Chapter 129: Night King's Daily Life - 5 -

Morning at the Infinity Castle.

Nezuko's gaze was as sharp as a detective's today.

Her mission for the day was to tail her father, Akira. She found it suspicious that lately, whenever Shinobu and Kanao entered a room with him, they would lock the door and stop playing with her.

She was curious about what games he played with them when she wasn't around.

Moving stealthily, Nezuko followed in Akira's footsteps as he walked down the hallway.

Perhaps because she was making herself as small as possible, Akira didn't seem to notice her.

Nezuko's pure heart and the lack of malice in her presence seemed to bypass the heightened senses of his perfected being.

Akira hummed a tune as he headed toward the kitchen, where a savory aroma was wafting out.

In the kitchen, Kiyohime, wearing an apron, was preparing breakfast.

The fragrant scent of bubbling miso soup and the rhythmic sound of a knife hitting the cutting board filled the air.

"Hmm~ Kiyohime, it smells amazing again today.”

Akira silenced his footsteps and crept up behind Kiyohime.

Then, he suddenly wrapped his arms around her defenseless waist from behind.

“Eek?! M-Master! You startled me... I almost spilled the soup.”

Startled, Kiyohime turned around while still holding her ladle.

But Akira just chuckled mischievously, buried his face in the nape of her neck, and took a deep breath.

“Sorry, sorry. You looked so beautiful cooking that I couldn't help myself. You smell much more delicious than the miso soup.”

“Oh, honestly... making a fuss so early in the morning....”

Kiyohime's face flushed red, like a ripe apple.

Though her words said otherwise, her body was already melting into Akira’s embrace.

She put down the ladle and reached her hands back to wrap around Akira's neck.

“Then... would you like a taste?”

Kiyohime closed her eyes and puckered her lips. Without hesitation, Akira claimed them.

“mph... hmmm... ♡”

Nezuko, peeking from behind the wall, widened her eyes in shock.

That wasn't the light, playful peck Father usually gave Nezuko.

Their lips were locked tightly together, heads tilting back and forth as if they were trying to consume one another.

Wet, heated, and sticky sounds filled the quiet kitchen.

“Haah... slurp... ♡ Master... your tongue... ♡”

Kiyohime’s legs seemed to lose their strength as she gripped Akira’s clothes tightly, and Akira held her firmly by the waist, deepening the kiss.

It was then.

“Akira-san!! Me too! I want a morning kiss too!”

Along with the sweet scent of cherry blossoms, Kanroji Mitsuri flew in like a cannonball.

As soon as she saw the two kissing, her jealousy and affection exploded, and she charged right in.

“Mi-Mitsuri? Wait a second!”

Before Akira could react, Mitsuri grabbed his free right arm, stood on her tiptoes, and stole his lips.

“Mmm~! chuu... ♡! Love me too!”

Ultimately, Akira ended up as the sandwich between two glamorous beauties, Kiyohime and Mitsuri.

“Really, I should start using Ushiwaka's cloning technique. My body won't last with just one of me.”

A strange yet intense three-way kiss followed, their saliva mixing and breaths intertwining.

Akira's hands naturally began to wander over the women's bodies.

His left hand firmly gripped Kiyohime’s firm, smooth hips, while his right hand gently massaged Mitsuri's bursting chest.

“mmnn! Akira-san's touch... ♡ it feels so good!”

“Me too, please touch me more... ♡”

Nezuko stared blankly at the scene. She saw her father's fingers sinking into Mitsuri’s enormous breasts.

The way his hands moved over Kiyohime. It was clearly a masculine touch, completely different from the way he patted Nezuko’s head.

Nezuko unconsciously looked down at her own chest.

It was flat. A child’s body with no curves to be seen through her kimono.

‘So Father... likes big boobs.’

Nezuko realized something.

Those deep kisses and sticky touches were a privilege only allowed to those big-chested, adult sisters.

Along with an unknown sense of defeat, a strange stubbornness flared up within her.

‘It's not fair. I can do that too.’

Nezuko recalled her own form when she awakened into her adult self.

If her horn grew and her body matured, she could become as big as Mitsuri—no, even bigger.

Next time she saw Akira, she wanted to be loved just like them.

Nezuko pouted and quickly fled the scene, leaving behind the sight of Akira letting out happy screams as he was buried in the breasts of the two women.

If she watched any longer, she felt like her horn might pop out from jealousy.

After finishing his suffocatingly happy morning greetings, Akira straightened his clothes and headed to Kokushibo's room.

“Yo, old man. You still kicking? Let's play a round of Go.”

In the elegant tatami room filled with the scent of heavy incense, Kokushibo was meditating in a formal sitting position.

“......You have arrived. I was, waiting.”

Kokushibo flashed his six eyes and sat before the Go board. The two began placing stones in silence.

Clack. Tak.

A fierce battle of black and white stones unfolded on the board.

True to a demon who had lived for hundreds of years, Kokushibo played heavy, orthodox moves, but Akira gradually destroyed Kokushibo's territory with erratic and annoying strategies.

“Oops, that's a self-defeating move. Old man, how can you miss that when you have six eyes? Is your vision failing in your old age?”

As Akira snidely captured Kokushibo’s large group of stones, a vein popped on Kokushibo’s forehead.

He was a creature of immense pride.

Even though he served Akira as his lord, he couldn't stand being trifled with in a battle of wits like Go. However, the tide of the game had already turned.

‘......At this rate, I will lose.’

Kokushibo stole a glance at Akira. If he couldn't win through straightforward tactics, he had to resort to psychological warfare.

He knew very well what Akira disliked the most.

Sssshhh~

A crimson mist rose from Kokushibo’s body as his frame shrank and his features softened.

In an instant, the muscular warrior vanished, and in his place sat an peerless beauty with long black hair cascading down.

Voluptuous breasts, a slender waist, and an alluring posture.

“......Lord Akira. What do you think of this move?”

The female-transformed Kokushibo slightly hiked up the hem of her kimono, revealing a white, smooth thigh.

Even her voice had changed into a flirtatious tone that sounded like rolling jewels.

“Aggghh!! Hey!! Stop it! I told you to stop that!”

Akira recoiled in horror, dropping the Go stones he was holding.

“Seriously, you're ruining my appetite! It's like a horror movie when you do that!”

“Why do you say that? In this female form, I am beautiful, and even in my original form, I was said to be quite handsome during my human years....”

Kokushibo pulled a fan out of nowhere to cover her mouth and gave him a sidelong glance.

“No, objectively, I admit you're a beauty. Great body too! But the 'contents' are you! Watching an old man who's hundreds of years old mimic a young girl is truly disgusting, you know?!”

Akira was genuinely repulsed. The exterior was a beauty right up his alley, but the inside was a 400-year-old samurai grandpa.

This was torture by cognitive dissonance.

“Hehe... Lord Akira. Do not be so harsh. I am prepared to attend to your bedchamber at any time for the sake of my lord. I was once a man with a wife. My skills at night are as sharp as my swordsmanship....”

As Kokushibo licked her lips and leaned toward Akira, her ample cleavage was exposed vividly.

“I'm not playing! I'm leaving! This is too gross for me to handle!”

When Akira threatened to flip the board, Kokushibo chuckled and showed a victorious smile.

“It was a joke. Please sit. We must conclude the match.”

With a puff of smoke, Kokushibo returned to the appearance of a dignified warrior.

“Haah... there really are no normal people here. Am I collecting crazy people, or am I the one who's crazy?”

Akira washed his face with his hands and sat back down. However, with his mental state already shaken, he ultimately lost that game to Kokushibo.

It was a victory for Kokushibo's underhanded(?) psychological warfare.

As they were bickering, the space in the room fluctuated, and with the sound of a biwa, a woman appeared.

It was Tsubaki. She was dressed in her usual red kimono and was holding a file of documents.

“Chairman, Lord Kokushibo. I apologize for the interruption, but I have an urgent report.”

“Oh, Tsubaki. Great timing. I was about to vomit because this old man kept doing weird things.”

When Akira welcomed her, Kokushibo cleared his throat and looked away.

“What is it? Are those Demon Slayer idiots on the move again?”

“Yes, but... I've found something even more interesting this time.”

Tsubaki proudly spread a map on the table. The map had a spot marked in red amidst complex mountain ranges.

“After months of tracking by our trading company's informants... we have finally pinpointed the exact location of the Swordsmith Village.”

“The Swordsmith Village?”

Akira’s eyes sharpened instantly. Beside him, Kokushibo’s six eyes also widened in unison.

“The Swordsmith Village... A place so secretive... that even the Hashira... must travel there blindfolded and with ears plugged....”

“Indeed. The path was like a maze... but no secret remains hidden before the power of capitalism. We bribed a rice merchant who makes deliveries to the village and backtracked his route.”

Akira smirked at Tsubaki’s explanation.

“See, money really is the best. Muzan couldn't find it for hundreds of years, yet we found it for the price of a bag of rice.”

Akira rested his chin on his hand and looked down at the map.

The Swordsmith Village.

The heart of the Demon Slayer Corps, and the place Muzan had sought so desperately.

Taking control of that place was no different from holding the Demon Slayer Corps by the throat.

“What should we do, Master? Should we wipe them all out? Or burn it to the ground?”

“Now, now, don't be so barbaric. We are a peaceful global enterprise. We should refrain from destruction and slaughter.”

The corners of Akira’s mouth curled up wickedly.

“Let's call it talent acquisition. There are tons of skilled technicians there who could improve the technical power of our Akatsuki Heavy Industries, right? We're going to scout them. Honestly, they're too good for the Demon Slayer Corps anyway. Artisans with that level of craftsmanship are hard to find.”

Akira looked at Kokushibo and asked.

“Old man, don't you feel a bit stiff? Why don't you come along for some fresh air, a bit of shopping... no, a business trip? Since you're an expert on swords, you should have an eye for picking out useful blacksmiths.”

Kokushibo caressed the sword at his waist.

“Hmm... Not bad. The smiths' techniques... they interest me. And if we go there, we'll likely encounter some of the Demon Slayer riffraff as well.”

A cold fighting spirit emanated from Kokushibo’s eyes.

“Good. It's decided. We're heading to the Swordsmith Village. The goal is to recruit talented blacksmiths. Tsubaki, pick a few more Upper Moon-level forces and have them on standby. This picnic is going to be quite noisy.”

“Yes, sir! I will prepare immediately.”

Akira fell into a pleasant dilemma. Which blacksmiths should he bring back?

What kind of weapons would be born when their craftsmanship met Akatsuki’s capital? And how thrilling would the expressions of despair on the Demon Slayers they met there be?

The Demon King's toy box was just about to open toward the Swordsmith Village.

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