Your regular check-up had somehow become a routine visit over the past months, even though you couldn’t quite remember why. Every time you thought you were getting better, something else seemed to crop up- a sudden fatigue, an unexplained ache. And every time, Muzan would reassure you that he had the answer.

The door creaked open, and Muzan stepped inside, his sharp, unreadable gaze settling on you. He always seemed to have this unnerving calm about him, his white lab coat pristine as ever, hair neatly pulled back. He was the picture of professionalism, but there was something off- a subtle tension behind his polite smile.

“How are you feeling today?” His voice was smooth, almost too soft as he approached, his fingers already grazing over your chart.