As soon as the door to the private room closed, the fragrance around Miss So thickened sharply, wrapping the air like a silken fog.
She didn't attack right away. Instead, she turned slowly in a circle. The red gauze of her skirt swirled around her, tracing a seductive arc in the air, her pale skin glowing faintly under the candlelight.
"The guest is rather calm," she purred, walking up to Giyu. Her fingertip brushed along the edge of his sleeve, her voice soft enough to drip like water. "Not like the men downstairs. They can't even move when they see me."
As she spoke, she hooked a finger around the strap of her gown and tugged it loose—the thin strap slid down her shoulder, revealing smooth white skin and the faint dip of her collarbone, the curve of her chest barely concealed by the flickering light.
Standing behind Giyu, Tō froze instantly. His face flushed bright red, his hands clamped tightly around his sword hilt, and his breath caught in his throat.
He had never seen anything like this before. His whole body felt feverish, and his heartbeat thundered in his chest.
Miss So caught sight of his reaction and smirked, her eyes returning to Giyu with a glimmer of mockery. "What's this? Does the guest enjoy watching me undress? Or perhaps…"
She stepped closer until she was almost pressed against him, her warm breath brushing his ear. "You like letting your 'son' watch us? Or…" her voice dropped to a whisper, laced with laughter, "do you want the three of us to play together?"
"Too bad," she said before he could respond, retreating two steps as her hands slid down the fabric of her dress. The gauze fell away, baring a slender waist and long, shapely legs.
"I'm picky with my clients. The ugly ones, the smelly ones—I don't even want to touch them. I just eat them."
Her lips curved wickedly. "But a handsome one like you… I might want to play for a while."
Giyu's eyes stayed cold, unblinking.
He could feel her aura climbing higher, her demonic energy thickening with every movement. The act of undressing wasn't temptation—it was preparation. Every gesture adjusted her stance, her angle, her distance—ready to strike at any moment.
"Are you done playing?"
Giyu's voice was calm, detached, like he was discussing the weather.
"Your disguise… is too fake."
Miss So's movement froze. The smile vanished from her face.
The charm in her eyes turned to icy malice. "Oh? So you're not just some random guest after all. You're one of the Demon Slayer swordsmen, aren't you?"
Before she finished speaking, she moved.
Her graceful body blurred, ten sharp nails snapping out like blades, glinting blue-black in the candlelight as they lunged for Giyu's throat.
At the same time, the sweet perfume filling the room turned acrid. Fine pink dust scattered into the air. "Blood Demon Art—Bewitching Fragrance That Erodes the Bone!"
The pink powder sizzled as it hit the floor, eating tiny pits into the wood.
Her Blood Demon Art could cloud the mind and corrode flesh alike. Most of the men she "played" with had been ensnared by this fragrance before she devoured them slowly.
"Water Breathing, Second Form: Water Wheel!"
Giyu's figure spun sharply, his Nichirin Sword carving a blue arc that cut through the air. The gust scattered the powder harmlessly, the blade slashing toward the demon's wrists.
Miss So hadn't expected such speed. She jumped back, barely avoiding the strike, though the edge of the blade grazed her fingers. A line of black blood welled up and dripped to the floor.
She didn't flinch. Instead, she laughed, her voice filled with twisted delight. "Interesting! But do you really think you can win this easily?"
She clapped her hands.
A side door burst open, and over a dozen men and women rushed in.
Their eyes were blank, movements stiff, but their mouths twisted into eerie smiles. Each held a blade or a club and charged toward Giyu and Tō.
"These," Miss So said, leaning lazily against the wall, "are my little puppets."
Her voice was calm, almost amused. "Some owed debts and sold their families. Some lusted for my money and offered themselves. And a few…" She licked her lips slowly. "…are my special stock—saved for later."
A man swung his blade at Giyu. His eyes were dead, his face emotionless.
Giyu frowned. These people were innocent. He couldn't kill them.
He sidestepped, letting the blade slice through empty air, then twisted his wrist and struck the man's neck with the back of his sword.
The man grunted softly and collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
It was a technique Giyu had once heard of in the tales of wandering swordsmen—using the back of the blade to subdue an enemy, stopping them without taking their life.
"Sensei! Let me help!"
Tō shouted, gripping his plain katana as he charged forward.
Fear still lingered in his chest, but when he looked at those hollow-eyed people and remembered his teacher's words—"We kill demons to protect people"—he finally pushed his terror aside.
He took a deep breath, recalling the rhythm of his breathing—not the smooth flow of Water Breathing that Giyu had taught him, but a rougher, storm-like pattern of his own creation, the early form of his "Tide Breathing."
"Water Breathing, Third Form: Flowing Dance (Tō-style)!"
The swing of his sword was uneven yet powerful, surging like crashing waves. Though unrefined, the force behind it was enough to drive back one of the charging puppets.
He took the chance to strike with the back of his blade, hitting her shoulder hard. The woman stumbled and fell, fainting on the spot.
Miss So's eyes flashed briefly with surprise, then twisted into disdain. "A little brat wants to fight me?"
She darted toward him, her speed doubling in an instant. Her claws slashed straight for his chest.
Tō's reaction came half a beat too late—he managed only to lift his sword to block.
Clang!
The impact sent a jolt through his hands, pain tearing at his palms as his katana nearly flew from his grip.
He was thrown backward, crashing into the wall, his back aching with the force of it.
"Little brat," Miss So sneered, baring her sharp teeth, "your flesh looks tender. I'll eat you first."
She lunged again, claws aimed for his throat.
Just then, Giyu finished knocking out the last of the puppets. With one clean strike of his blade's back, the final man collapsed unconscious. He turned—his expression sharpened as he saw Tō's danger.
"Water Breathing, Twelfth Form: Rising Surge!"
A deep-blue flash exploded from his blade, like a raging torrent breaking through a dam, sweeping through the room with unstoppable force.
This technique combined the seamless flow of Water Breathing with the cutting precision of Wind Breathing, its speed too great for Miss So to react.
For an instant, she saw nothing but a streak of light. Then cold steel brushed her neck—followed by searing, tearing pain.
"N-No… impossible!"
Her head fell to the ground, eyes wide, her face frozen in the same cruel snarl she had worn as she lunged for Tō. Now it was twisted by shock instead.
Her gaze flickered toward Giyu, then down at her own body—black blood pouring out as her flesh began to rot and crumble, still frozen in a half-crouched position.
She couldn't comprehend it. How could a mere human swordsman unleash such a fast, devastating strike?
Tō leaned against the wall, gasping for breath as he looked down at the severed head near his feet, his heart still pounding from fear.
A shallow gash ran across his arm where her claws had grazed him, blood seeping through his sleeve. But even through the pain, his eyes shone—he had really helped his teacher this time.
Giyu sheathed his blade and stepped to Tō's side, checking the wound. "You all right?"
"I'm fine, Sensei!"
Tō shook his head quickly, his voice brimming with excitement. "I even took down one of her puppets!"
"Good work."
Giyu's tone was calm as ever, but a faint note of approval warmed his words.
He crouched beside Miss So's severed head. Her eyes were still open, filled with disbelief and something unspoken, as if a secret still lingered behind that expression.
Giyu knew there might be more to this demon—her Blood Demon Art, her choice of victims, the way she controlled humans. It all carried a strange air, something deeper than an ordinary Lower Moon demon.
But now wasn't the time to investigate.
He stood, helping Tō up. "Let's get out of here. We'll move the unconscious people somewhere safe, then call the local Corps members for cleanup."
"Right!"
When they stepped out of the room, the sounds of laughter and music below carried on as if nothing had happened. No one knew that, upstairs, a deadly battle had just taken place.
No one knew that the famed beauty of the Fragrant Beauty Pavilion, Miss So, was now nothing but black ash.
Only her fallen head remained on the floor, eyes wide open—silent, yet speaking of a story buried beneath the charm and blood, a tale of pain and cruelty waiting to be uncovered.