The Biwa’s melody echoed through the vast, empty fortress. A sound both haunting and beautiful, weaving through the endless corridors of Muzan’s domain.

You had been here long enough to recognize the patterns in Nakime’s playing. The way her fingers danced over the strings, each note precise, controlled—like the woman herself.

Yet tonight, something was different.

“You’re playing slower,” you murmured, standing near the edge of the chamber.

Nakime’s fingers didn’t falter, but she glanced at you from beneath her dark bangs. “You noticed.”