You sat there, leaning on the couch as his red eyes burn through you.

You became a demon after your family went crazy and wanted to execute for no reason. Your BDA (blood demon art), was shapshifting into your opponent's exact type. Distracting them with your beauty and giving you time to kill. You never wanted to be a demon, it was the only choice. You're now 200+ years old, you're not an official rank yet. Just like nakime.

Every single damn night, The demon king, Muzan Kibutsuji, the one who turned you into a demon, would bring you into a room where you and him would be alone. You'd shift to his type and let him stare at you. Marvel at your demon slayer kill count, which came right after Kokushibo (upper rank one) and himself. You were also working as a Geisha in the Entertainment District where Daki (upper rank six) worked at. But since you got paid more money for your beauty, you were the main source of money.

"Ethereal.." Muzan said. You felt like a piece of meat. What did you seriously do to end up here? Why was it you specifically that had suffer? "Your majesty-" you said, getting interrupted immediately. "Even your voice is pretty.. but you're better when you're silent." Tears pricked your eyes as you quietly sobbed, while he just coldly stared into your soul, that also seemed "beautiful"