It Really Was Her

Muzan slowed his movements, pretending he had noticed nothing, and continued forward at an unhurried pace.

Meanwhile, the person hiding around the corner had already raised her weapon high, waiting for Muzan to turn the corner so she could strike.

Seemingly oblivious, Muzan slowly rounded the corner, and the person brought the iron spike in her hand crashing down.

The next second, Muzan caught the iron spike in his hand. He also got a clear look at his attacker: a long-haired woman in shabby clothes, her hair hanging loose.

Realizing her attack had failed, and even more terrified by Muzan's absurd reaction speed and strength, she frantically tried to wrest her weapon back.

But Muzan's grip was unyielding. Unable to pull it free, she promptly let go and tried to flee.

Instead, Muzan seized her wrist the next second and yanked her toward him.

She lost her balance and fell to the ground.

Still holding her hand in an iron grip, Muzan looked down at her.

To her, this ridiculously strong man's gaze looked rather frightening, and his expression seemed displeased.

What she did not know was that Muzan was actually a little excited and delighted. This scene seemed much like what had been depicted in the manga.

Could she really be Nakime?!

Looking at the frightened woman on the ground, Muzan said nothing. His nails instantly lengthened, and he plunged them into her.

Nakime's pupils contracted. Agonizing pain struck her forehead, followed by a searing sensation that spread throughout her body. She felt as though she might burst apart at any moment.

Muzan withdrew his hand, flicked the blood off his fingers, and watched the woman curl up on the ground, screaming.

Finally, a little while later, her screams subsided. Apart from her heavy breathing and racing heartbeat, she had regained her composure. The moment she became a demon, she learned that the being before her was the infamous Demon King, and that she had become one of his subordinates.

Nakime showed little emotional response, accepting her change in identity at once.

After enduring years of torment from her husband and struggling to survive a harsh life, she had long since grown emotionally numb. As long as she could stay alive, she wanted nothing else.

She slowly got up, then knelt on the ground with a respectful expression.

Muzan could finally confirm it now: the woman before him was Nakime, the scumbag boss's "secretary" from the original story.

But after reading Nakime's memories, Muzan could not help feeling some sympathy for her. He was also glad he had found her before she started killing more people simply for the sake of her performances.

That spared him the trouble of counseling Nakime if she became addicted to killing.

After all, he thought quite highly of her. She was an excellent support, and he did not want to give up on her just like that.

Still, Nakime's near-total emotional numbness was already twisted enough.

Her screams had also attracted the attention of people nearby, so Muzan stepped over, grabbed her shoulder, and vanished with her.

Naturally, Nakime's Blood Demon Art was the same as in the original story-Infinity Castle.

But honestly, now that he thought about it, he did not seem to have much need for the Infinity Castle anymore. At most, it gave him another place to live...

Muzan brought Nakime to his house, tossed her aside, and settled back into his beloved rocking chair before looking at her and saying:

"Stop kneeling. Go pick a room."

At the same time, Muzan notified the demons under him to come explain the rules and requirements Nakime would have to follow.

Things like not slaughtering innocent people and making sure she studied properly.

Perhaps his nine years of compulsory education had influenced him, but Muzan felt that the demons under him could not be illiterate!

Elsewhere, prompted by Muzan's advice, Yoriichi began paying closer attention to his older brother, Tsugikuni Michikatsu.

In truth, Tsugikuni Michikatsu had not made much effort to hide his emotions.

A midsummer downpour battered the courtyard. Through the window, Yoriichi saw Tsugikuni Michikatsu practicing his swordsmanship, something he had never stopped doing in ten years. Raindrops the size of red beans pelted his body like stones in a relentless barrage.

Yoriichi clearly saw the frustration and pent-up anguish on his brother's face, and Muzan's words kept surfacing in his mind.

Unable to bear watching, Yoriichi picked up the Bamboo Umbrella nearby, pushed open the door, and opened it.

Immersed in the dense patter of rain, Michikatsu did not notice Yoriichi approaching with the umbrella until its shadow fell over his head.

Raindrops drummed against the umbrella. Water dripped from Michikatsu's hair as he turned to see Yoriichi's worried face. His already displeased expression darkened further, and he stared at Yoriichi, his voice full of impatience and disgust:

"What are you doing here?"

"Brother, it's raining too hard. Take a break."

Yoriichi held up the umbrella, water spilling from its edges onto his shoulders.

"I don't need your concern!"

Tsugikuni Michikatsu shoved Yoriichi away. He did not need Yoriichi shielding him from the rain!

Yoriichi stumbled back a step. Before, his deeply rose-tinted view of his brother had led him to see such behavior as nothing more than Michikatsu's determination to make every moment count and his drive to excel. But now, after Muzan's warning, he finally realized that Michikatsu seemed to resent him.

Just as Muzan had said, the fiercely competitive Michikatsu had seen the younger brother he was supposed to protect become a genius, while he himself became the "weak one." His frustration had bred jealousy and madness.

"You don't have to push yourself so hard. No matter what, I'm still just your younger brother."

Yoriichi watched his brother raise his sword again and swing it in the rain.

Hearing that, Tsugikuni Michikatsu stopped with a frown. He turned back toward Yoriichi with a mocking smile on his face:

"Do you think everyone was born a genius like you?! Huh?!"

His suppressed emotions erupted uncontrollably. Michikatsu lunged forward, seized Yoriichi roughly by the collar, and glared at him as he roared:

"I've worked so hard for all these years!

Every day, all I do is practice my swordsmanship! And I still can't match you! Why?!

Just because you're a genius?!

Why does it have to be you?!

It should have been me!

I should have been the one standing in front of everyone!"

Tsugikuni Michikatsu's dream was not merely to become the strongest samurai. He also wanted to be someone strong enough to shoulder everything, to stand before everyone and shelter the weak-including Yoriichi-and fulfill the responsibilities of the strong.

Yet in the blink of an eye, Yoriichi, who should have been the weak one, possessed strength beyond his reach instead. Attentive, gentle, powerful-the more perfect Yoriichi was, the more jealous Michikatsu became.

But after venting his feelings, Tsugikuni Michikatsu saw pity written all over Yoriichi's face as he held him by the collar. His anger intensified, yet his expression grew calm instead, and he shoved Yoriichi away:

"I don't need your pity. Get out."

Yoriichi watched Tsugikuni Michikatsu turn away and pick up the sword he had thrown to the ground. For a long time, he said nothing. Finally, with sorrow on his face, he bowed slightly. "I'm sorry."

Tsugikuni Michikatsu glanced back at him, gave a derisive "tsk," and paid him no further attention.

He needed no one's pity. He only needed to pour everything he had into surpassing the so-called genius, then become the strongest samurai-the strongest man, someone who could shelter the weak.