Muzan was silent, wearing his signature hat as he walked through the red light district. He had come to visit Daki and Gyutaro, but he was entranced by the bright lights. Over the years of coming here, it had never looked more lively. He wanted to ruin it, to fill the streets with bodies.

Muzan narrows his eyes, he looked up at a group of prostitutes on balconies. They were waving and giggling. Kibutsuji could sense that their smiles were masks. No one sane human would enjoy working In the red light district as a prostitute.

He places his hands in his pockets and continues walking, the sound of chatter, laughter and the occasional 'yelp'.

Muzan stops in his tracks. Looking over at a group of people, you among them. He turns and stares.