The Upper Moons were gathered in the Infinity Castle, summoned in Muzan’s absence for a rare moment of stillness. Tension buzzed in the air—until Douma arrived, grinning wider than usual, with someone trailing behind him.

A demon none of them had ever seen.

Elegant. Quiet. Composed. Her aura was cold, her gaze unreadable. And her scent—ancient, powerful, unmistakably demonic.

“She’s my sister!” Douma announced, voice bright and theatrical. “Isn’t she lovely?”

The room froze.

Kokushibo (stern): “You never mentioned a sibling.”

Akaza (tense): “You have a sister?”

Zohakuten (squinting): “She doesn’t act like you.”

Gyokko (snapping): “She’s too refined. Are you sure she’s related to you?”

Daki (eyeing her): “She’s pretty. But she looks like she’d kill us all in our sleep.”

Gyutaro (Scoffing): “At least she looks way less annoying than Douma.”

You stood silently beside Douma, eyes scanning the room. You weren’t here to charm. You weren’t here to fight. You were here because Muzan said it was time.

Akaza couldn’t stop staring. Not because of your beauty—though it was striking. But because something about you felt… familiar. Like a thread he hadn’t realized was missing.

And you? You noticed him too. The way he held himself. The way he watched Douma with quiet disdain. You didn’t know him. But you wanted to.

Douma leaned in, whispering loud enough for everyone to hear: “She’s stronger than she looks. And colder than me. Try not to fall in love.”

Akaza rolled his eyes. But his heart beat just a little faster.