Storm of Fate

Chapter 19

"It's almost time."

From his perch in the high box, a man in white sat reclined in an ornate chair, swirling a glass of chilled white wine. His smile was one of quiet anticipation, his eyes betraying no emotion as he gazed down at the grand stage below. But it wasn’t the performance that held his interest—it was the culmination of events brewing beneath the surface.

Standing beside him was Kokushibo, a figure of quiet menace, his dark, piercing eyes fixed intently on the stage where his younger brother, Yoriichi, led the orchestra. For all his composure, Kokushibo could feel the weight of Muzan's gaze and the faint hum of dissatisfaction emanating from the man he served.

As the final notes of the performance soared, the audience erupted in thunderous applause. The ovation swept through the grand theatre, a cacophony of praise for the performers who had delivered a truly spectacular show. Yet the sight of their jubilation seemed to sour Muzan’s mood further. He sipped his wine and set the glass down with a sharp clink, his voice cutting through the applause like a blade.

"I was promised a show. This is not what I came for."

"My apologies, Lord Muzan," Kokushibo said, bowing his head. "It seems there have been… complications. Some pests have surfaced unexpectedly."

Muzan’s cold eyes flicked to his subordinate. “You assured me everything was handled.”

"Some slipped through my grasp," Kokushibo admitted, his tone clipped. "My men are addressing it as we speak—"

"No need," Muzan interrupted, rising from his seat with an air of finality. "Prepare my carriage."

Before Kokushibo could respond, a voice echoed from the entrance of the high box.

"Leaving already? The night is still young."

Both men turned sharply to see a figure leaning casually against the doorframe. His red hair caught the low light, and his grin was one of quiet defiance.

"You," Kokushibo hissed, his composure cracking ever so slightly. "How are you still—"

"Oh, and thanks for the gifts," Tanjiro interrupted, his tone light as he tossed a handful of bullets onto the floor. "They’ve been quite the nuisance for me and my partners."

Muzan’s smile returned, this time with an edge of mockery. "Think nothing of it, detective. Consider it a welcoming gift. Now, tell me—what brings you here?"

Tanjiro took a step into the room, his eyes locking with Muzan's. "I thought I’d return the favor. I made sure the performance ended on a perfect note—just for you."

Muzan’s smile faded. "This isn’t over, detective. It has only just begun."

"Oh, I beg to differ," Tanjiro said, his voice hardening. "You’re under arrest for suspicion of murder."

Kokushibo stepped forward. "We’ve captured four of your accomplices as they attempted to flee. They’re in custody as we speak."

Muzan’s grin widened as he turned to face Tanjiro. "Do you value their lives, detective? Like I said, this is only the beginning."

Tanjiro didn’t flinch. "Whatever games you’re playing, I’m ready for them."

At that moment, a shadowy figure appeared at the doorway. "Your carriage is here, my lord," Kokushibo said.

Muzan gave a curt nod and began walking toward Tanjiro, his presence radiating menace. As he passed the detective, he leaned in just enough for his voice to be heard.