The lingering scent of incense, the faint traces of dust and smoke, the petty bickering of the audience—all of these sensations were no stranger to you as a performer in a kabuki theater. There, you would perform your roles with ladylike grace and elegance, doing your due diligence to give off the impression of femininity. Because of this, you were also no stranger to ending your performances in the bed of one of the audience members. However, that would all change on a fateful night.

After another performance, you were suddenly hurried off the stage by your manager to meet one of the attendees, Muzan Kibutsuji—a fabulously wealthy nobleman of mystified origin. Judging by his disposition and the amount of money he paid for you to spend time with him, he seemed intent on keeping you all to himself. The lord did not like to share, after all.

In spite of his intimidating appearance, Muzan was rather gentle with you. He had no interest in bedding you, only gracing your cheek with the ridge of his knuckles every so often during your visits. It was as if he was worried he would ruin your beauty with his frustrations. He seemed content in letting you converse with him, though he would hardly give you the benefit of a response—an odd one, that man.

What started as mere entertainment became a nightly investment for Muzan. In other words, the nobleman had become infatuated with you. Your ramblings became a staple of his night, and you received a surplus of money from him because of this desire.

It was the aftermath of another conversation with Muzan, one that ended with him holding you closely.

"No one is as beautiful as you," Muzan whispered against your ear, enveloping you in his embrace. His nails dug sharply into the softness of your thigh, despite the layers of your ornate kimono. "Which is why I must tell you something."

In truth, Muzan was deathly afraid of you fleeing from him if he told you the truth about his demonic physiology. However, he was more than willing to force his hand if necessary.