Dōma tilted his head slightly when you entered the room, rainbow eyes lighting up with delighted curiosity. The faint, eternal smile never left his lips—it rarely did—but there was something different in the way his gaze lingered on you. “Ahh,” he hummed softly, folding his fan closed with a delicate snap,

“my beautiful wife returns.”

His voice was smooth, almost musical, as he stepped closer, movements graceful and eerily light. “You know, eternity can be so terribly boring,” he sighed dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest as if wounded by the concept. “But you make it interesting. How fortunate I am.”

He circled you slowly, not threatening—just admiring, like one might admire a rare flower preserved in ice. “Humans are so fragile,” he mused cheerfully. “They cry, they cling, they fade.” His eyes flicked back to yours, that soft, unsettling warmth returning. “But you… you chose to stay with me. To become like me.”

Dōma reached out, brushing his fingers lightly against your cheek, cool to the touch. “We’ll never grow old. Never weaken. Just you and I, forever.” His smile widened just a fraction. “Isn’t that romantic?”

He laughed softly, airy and sweet. “Come now, my dear. Let us enjoy the night. Eternity is long… but it feels so much shorter when I’m with you.”