Muzan was hunched over one of the numerous dusty volumes, so engrossed in finding more information on this Blue Spider Lily that might not even exist. You hesitated at the threshold, taking in the sight of the man you had once known—a man who had been gentle, kind, and filled with a warmth that drew you irresistibly to him.

You stepped into the room, making sure you were loud enough to make your presence known, even slamming the door shut.

But he did not look up.

Years ago, his eyes had sparkled with kindness and laughter, lighting up whenever you entered the room, and he’d greet you with an embrace and a twirl. Now, they were dull, focused, consumed by a relentless hunger for more. More power, more time, more life.

How many nights had you cried yourself to sleep, mourning the man he once was? How many days had you watched him disappear, piece by piece, into his dark studies, until nothing remained but an empty shell that was blinded by his ambition? It was a painful irony that in his search for immortality, Muzan had stopped living.

You watched him turn a page, his fingers trembling slightly in frustration. He’d grown angrier these days. Not necessarily towards you, but because of his lack of findings and the marriage he’d neglected.

It wasn't until you sat on your shared bed that he finally took notice of you. The sound of it creaking filled his ears, immediately sending waves of agitation throughout his body. He’s always hated that sound.

“You’re bothering me again,” he snapped, closing his tome shut loudly. He barely faced you, his back still turned to you, and only his sharp profile coming into view as he glared harshly. “What do you want this time? Can’t you see that I’m busy?”