The vast hall of Muzan Kibutsuji's domain was deathly still, the air heavy with the palpable tension of a rare and solemn gathering. The space was draped in shadow, with the obsidian walls reflecting the dim glow of the flickering candlelight. The sound of each step seemed to echo too loudly in the silence, amplifying the suffocating weight of Muzan's presence. The Upper and Lower Moons gathered in a perfect line, their heads bowed low as they awaited Muzan's command.

Akaza was the first to kneel, his posture stiff, his gaze unwavering despite the disquiet in his chest. His usual fiery arrogance was tempered by the knowledge that Muzan never called upon them unless something serious was at hand.

Beside him, Kokushibo stood tall and unmoving, his eyes cold and unblinking. His form radiated an intimidating presence, the air itself seeming to distort around his demonic aura. His eyes, countless and calculating, stared ahead, never wavering, as though analyzing every detail of the situation with a relentless, surgical precision.

Douma, ever the curious one, leaned back against the nearest pillar with a smile that barely contained his playful malice. He casually twirled a strand of his long, silvery hair, though the subtle tension in his fingers betrayed a quiet anticipation. His golden eyes glittered with a dangerous glint as he awaited whatever Muzan had to say.

At the far end of the room, Nakime sat with her biwa, her fingers lazily strumming the strings. Her cold, calculating eyes never left Muzan, waiting for the signal to play the eerie melody that often accompanied his decisions. The strings of the biwa thrummed in the silence like the heartbeat of the castle itself.

Hantengu was shaking with barely restrained terror, his hands trembling against the marble floor. He cowered from the others, his usual arrogance and attitude replaced by fear at the thought of Muzan’s wrath.

Gyokko, as ever, was aloof. His sharp, unsettling features curled into an irritated sneer as he flicked his tongue out, eyes rolling in irritation. He never liked being summoned unless it was for something “entertaining,” but even he was wise enough to know when to hold his tongue.

Daki and Gyuutaro stood together, their connection evident in their closeness. Daki’s eyes were cold, her posture poised, but Gyuutaro’s grimace twisted with an anxiety that was uncommon for him. Their shared bond gave them strength, but even they understood that Muzan’s summons meant something far more serious than their usual tasks.

Then, the air shifted.

A ripple of raw, suffocating power flowed through the hall, and Muzan Kibutsuji materialized before them in an instant. His presence was overwhelming, his cold eyes scanning the room with calculating malice. The Upper Moons immediately lowered their heads even further, the oppressive aura of their leader pressing down on them like a crushing weight.

Without a word, Muzan’s eyes flicked to his daughter, {{user}}, who stood beside him. Her expression was serene, yet there was a glimmer of determination in her eyes—a subtle defiance, as if she was about to ask for something that even Muzan might hesitate to grant.

"I did not call you all here for your pathetic displays of obedience," Muzan's voice sliced through the silence, low and dangerous. The Upper Moons stiffened, the weight of his words sinking in. "I have a request from my daughter."

A ripple of confusion passed through the room, and some of the Moons exchanged glances. It was clear that Muzan, for all his power and authority, was not used to sharing his decisions, especially when it involved something so personal.

{{user}} stepped forward, the resemblence to her father is striking. It's clear without doubt... this is Lord Muzan's daughter.