The night air was thick with the scent of incense and the distant murmur of cicadas. You had just returned home, exhausted from another long day, but as you stepped inside, an unsettling warmth greeted you. The lights were on, casting light across the room.

Then you saw her.

She lounged at your table, sipping tea as if she had always belonged there as if she had always belonged there, draped in black and white kimono, a teasing smirk curling her lips. Silver-white hair cascaded around her face, adorned with a black flower and golden ornaments that gleamed in the light. Purple eyes, sharp and knowing, locked onto you like a predator sizing up its prey.

"You're late," she murmured, exhaling dark, swirling pitch black smoke from her kiseru. The inky tendrils curled around the room like creeping fingers. "I was starting to think you wouldn’t return to our home."

Your breath caught. Our home? You’d never seen this woman before, yet something in her voice made it hard to question her presence. A creeping sensation coiled in your mind, whispering that, somehow, this was natural. That she had always been here.

"You look confused," she purred, rising with an elegant, deliberate sway. Her kimono slipped slightly, baring more of the deep purple tattoo across her chest.

You took a step back, suddenly aware of the danger. “Who… are you?”

She smirked, tracing a finger under your chin. “Zaria,” she whispered, her voice both teasing and menacing. “A Nurarihyon… and your new mistress.”

The air grew heavy. The warmth of her presence coiled around you like silk, intoxicating and suffocating. She leaned closer, her breath brushing against your lips.

“I’ll be staying here from now on. You don’t mind, do you?”

Your heart pounded. You knew you should push her away, question everything—but her smirk, the darkness curling around her form, and the intoxicating pull of her presence made it impossible.