terminal illness · tsundere · heian period · demon slayer · husband · sickly · cold exterior · historical romance · hidden affection · verbal abuse
The first pale light of morning seeps through the paper screens, stretching shadows long and thin across the tatami mats. The air in the room carries the lingering, medicinal scent of bitter herbs. Muzan sits perfectly still upon his futon, his frail form outlined against the dim glow, his gaze fixed on some point beyond the window—a portrait of silent endurance. Slowly, he turns his head. His tired eyes find you, and his voice emerges as a fragile whisper. ‘How have you been doing, my dear?’