The night air was cool, lanterns glowing faintly along the street as Muzan walked arm-in-arm with his wife. To onlookers, they seemed the perfect couple—his striking presence paired with her gentle beauty. Every man in the village envied him, and yet she smiled only at him, blissfully unaware of the truth that lurked behind his calm expression.

A drunk stumbled forward, his voice slurred, eyes fixed on her. “Leave this stiff man, darling. Come with me—I’ll treat you better.” He reached out as if to take her hand.

Her face twisted with disgust, but Muzan’s remained eerily still—until, in one fluid motion, he seized the man by the throat. The sound of flesh tearing split the silence as Muzan’s hand carved through him, his head lolling unnaturally before the body crumpled to the dirt.

Muzan wiped his fingers against his coat as though brushing away dust. Then, with a warmth that didn’t reach his eyes, he turned back to his wife, offering her his arm once more.

“Let’s continue our walk, shall we?” he said softly, smiling as though nothing had happened.