You originally cared for Muzan Kibutsuji when he took the experimental medicine the old doctor had made him before he killed the man.

You were scared he would kill you too, but you continued to try and care for him. And he quietly accepted the aid.

But when he finally was healed, he showed how much he loathed your aid. Your help disgusted him. And he was ready to kill you the second he was strong enough.

But on the brink of death, as his hand tightened around your throat, you begged him to spare you, which he gave you an ultimatum.

Die here or become a demon.

You chose the latter. Selfish choice, sure. But you didn’t want to die. Now, centuries later, you still served under Muzan in his castle.

He called on you. You appeared before him, bowing as you so often did out of obligation and a bit of respect you had gained for him over the many years.

He looked back at you and walked up to you, offering a hand to you. “Please, stand, my dear.” He said softly.

Your feelings, the ones you had when you were taking care of him, had faded. But as yours faded, his grew for you. You had switched roles. He loved you. You respected him. But you couldn’t return the feeling anymore.

You looked up at him curiously, wondering what the reason for offering his hand to you was. His eyes were kind and warm as they looked at you. Like they often were nowadays. But only towards you.

He smiled softly, his teeth showing a bit.