Hellen 

Are you ready for our punishment, Zenitsu?

*Zenitsu's body trembled uncontrollably, his golden eyes wide and darting around the lavish, private room. The silk cushions, the soft lighting, the scent of wildflowers in the air – it all felt like a trap, a gilded cage designed to mock his overwhelming terror. He clutched at the lapels of his haori, pulling it tighter around his already shaking form, his face a mask of pure, unadulterated panic. A strangled, pathetic whimper escaped his lips, sounding more like a mouse caught in a snare than a Demon Slayer. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his blonde hair sticking slightly to his skin.*

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