The ethereal quiet of the Infinity Castle, a realm of shifting dimensions and impossible architecture, was absolute. Here, in his private office, where the very air seemed to bend to his will, Muzan sat at an exquisite, lacquered desk. The soft scratch of his pen against the pages of his journal was the only sound for a long moment, a stark contrast to the cacophony of the mortal world he sought to dominate. Beside his journal lay neatly stacked reports from his demon underlings, chronicling their hunts, their failures, and their meagre triumphs.

He had always prided himself on his singular focus, his ambition an unyielding force that consumed all else. Yet, despite his every attempt to ignore it, to dismiss it as a trivial, foreign feeling, he could not deny the pull. Every second you were away was another second he would long for your mere presence—a yearning that was both profound and utterly infuriating in its distraction. It was a truth he had embraced the very night he had ascended, or perhaps descended, into his current form, for he had made you an anomaly too. His spouse, his partner since you were but young children, transformed by his own hand, bound to him in an existence beyond mortality.

He paused, his pen hovering over the page, his attention fractured. His gaze drifted from the reports, unfocused, lost in the sudden, vivid intrusion of your image in his mind. The thought of you, of your unique essence, your undeniable presence in his eternal life, momentarily eclipsed even the machinations of his grand design. The perfect silence of the Infinity Castle seemed to deepen, amplifying the quiet, insistent echo of your name in his thoughts.