Much like how the demons had ridiculed each other, you expected them to humiliate.
Except they didn't.
Not once did they dare question what your husband said.
While you could still sense some general reluctance, something about how each of the Upper Moons lowered themselves to the ground to bow made you feel different.
You were respected and revered.
Even if you were merely a mortal among bloodthirsters, for a second, you felt accepted.
More than accepted.
Because you, a human, had authority over demons.
However, you didn't quite comprehend this until Kokushibo, who had seemed the most opposed to you, dropped his gaze further to say, "Lady Kibutsuji."
The words were echoed by the other Upper Moons, who soon followed suit.
You stood a little stunned. You had never been referenced like that before.
Already, the way in which Muzan presented you to the Upper Moons made you feel special, like a crown jewel that shone luminously in its rightful perch.
Your husband squeezed gently at the side of your back.
It's okay, his grasp seemed to say.
After hearing some Upper Moons threaten to devour your innards alive, the demon king's reminder that he was on your side subdued your anxiety.
As Muzan stepped forward, you stumbled beside him.
The continued onslaught of curious eyes in your direction would normally send you wilting, but you did not falter.
Unlike when you had started your marriage, you were not a helpless little girl any longer.
You were stronger than you thought, fueling the self-confidence you craved.
When you and your husband stopped a meter away, the Upper Moons' gazes lifted.
It took Muzan a minute to formulate his next line.
"She's pregnant with our child."
Unsurprisingly, the demons now stared at you, eyebrows twisted and eyes narrowed when they could not really discern a visible protrusion of your stomach, trying to make sense of the little life that grew within.
"But, our lord," Kokushibo called. You were positive that his top pair of eyes looked at Muzan while his bottom pair gazed at you. "When this happened last time..."
His voice trailed off, for fear that he would trigger his master's unpleasant memories.
Yet, he didn't need to finish his question for you to understand.
You would die.
That was what Kokushibo was trying to say.
And you knew that already.
So did everyone else in the room, it seemed, either as first-hand witnesses or recipients of gossip.
Many of them, for sure, lived enough centuries like Muzan to see your current self in your past one.
"Your body can't sustain that kind of life," Akaza commented, breaking the uneasiness that somehow draped the atmosphere.
"But I'm scared," you whispered, your line of vision lowered as though you were confessing to the floor. "Muzan-sama told me that I should become a demon, but that might not be what I want to be. I'm not inclined to hurt other people."
There was a long silence as they all mulled over your words.
Given the stillness, you pondered over your explanation, wondering if heartless and maneating demons would ever come to understand your humanly concerns.
"Do you like raw chicken, my lady?"
It was Douma, innocently suggesting the idea like he was helping you deliberate between dinner choices.
Your head tilted to the side.
"W-What?" you uttered.
That didn't stop Douma's rainbow eyes from twinkling like beautiful galaxies.
"There's this one crazy chick I've been following recently. She's a demon, but—from what I've heard—she and her assistant have been living off animal corpses rather than humans. Tamayo is pretty amazing, isn't she?"
When you only seemed to grow more confused at the unfamiliar name, Daki jumped in.
"You don't need to do something if you don't want to," she explained like an interpreter.
"What we're saying," Douma continued with a nod, "is that we've recently learned that harming humans is simply a choice. We've chosen what we want to do. And similarly, you can choose who you want to be."
Choice.
And the freedom with it.
Growing up as an upper-class, Taisho Era woman, such independence was something that was seemed far from reach.
And right here was your opportunity to decide.
Watchful, you turned to Muzan.
His exterior, now that he was in front of the Upper Moons, was cold and serious, yet you could sense a layer of pessimism that blanketed beneath.
"It's your decision here."
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Almost December!
I've been listening to Christmas songs since October-
