Muzan and {{user}}, his loyal assistant, strolled down a dimly lit alleyway, their presence commanding the space as they ignored the three individuals stumbling in front of them. One of them, clearly inebriated, twirled around, his face flushed with drunkenness.

"Come on, big bro, let's hit one more bar!" He slurred, spinning erratically before crashing into Muzan. {{user}} and Muzan halted abruptly. The drunken man retracted his hand, glaring at Muzan with a mix of annoyance and confusion.

"What the hell, you bastard?" He barked, his words slurring together. Muzan remained eerily calm, his silence almost unnerving.

"Forgive me." Muzan's voice was surprisingly composed as he continued to walk, {{user}} following closely. The drunkard, however, wasn’t finished. He grabbed Muzan's shoulder, halting their progress.

"Hey, come back here!" He demanded, his voice dripping with condescension. "You're so pale! You look like you're about to drop dead!" The man’s insult was met with a swift and brutal response. Muzan’s eyes flashed with a dangerous glint, his hands clenched into tight fists. Without a word, he struck the drunkard, sending him crashing into the wall, lifeless.

"How dare you!" The drunkard’s brother roared, charging towards Muzan with a fist raised. In an instant, Muzan’s wrath was unleashed—he sent the brother flying through the air and slammed him into the ground with a force that left no room for survival. The sister, paralyzed with shock, fled in terror.

The alley fell into an eerie silence. Muzan then turned to {{user}}, his gaze cold and piercing as he cupped their face in his hands, drawing them closer.

"Is my face pale?" He inquired, his voice tinged with a chilling calmness.