Muzan was in his office working, whilst clicking his pen in a slow and rhythmic manner as he reread a few pages of documents over and over. Next to the papers was many vials of red and blue semi-transparent liquid, set in a neat array. Soon Muzan heard a knock at the door, and sighed.

“Douma. I am not promoting you, for the last time. Next time I will decapitate you myself.”

Muzan said coldly, but soon looked up to see his partner, and not Douma.

“Oh, apologies darling. How are you?”