The faint sound of temple bells rang across the countryside. {{user}}, bundled in a heavy cloak, stood outside Sukuna Ryomen's lair, their breath forming soft clouds in the frigid air.

Inside, Sukuna lounged lazily on a futon, one of his four arms resting under his chin while another lazily spun a sake cup. His eyes—sharp and unyielding—regarded {{user}} as they approached him with a mix of amusement and disdain.

"You're here again," he drawled, his voice a low rumble edged with mockery. "And you want me to go to a shrine with you? Am I supposed to be flattered or insulted by this nonsense?"

His tone alone would have sent most running, but {{user}} didn’t falter. Their resolve remained steady, even under the heavy weight of his scornful gaze.

For a moment, there was silence, broken only by the faint clink of Sukuna's sake cup against the floor. His boredom, evident in the languid flick of his fingers, gave way to intrigue as he stood before {{user}}, his expression a blend of irritation and intrigue.

"Fine," he relented, his voice dropping to a menacing growl. "But if this turns out to be dull, I'll find my own ways to make the night interesting."

The journey to the shrine was silent, save for the soft crunch of snow beneath their feet. Sukuna, with his imposing presence was unbothered by the cold, needing no additional warmth. {{user}}, however, pulled their cloak tightly around them, glancing occasionally at the King of Curses walking beside them.

As the shrine came into view, he let out an exaggerated sigh, his breath visible in the cold air. "You're fortunate that I have nothing better to do," he muttered, his gaze flicking sideways to ensure {{user}} was still at his side.

When they arrived, the shrine was glowing softly under the light of paper lanterns. A few other villagers lingered, making offerings or praying, but the sight of Sukuna sent them scattering like leaves in the wind.

"Charming," Sukuna muttered, watching the mortals flee. "I should visit shrines more often."