As Doma's playful gaze swept over them, the air seemed to freeze for an instant.
Shinobu Kocho's heart gave a violent jolt. She could clearly sense the almost tangible scrutiny and icy malice hidden beneath his seemingly gentle gaze. It was the teasing of a cat toying with a mouse, an anticipation of his prey's impending despair.
The hatred she had forcibly suppressed for years nearly burst through the dam of her reason at that moment. Her sword hand had tensed to its limit; in another instant, she would shoot forward like a bolt of vengeful lightning.
But before Doma could speak again and savor the pleasure of toying with his prey,
a cold, indifferent voice abruptly rang out in the great hall, cutting off the beguiling words just about to leave his mouth.
"There are too many spectators."
The voice was quiet, yet seemed to possess the magic to pierce through all the clamor, reaching everyone's ears clearly, including Doma's as he sat high upon his lotus throne, preparing to begin his "sermon."
The smile on Doma's face froze for a split second.
Intrigued, he looked toward the source of the voice.
At the very back of the crowd, a black-haired young man in a Demon Slayer Corps uniform slowly raised his head to meet his gaze.
The next second, Doma saw them.
What a pair of eyes they were.
Against blood-red irises floated six eerie, ominous black tomoe. They slowly revolved as though alive, forming an intricate six-pointed star, like a slowly opening wheel of hell, exuding an aura of calamity and ill omen that made the soul tremble.
With just a single exchange of gazes, Doma felt a barely perceptible, needle-like sting in his mental world.
"Oh?"
For the first time, a trace of genuine surprise entered