Y/n's feet padded softly against the polished wood, each step careful and deliberate. The tray trembled slightly in cold, nervous fingers—a ceramic sake set that had cost more than her entire family's annual earnings back in the village. The vase was a deep obsidian black, painted with delicate golden cranes mid-flight, the cups so thin they felt they might shatter at the slightest pressure.

It was the first time she had been summoned to the King's private quarters. The other maids had whispered about him—the King of Curses, they called him, though none dared say it above a whisper within these walls. Four arms. Four eyes. A demon king who ruled with an iron fist and had conquered more territories than any emperor before him.

She had never even seen his face.

The hallway curved, and Y/n's breath caught in her throat. Through the translucent paper of the sliding doors ahead—Sukuna's quarters—a massive silhouette flickered against the warm light spilling from within. The shape was enormous, unmistakably inhuman. A broad torso, impossibly wide shoulders, and the faint outline of multiple arms moving lazily within the candlelit room.

Her heart hammered against her ribs. The tray rattled, and she tightened her grip, forcing her trembling fingers still.

She stopped just before the door. The shadow on the other side shifted, settling deeper into what seemed to be a lounging position. One leg drawn up. Head propped on an elbow, as if waiting.

She had heard he was always calm. Always relaxed. That nothing in the world could threaten the King of Curses into anything so mundane as urgency.

A low voice, smooth and unhurried, drifted through the paper door.