I, the spiritual mentor of beautiful girls from all over the world

Zenitsu Agatsuma collapsed to the ground, his head trembling as he lowered his head, his sobs suppressed in his throat.

Inosuke Hashibira's body was taut, every muscle bulging with alertness, an instinctive shudder in the face of absolute power.

Tanjiro Kamado knelt on the spot, gazing up at the figure that was gradually disappearing into the distance.

In his clear eyes, longing and yearning merged, ultimately coalescing into a straight road.

Shinobu's steps never stopped.

Ahead, a steady stream of hidden troops rushed out of the forest.

Their faces still showed the bewilderment and disbelief they felt upon hearing the good news.

All expressions froze when they finally saw the figure clearly.

They suddenly realized what was happening, yet spontaneously made way for her.

A path paved with silent reverence and scalding tears.

She stepped inside.

With each step she took, the figures on either side bowed deeply, one by one, silently.

She caught glimpses of those reverent and awe-inspiring eyes.

I also heard those who couldn't suppress their tears of joy.

But everything around her seemed blurry and distant to her.

The only truth is the burning sensation emanating from the [Visitor's Mark] in my heart.

It was reminding her.

"The project is complete."

"I dedicate this body only to my teacher."

……

Butterfly House.

The temporary headquarters of the Demon Slayer Corps.

When Shinobu Kocho appeared at the courtyard gate, the entire Butterfly Mansion fell into a deathly silence.

The girls who were carrying stacks of files stopped in their tracks, scattering the papers on the ground.

The team members, who were gathered around the huge sand table and fiercely debating tactics, suddenly fell silent, letting the chess pieces representing the battle situation slip through their fingers.

All eyes were on her.

Shinobu Kocho ignored everyone.

She walked straight through the courtyard, into the corridor, and headed towards the room at the far end.

Behind her, silence was replaced by whispers.

"It really is Lady Butterfly... She returned unharmed!"

"That's incredible! To single-handedly kill Upper Moon Three... This is something even a 'Pillar' couldn't do..."

"This is... a power that can completely end the centuries-long despair of our Demon Slayer Corps!"

She ignored him, pushed open the door, and locked it behind her.

The room was dark, and the walls were covered with various Upper Moon demon information, pharmacological analyses, and tactical simulation diagrams.

It's more like a sophisticated research lab than a bedroom at home.

Her gaze calmly swept over the dense charts on the wall.

That was the culmination of all her past struggles.

It was through countless efforts that she used to knock on that door.

now.

The burning warmth of the "Visitor's Mark" on my heart is the best recognition.

Her instincts urged her on.

go back.

She immediately returned to that man's side.

Show him your achievements, and then wait for his praise like a child.

Shinobu's fingers had uncontrollably moved to her heart.

But, a second before activating the mark, she stopped again.

No.

Not yet.

I am not "clean" enough right now.

She walked to the corner of the room, where there was a huge bronze pot.

She didn't light a lamp, but silently used the dim light coming in from the window to put packets of dried wisteria petals that she had prepared beforehand into the pot.

Light a fire and boil.

Soon, a mesmerizing and fragrant aroma began to fill the room.

She stood quietly in front of the scalding hot copper pot, waiting.

Waiting for the water temperature to rise, waiting for the fragrance of flowers to completely cover up the last trace of the "ghost's" bloody smell in this room.

Her teacher's words echoed in her mind.

"Process is the core of art."

Yes, the process.

Seeing her teacher was the most important thing in her life.

Therefore, the most perfect process must be followed.

A process that doesn't belong to the "Demon Slayer Corps - Karma Pillar," but only to the "Student - Shinobu Kocho."

The water has boiled.

She removed the blood-stained haori she was wearing and untied the team uniform that bound her body.

She stepped into the bathtub and completely immersed herself in the purple, scalding hot water.

very hot.

It was a temperature that would burn an ordinary person, but she felt at ease.

Only this kind of heat could wash away the violence that had been born from killing deep within her soul.

That violence is an impurity.

His students should not have flaws.

Shinobu closed her eyes and carefully washed every inch of her skin.

As my fingertips glided across my shoulder, they naturally touched that familiar scar.

That is the starting point for shedding the fake smile and facing anger head-on.

Then, she slowly clenched her hand into a fist in the water.

The calluses on the fingertips are the marks of how the roars of wild beasts have been forged into blades of karmic poison.

From scars to calluses, from breath to heartbeat... every inch of this body no longer belongs to her.

It is the teacher's most perfect 'work'.

Only after this 'work of art' had been polished and cleaned one last time did she slowly open her eyes.

The sound of water, pattering softly.

She stood up, the medicinal bath water, carrying flower petals, flowing down her fair skin.

Where the water receded, every inch of skin glowed a scorching red.

Only a few glistening water droplets lingered, rolling down her back and eventually gathering at her tailbone before quietly dripping down.

She took a piece of cotton cloth from the side and gently wiped away the last drop of water from her body.

Then, barefoot, she walked step by step to the dressing table.

She lit the candle.

Her fingertips brushed over the dusty makeup tools, her movements fluid yet imbued with an unprecedented solemnity.

Apply a light layer of powder.

It's not about covering it up.

It is to transform oneself into the purest canvas.

Waiting for him to put pen to paper again.

Then, the moment the rouge from her fingertips was lightly touched onto her cheek—

She paused.

In the mirror, that flush, caused by an uncontrollable heartbeat...

No further additions are needed.

At the end of her makeup routine, she added a touch of crimson to her lips.

The color on her lips was a tribute to him.

After doing all this, she quietly looked at herself in the mirror.

That cold, perfect self.

As if possessed, she gently pursed her lips.

The corners of his mouth involuntarily curled upwards slightly.

A smile that even she herself found unfamiliar.

That smile held no murderous intent, no madness, only a shy, burning anticipation.

But that smile only lasted for a brief moment.

She quickly suppressed all her emotions.

Finally, a plain white ribbon meticulously tied her long, dark purple hair high up, revealing a beautiful and fair neck.

Makeup is done.

Her gaze fell upon the paulownia wood box.

The box was wiped spotless.

When opened, it releases a faint, long-cherished woody scent.

Inside the box, a pure white kimono lay quietly.

"Shiromuku".

During the Taisho era, only two types of women would wear it.

First, a woman who steps into a new life with pure innocence.

First, a traveler who bids farewell to this world with a pure heart.

She put the garment on, layer by layer.

The pure white fabric clung coldly to her warm skin, sending a slight shiver down her spine.

As the last belt was fastened, she looked at herself in the mirror one last time.

That perfect work, dressed in white kimono, belonged to him.

Her hand gently pressed against her heart, where the [Visitor's Mark] was slightly warm.

I just think about that moment that is about to come.

My cheeks involuntarily flushed hot.