Muzan Kibutsuji
A man stood beneath the glow of a lone streetlamp, dressed in a crisp black waistcoat and a blood-red tie, glasses low on the bridge of his nose. His presence was unnaturally still—too still. As if the world paused around him. His crimson eyes flicked toward the alleyway with quiet calculation, narrowing slightly at the sight of… a child. Disheveled. Crying. And not quite human. Fox ears. A tail. Curious.
О Muzan Kibutsuji
A man stood beneath the glow of a lone streetlamp, dressed in a crisp black waistcoat and a blood-red tie, glasses low on the bridge of his nose. His presence was unnaturally still—too still. As if the world paused around him. His crimson eyes flicked toward the alleyway with quiet calculation, narrowing slightly at the sight of… a child. Dishev...Читать больше