When Tsukuyomi Naraku opened his eyes, the first thing he felt was an unprecedented softness in his arms.
The woman's hair brushed against his cheek, carrying a certain sweet, cloying fragrance.
It took him a full three seconds to confirm that he was still alive.
Memories flashed like broken film—the screech of brakes, the sensation of weightlessness as his body was thrown, the intense pain of shattering bones, and then... then there was this moment.
He looked around, his consciousness gradually clearing.
This was a room in the typical Edo Period style, with sliding paper doors half-open, revealing a dimly visible corridor outside.
A few paper lanterns were lit inside the room, casting ambiguous, dim yellow shadows on the tatami mats.
On the walls hung Ukiyo-e style erotic paintings, and the exquisite screen was embroidered with patterns of cherry blossoms and cranes.
The air was filled with incense, alcohol, and... a certain indescribable sweet, metallic smell.
The bedding beneath him was made of expensive silk, cool to the touch.
A guzheng was placed in one corner of the room, and on a small table beside it sat an empty wine flask and two cups.
But the most striking thing was the woman in his arms.
She was nestled against his chest, her kimono loosely opened, exposing her fair shoulders and neck.
Her skin glowed like pearl under the lamplight.
"Where am I..." he muttered to himself, his voice hoarse and unfamiliar.
An ancient brothel? Why was he in a place like this?
In his mind, fragmented memories began to surge—memories that were not his own.
A wealthy Young Master who lived in luxury, whose family suddenly met with disaster, was attacked by "monsters." He fled in panic with his money, eventually somehow arriving in Kyoto and entering this brothel... "Young Master Naraku?"
The woman in his arms suddenly shifted, her voice soft, sweet, and carrying a certain lazy magnetism.
She raised her face and looked at Tsukuyomi Naraku.
It was a breathtakingly beautiful face.
Her skin was like the finest white porcelain, delicate and flawless.
Her slender eyebrows curved slightly upwards, and there was a tiny, crimson tear mole at the corner of her eye, like a drop of congealed blood.
Her eyes were amber, glowing with a faint golden light under the lamp, and something seemed to flow deep within her pupils.
Her nose bridge was high, her lip shape perfect, and her lip color a natural cherry pink, slightly moist.
She looked at Tsukuyomi Naraku, her eyes holding a hint of confusion and amusement.
Tsukuyomi Naraku was momentarily lost in contemplation.
What a beauty, such looks were simply otherworldly... "Why are you spacing out, Young Master Naraku?" The woman chuckled, reaching out to gently stroke his cheek. "Perhaps the alcohol hasn't worn off yet?"
Her fingertips were icy cold, and the touch sent a shiver through Naraku.
Tsukuyomi Naraku was momentarily stunned.
He could even feel the warmth of her body through the thin kimono, and smell a unique fragrance in her hair—not any kind of floral scent, but more like... a spice mixed with a metallic odor.
"Where am I..." he muttered, his voice hoarse.
Then, something deep in his mind clicked, like a lock being opened.
A door.
A massive, bronze-colored door, suspended deep within his consciousness.
The door was covered in runes he didn't recognize, but right in the center, there were clear, unmistakable characters:
demon slayer: kimetsu no yaiba
Naraku's heart suddenly leaped.
demon slayer: kimetsu no yaiba—the anime he had followed in his previous life, that dangerous world filled with man-eating demons.
Ordinary people were like walking snacks, and even members of the Demon Slayer Corps could not escape death, let alone the Pillars who struggled against the Upper Rank Demon... Cold sweat instantly drenched his back.
He looked around the Japanese-style room again, combining the sudden influx of non-native memories—the original owner was a wealthy Young Master whose family was devoured by "monsters," and he fled in panic with his money, eventually arriving at this brothel for some reason... "I... transmigrated into the world of demon slayer: kimetsu no yaiba?" This thought made Tsukuyomi Naraku feel dizzy.
If that was true, his current situation was starting on Hell difficulty.
The survival rate for ordinary people in this world was pitifully low, not to mention that he was currently in a place of pleasure... Just then, the woman in his arms shifted.
She stared at him curiously; her eyes were beautiful, like polished glass, with a faint golden sheen in her pupils.
"Young Master Naraku, what's wrong?" Her voice was soft and sweet, carrying the laziness of just having woken up.
Tsukuyomi Naraku subconsciously tightened his grip, his fingers inadvertently squeezing her chest—soft and warm to the touch.
This action was purely instinctive, but the next second, he froze.
Because the expression of the woman in his arms changed.
She was first slightly startled, and a very faint blush rose on her cheeks—an instinctive, physiological reaction.
But immediately afterward, a flash of icy rage crossed her beautiful eyes.
The way she looked at Tsukuyomi Naraku was no longer that of a hostess looking at a guest, but... like looking at a piece of meat.
Tsukuyomi Naraku's heart suddenly pounded.
That beautiful face, that iconic tear mole, those amber eyes glowing with golden light... a chill shot straight from his spine to the top of his head.
That face... he felt like he had seen it somewhere before.
It was like in the anime, in the manga, in that bloody and cruel world overrun by man-eating demons... "Daki..."
He almost silently whispered the name in his heart.
Upper Rank Six, the sixth of the Twelve Kizuki, whose Blood Demon Art involves manipulating sashes, a man-eating demon known for her beauty and cruelty.
This woman in his arms was Daki.
That face... that tear mole... this impossibly beautiful appearance... "Holy shit," he roared internally, "This is Daki! The Upper Rank Six!"