but high atop a freezing mountain, surrounded by a strange crimson barrier that pulsed like a living thing.

He recognized it instantly.

Without hesitation, he cut a shallow wound in his hand.

When the blood touched the barrier, it sizzled — and a crack formed, just wide enough for him to slip through.

But below, the slope was steep. The wind howled. His breath turned to frost.

Even with his strength, descending in this weakened form would take hours.

Shivering, he muttered:

> "Of course. Why not make it harder."

Then a voice slithered in — cold and familiar:

> "Use my power..."

He spun. Nothing. Only the snow.

> "You won't survive without me."

> "Not interested," Nujah grunted.

The voice laughed softly.

> "You're trembling. Mortal flesh needs time.

You may be immortal — but this body isn't.

You'll freeze long before you reach her. And if you die now...

healing will take hours. You won't make it."

Nujah pushed the voice from his mind. He wasn't about to let that thing in again.

Instead, he summoned a small flame — crude, simple magic, barely enough to warm his hands.

Then, pulling Muzan's old coat tightly around his shoulders,

he lay down beside the fire and let his eyes close.

---

Six hours passed.

A voice stirred him.

When he opened his eyes, a girl was crouched over him — red-cheeked, curious.

> "Who are you, mister?"

Before he could answer —

BANG.

A bullet ripped through his skull. He collapsed, blood spraying across the snow.

Screams.

The girl was yanked back by her mother — while a tall man reloaded his rifle.

But Nujah stood back up.

The bullet clinked off his skull and dropped to the ground like a spent coin.

The mother froze. The father aimed again — but hesitated.

And then —

> "WAIT! STOP!" the girl cried. "He's our guest!"

The man lowered the gun, confused and shaken.

Still saying nothing, Nujah sat upright.

The girl wriggled free and crept back to him.

> "So... who are you?"

He looked into her eyes — and froze.

There were stars there. Real ones. Tiny galaxies danced in her irises.

He plucked the bullet from his hair.

> "I've been through worse," he said, almost smirking.

> "You smell like burnt grass," she replied.

> "You smell like trouble."

> "Fair," she giggled. "I'm Sayu. You?"

> "…Nujah."

> "That's a weird name."

> "You shot me in the head."

> "That was my dad!"

> "Still counts."

> "...Wanna come inside?"

Nujah gave her a tired look… and nodded.

---

With Sayu pulling him forward, they walked through a narrow snowy path into a hidden tunnel — carved from ancient stone.

Yet strangely, the walls were spotless.

> "This place is... too clean," Nujah muttered.

> "Our Queen hates dust," Sayu explained. "She doesn't clean — she declares war on dirt."

A sharp voice echoed from around the bend:

> "Sayu!"

Her mother.

Everyone chuckled.

> "She's scary in royal mode," Sayu whispered.

Nujah raised an eyebrow. "So you're part of a royal cleaning cult?"

Sayu grinned. "Yup. The Dusters of Destiny."

More laughter.

> "You sound important," Sayu added.

> "Once," Nujah muttered.

> "Well, you're here now. That's what counts."

Finally, they reached the house — tucked under the snow, glowing with warmth.

The laughter faded into calm.

As the door opened, a new chapter was already waiting.

---

As soon as they entered the house, Sayu pulled Nujah further in, eager to show him around. Meanwhile, the mother and father—less fearful now after hearing the stranger's name—exchanged glances of recognition. They had once witnessed firsthand the things he had done in the distant past.

With a respectful smile, the father bowed slightly.

"Please, make yourself at home, sir. We'll prepare something to eat."

Their tone was kind and genuinely welcoming. Nujah blinked in surprise—he didn't expect such warmth—but sensed no ill will, so he let it be.

The parents stepped into the kitchen through a doorway framed by twisting tree leaves. As they disappeared, their voices remained cheerful—"Their movements were too focused—almost like something bigger than dinner was coming."

Sayu tugged his sleeve again. "What are you waiting for? Come on. I'll show you our princess. She gets moody if she's not greeted properly before meals."

Without question, Nujah followed. But as they approached a floral-carved door, he suddenly froze. A wave of heat and an invisible pressure pulsed from the other side.

He instinctively pushed Sayu behind him, drawing his blade.

"Stay close and stay quiet," he whispered.

Sayu opened her mouth to protest, but Nujah silenced her with a gesture. Whispering a minor incantation, he pushed the door open—

—only to find a monstrous, hound-like creature sprawled across the room's floor, seemingly asleep.

Nujah narrowed his eyes. "These things don't sleep."

Sayu slowly regained her voice and tried to step past him.

"Wait, wait—don't hurt her!"

Nujah didn't lower his weapon.

"This... is your princess?"

Sayu shrugged, arms crossed. "She's just fluffy and dramatic."

Nujah raised an eyebrow.

"Fluffy? That thing looks like it guards the gates of hell."

Sayu smirked. "Yeah, but only on Mondays."

Nujah crossed his arms, stepping cautiously into the room.

"How did you even train this thing?" he asked, astonished.

The beast was monstrous—horned, heavy, and coated in hellish shadows—yet it slumbered like a house pet.

Sayu beamed proudly.

"I didn't train her. I raised her."

Nujah blinked. "Raised?"

Sayu nodded, her hand gently brushing the beast's fur. "Even monsters become gentle when shown enough love."

Before Nujah could respond, the mother's voice echoed down the hallway.

"Dinner's ready, Sayu!"

Sayu and Nujah both answered at the same time. "Coming, ma'am!"

As they turned to go, Nujah muttered, "Let's drop the 'sir' stuff. You'll break me if you keep that up."

The mother froze, then turned and gave a warm but firm look.

"You'll never hear it again from this house."

She smiled. "Now go on, the table is set."

As they made their way to the dining room, Sayu whispered, "Mom only talks like that to people she truly respects…"

Nujah gave her a look. "...Or people she plans to poison?"

Sayu giggled.

Meanwhile, the mother leaned toward the father and softly delivered Nujah's request.

As they exited the hallway, the father approached Nujah, clearly trying not to tremble.

"E-erm… the meal awaits, sir. I'll… just go feed the dog."

The hallway sparkled. A red carpet had been laid, and everything gleamed like a royal banquet hall.

Nujah's eyes widened at the sheer display of food—lavish, endless, and of absurd quality.

Just as he opened his mouth, Sayu scowled.

"Why is it that every time I—"

Before she could finish, her mother gently clamped a hand over her mouth.

"You may take your seat, Nujah. We'll be right behind you."

Nujah, being a guest, didn't argue and stepped into the grand sitting room.

He could hear murmurs from behind, but couldn't decipher them—likely protected by magic.

The father gave him a respectful nod and sat across.

The mother entered as well, but Sayu… Sayu trembled—not from fear, but sheer awe.

Nujah raised an eyebrow.

"You didn't put a spell on your daughter, did you?

 

Sayu answered before her mother could

---

Sayu looked at Nujah with a calm, admiring expression.

"You're not what I expected."

Nujah raised an eyebrow. "Expected?"

She nodded. "You're quieter. Kinder. I thought someone like you would carry thunder in their voice."

"I've carried worse than thunder."

"And yet… you didn't shout. Even when a demon dog was sleeping behind a door."

"I shout when silence doesn't work. This place… listens better than most."

Sayu grinned. "She's really glad to meet you."

Nujah blinked. "She?"

"My sister. The one hiding behind the curtains. She's shy."

Nujah turned slightly, catching a glimpse of wide, curious eyes before they vanished.

"…Oh, I see."

"She said you feel like a storybook hero. I told her you're not."

Nujah smirked. "Thanks for the clarification."

"I told her you're better. Real. 

Sayu lowered her voice, her tone shifting.

"She wanted you to know something before you see the rest of the house."

"Oh?"

"She's happy you're here, but… she's also scared. People say the village below—under the mountain—is cursed."

Nujah narrowed his eyes. "Cursed how?"

"There's an old rumor. A creature that devours children. They say it comes from the caves beneath the village. A few people have gone missing too..."

Nujah looked away for a second. "...That's dangerous."

Sayu watched him closely.

"You don't have to go there, you know."

"I do," Nujah replied. "It's the only path left to where I need to be."

Sayu hesitated. "My mother said no one ever came back."

Nujah didn't flinch. "Then I'll be the first."

A shadow passed in Sayu's expression. "Do you think it's really there?"

"No."

"What?"

"I've erased every single one of those creatures from this universe. Personally."

Sayu's mother, listening quietly nearby, turned pale. Nujah looked straight at her.

"I made sure only the oath-bound ones survived. And even then… their leash is my curse."

Sayu opened her mouth to ask—

But Nujah held up a finger.

"If any of those so-called oath-bound dared harm an innocent child… the curse I gave them would awaken."

Sayu's eyes lit up with curiosity. "What would happen?"

Nujah smiled slightly, but coldly.

"they'd rather die a thousand deaths than lay a hand on a child.