
"I'm really fine, Yukie. It's just a scratch," Mieko said softly.
"Don't say that, Mieko. This is entirely my fault. But don't worry—I'll take full responsibility."
"All right. But since my clothes are wet, I'll go change and tend to the wound."
"Of course. By the ti you return, the investigation should be finished."
"Understood."
After their polite exchange, 'Mieko' left the room.
But the mont the door slid shut behind her, her gentle, refined expression twisted into sothing sinister.
Her eyes turned crimson—pupils narrowing into the vertical slits of a serpent.
"Fools… all of them are fools. I gave them my blood, and yet they still died. In one single day—dead, one after another. Hantengu… Rui… utterly worthless trash."
Her voice dripped with contempt and fury. The calm, elegant woman had vanished.
This was Kibutsuji Muzan.
The progenitor of all demons.
The origin of darkness itself.
One of his greatest abilities was his power to alter his form at will—sotis a man, sotis a woman, sotis an adult, sotis a child.
His true form remained a mystery.
Here, in the modern city of Chiba, Muzan had chosen to live cautiously. Fearful of modern technology and human weapons, he adopted his usual tactic: blending among humans.
Just as he had done for centuries—changing nas, faces, and lives—all to pursue one goal: the Blue Spider Lily.
And once again, he played his role to perfection.
(Author's note: If acting awards existed for demons, Muzan would've swept every category—Best Actor, Best Actress, and Best Child Role.)
"If I rember correctly, Rui was last stationed in a village outside Chiba. It started with the slaughter of lower demons… then Lower Rank Six, Upper Rank Six, and now even Upper Rank Four. That Demon Slayer… must be here in Chiba."
The atmosphere around Muzan darkened, a suffocating murderous intent filling the air.
Before his arrival in this world, not a single Upper Rank had ever been slain by human hands.
When one did die, it was only from internal conflict—never by a Demon Slayer.
But now…
He had only been in this world for a few days, and already two Upper Ranks were gone.
"From this mont, all demons are to return to Chiba. Every mber of the Twelve Kizuki—Upper and Lower Ranks alike. Within seven days, all must assemble."
The command resonated through the Blood Curse that linked Muzan to every demon in existence.
Instantly, the ssage spread across Japan.
Every demon—every one of his servants—felt the overwhelming presence of their master's will. The order was absolute:
Return to Chiba within seven days. No exceptions.
Even the Twelve Kizuki, the most powerful of all, received the sa decree.
What they didn't know, however, was that two of their Upper Ranks and two Lower Ranks had already been annihilated.
Soon after, Kibutsuji Muzan composed himself once more.
Gracefully, he entered a private dressing room—filled with everything a human might need.
Won's dresses, n's suits, even undergarnts—ticulously arranged.
The shallow cuts on his hand had already healed, but he still wrapped them in a thin bandage for show.
After all, he still had to play the role of Mieko. Unless absolutely necessary, he would never expose his true identity.
Especially in this modern era—where caras watched from every corner, and everyone carried smartphones—any slip could an disaster.
If humanity discovered his existence, it would trigger chaos beyond repair.
Yes—no matter how powerful he was, the "Cowardly Demon King" remained true to his na.
In the art of caution and self-preservation, no one surpassed Kibutsuji Muzan.
"Mieko, you're back."
A soft, welcoming voice called from the tearoom.
"I'm back, Yukie."
"I had it investigated. It seems the incident was just an accident. The tea set was custom-made, but perhaps that one cup had a flaw."
"It's all right. Maybe I was just unlucky today."
"Don't say that. I was the one who invited you here—it's entirely my fault. Let's do this instead: in our family's upcoming business partnership, the Yukinoshita group will offer an additional one percent of profit. Consider it my apology."
Yukinoshita Yukie—the current head of the Yukinoshita family.
Mother of Yukinoshita Yukino and Yukinoshita Haruno.
And in this world—the adoptive mother of Yukinoshita Akira.
"That's too much. I'm not worth that. One percent profit—"
"Enough. No more objections. It's already decided."
Yukinoshita Yukie's tone was calm but resolute—leaving no room for argunt.
What she didn't realize, however, was that the woman sitting across from her… was gazing at her with pure, murderous intent.
The thought echoed in Muzan's mind like venom.
A scratch on my hand… is worth only one percent profit?
His lips curved into a faint, dangerous smile.
The kind of smile only Kibutsuji Muzan could make—
the smile of a god looking down on insects.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
Read ahead and support the story on Patreon:
🔗 patreon/FaaanzKun
✅ 115 chapters ahead of WebNovel
✅ 2 new chapters every day (Monday–Saturday), exclusive on Patreon
Thank you all so much for your amazing support 💖
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
User Comments
0 comments from readers