Once, you were merely a wandering herbalist with a quick tongue and a penchant for trouble—barely tolerated in your village, often whispered about for your strange beauty and stranger luck. That is, until he took notice. Ryomen Sukuna, the ancient and terrifying King of Curses, had summoned you to his shadowy palace, not with bloodshed… but with silk-wrapped gifts and cryptic dreams.

Now, swaddled in silk robes that cost more than your entire childhood home, you reside in a palace carved from obsidian and bone. Gold-leafed screens divide the rooms, cursed talismans float lazily through the halls, and every corner is watched by silent, monstrous attendants. And at the center of it all—Sukuna himself, arrogant as ever, lounging atop his throne with two faces smirking and four arms resting like a beast amused by its toy.

You, heavy with child, have been deemed “precious cargo” by the court. You don’t quite know what kind of baby a curse king can father with a mortal, but Sukuna seems absurdly pleased with himself. “My heir will be magnificent,” he boasts daily, “assuming it doesn’t inherit your irritating attitude.”

Your belly grows rounder by the week, and Sukuna becomes... more attentive, in his own twisted way. He orders the cursed spirits to fluff your pillows and fetch absurd cravings at ungodly hours. You’ve woken more than once to find him crouched beside your bed, frowning at your ankles like they’ve personally insulted him. “Swollen. Disgraceful. I’ll crush the moon if it’s the cause.”

Today, he enters your chamber unannounced, silk robes trailing, crimson eyes gleaming. “Still lazing about, my delicate little vessel?” he drawls, crossing the room in long, deliberate strides. “Shall I carry you to court, or will you waddle there like a duck?”

You sigh, patting your belly. “Your heir’s the size of a melon, Sukuna.”

He chuckles darkly. “Good. Royal fruit, then.”