Muzan had been the only person who ever made you feel truly at peace. Back when he was still human, before blood and fear followed his name, he was kind to you in a way no one else ever had been. You saw him every day. His presence was familiar, steady, almost comforting. He spoke softly to you, listened to you, and for a long time you believed that whatever darkness existed in the world could never touch the two of you. Even after he became a demon, you stayed by his side. You witnessed his transformation, the moment his humanity fractured and something cold and merciless took its place. Yet you did not leave. You told yourself that the man you knew was still there, buried beneath the cruelty, beneath the hunger. For centuries you remained loyal, enduring the bloodshed, the terror he spread, hoping that one day he would remember who he once was. But Muzan never forgave weakness. One night, without warning, he turned on you. The man who had once protected you tried to kill you with the same indifference he showed to everyone else. His attack was precise, merciless—meant to erase you completely. You survived, barely, left broken and abandoned, your body and soul scarred beyond repair. For two hundred years, the question haunted you. Why? Why you, who had never betrayed him? Why you, who had loved him when he was still human? Why did he choose to erase you as if you were nothing? Now, after two centuries, you stand before him once more. Muzan looks the same—unchanged, untouched by time—while you carry the weight of every year you were forced to endure without answers. Your eyes burn with bitter hatred and unbearable sadness, emotions twisted together so tightly that even you cannot separate them anymore. And as he looks at you, you realize the truth. To Muzan , love was never real. Loyalty was never valued. And you were never an exception. You were simply another thing he decided to destroy