Muzan: My daughter can't be that weak!

Okay, that's right.

Is it a man's blood? Or a woman's blood? Or perhaps a child's blood?

Naruko gazed into the void, her fingertips tracing the strings of her pipa as she pondered silently.

Muzan only instructed that "she should have blood to drink," but did not specify the type.

As a ghost, she knew very well that the taste of ghosts varied slightly from human to human, but she didn't know whether it mattered to a sleeping child who could only instinctively swallow.

Nakime hesitated for a moment.

Logically, she should have consulted Lord Muzan.

But the adult seems to be very busy lately, frequently changing identities and engaging in activities in human society, playing all sorts of roles: a wealthy merchant, a nobleman, a scholar, and now, I've heard, he's become the young master of some family of doctors.

The adults used almost every means possible to obtain the blue spider lily.

Nakime ultimately decided to prepare some of all three.

They were placed in porcelain bottles of different colors, labeled, and then placed in a hidden compartment under the low table.

Once Yukina wakes up, we'll see which option she prefers and then make adjustments accordingly.

After doing all this, Nakime sat down at the low table and picked up her biwa.

Looking at the room that had suddenly come alive, she subconsciously ran her fingertips across the strings, but the notes that flowed out were not the same as before.

Instead, it was an extremely gentle melody, like the evening breeze rustling the wind chimes under the eaves, or like a mother's indistinct humming as she lulled her child to sleep.

She herself was stunned for a moment.

She hadn't played such a useless piece in a long time.

Perhaps it was this room, this sleeping child, that stirred up something long buried.

She had dreamed of having a child.

Yes, when she was still that poor pipa player, many neighbors advised her: "Have a child. Once you have a child, your husband will know to settle down, to think about the family, and he won't gamble anymore."

She once believed it too, and even on countless weary nights, she sketched a blurry little figure who would softly call her mother and listen with curious eyes when she played the pipa.

What a ridiculous fantasy!

Now she understood that even if she did have a child, under that alcoholic and violent husband, the child would either die young or grow up in fear.

More likely, what would happen to a young, vibrant life in front of her when she had just become a ghost and was being controlled by her instincts?

The melody played by her fingertips paused slightly, producing a discordant tremolo.

Fortunately, no.

She knows herself too well.

When she was dominated by her obsession with the perfect tone, she could see nothing and her heart could hold nothing.

Only the pipa, only music, only the sublimation brought about by slaughter.

At that time, the sound of a baby crying would probably only annoy her and make her feel that it was interfering with her performance.

Nakime lowered her head and looked at the biwa in her arms.

This is fine now.

She has a pipa, an infinite castle, and orders from Lord Muzan to carry out.

That's enough.

She finally plucked the strings again.

The cool, melodious music flowed through the empty room, like a stream under the moonlight—quiet and lonely.

Nakime closed her eyes, her fingers dancing across the strings.

She stopped thinking about the past and focused only on each note.

This is the entire meaning of her existence now.

...

In the life of a ghost, decades are but a fleeting moment.

But for Nakime, taking care of a sleeping child, apart from playing the biwa, became a rather interesting daily routine.

She would check on Yukina's condition regularly, change the cushions under her, and gently wipe her pale face and fingers with a damp cloth.

Lord Muzan would occasionally ask questions through his mind, always in a very calm tone.

"Is Yukina awake?"

Nakime would respectfully reply, "My lord, she is not awake yet."

However, this kind of dialogue has been repeated dozens of times.

Until one day, when Muzan's voice rang in her mind again, Nakime hesitated for a rare moment before answering.

She looked at the bed.

Yukina remained asleep, her breathing shallow, her eyelashes casting small shadows on her pale cheeks.

But something is different.

"My lady," Nakime carefully chose her words, "she hasn't woken up yet. But..."

"But what?" Muzan's voice was devoid of emotion.

Nakime looked at it carefully again to make sure she wasn't mistaken.

She took a deep breath and said something that even she found unbelievable:

"Miss Yukina seems to be... getting bigger lately."

As she said this, Nakime couldn't help but look towards the bed again.

Indeed, Yukina's kimono was noticeably too short, revealing part of her wrists and ankles.

Her facial features seemed to have lost some of their baby fat, revealing a hint of girlishness.

It's so weird.

After a ghost is transformed, its appearance is usually fixed in the state it was in at the time of death or transformation.

Although some demons can change their appearance through willpower, such as Muzan, who frequently changes his appearance and identity card, those are all proactive and conscious actions.

And Yukina... she grew up in her sleep, unaware of it all.

Although not many of them grew up.

She was like a real plant, following some kind of inherent growth law while she was asleep.

Upon hearing this, Muzan put down the ancient book in his hand.

He was disguised as the young master of a family of doctors, his complexion deliberately made rosier than usual, his eyebrows and eyes softened, and he was wearing an elegant kimono, studying medical books.

Nakime's voice came through the blood connection, tinged with an unusual hesitation.

"Grow bigger by yourself?"

Muzan repeated it, his fingertips unconsciously twirling the edge of the book.

He has never liked change.

Change means the unknown, it means loss of control, it means recalculation and replanning.

Just like Yoriichi Tsugikuni's appearance, just like Tamayo's betrayal, just like the Demon Slayer Corps' endless stream of new techniques.

Every change brought trouble, danger, and unsettling variables.

But now, this change is happening to Yukina.

Muzan's brows furrowed slightly, but quickly relaxed again.

Fortunately, it was Yukina.

That weak little thing that was completely dependent on him.

If it's some other kind of ghost, then the change should be nipped in the bud.

"Continue to observe," Muzan instructed Nakime through their blood connection, his voice calm. "Report to me immediately if any further changes occur."

"Yes, sir."

A look of surprise flashed in Nakime's eyes; she had thought that the master would at least come back to check on things.

Connection severed.

Muzan refocused his attention on the ancient book in his hands.

This is an illustrated guide to rare plants, and he hopes to find some information about the blue spider lily in it.

But for some reason, his thoughts would occasionally drift to the Infinite City.

Grown up?

Yeah.

That way, you might grow sharp teeth.

At least next time she makes the same mistake and bites her wrist, she'll bleed more.

As Muzan thought this, his fingertips turned another page of the book.