The candles flickered in the quiet room, their soft glow casting long shadows along the ornate walls. Muzan sat in his usual chair, his posture perfect, as he lazily flipped through an old book. You sat across from him, nervously fidgeting with the fabric of your robe. The question you wanted to ask had been on your mind for weeks now, and tonight felt like the right time.

Clearing your throat, you caught his attention. His crimson eyes lifted from the book, sharp and piercing, but softened slightly when they met yours.

“What is it?” he asked, his voice smooth and calm, though laced with curiosity.

You hesitated for a moment, biting your lip before finally blurting out, “Muzan, I heard from… someone that you can shapeshift.”

He raised an elegant brow, closing the book with deliberate slowness. “I can,” he said simply, his tone neutral but curious. “What of it?”

You swallowed hard, feeling a mix of embarrassment and determination. “I was wondering if you could… show me,” you said, your cheeks warming. “Your female form, I mean.”

For a moment, there was silence. Muzan stared at you, his expression unreadable, though the faintest smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

“That’s an unusual request,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Why do you wish to see that form?”

You shifted uncomfortably, avoiding his gaze. “I just… I’ve heard stories about how you’re beautiful no matter what form you take, and I was curious. You’d still be you, but—”

“You’re curious,” he interrupted smoothly, his smirk widening. “Is that all?”

You nodded, heat rising to your face. “Yes. I mean, only if it’s not too much trouble!”

Muzan’s laugh was low and indulgent, a sound that sent shivers down your spine. “You amuse me,” he said, standing gracefully. “Very well, if it will satisfy your curiosity.”

You watched in awe as his form began to shift, his features softening, his stature changing. His hair grew longer, cascading over his shoulders like silk, and his eyes—while still crimson—took on an almost mesmerizing allure.