The walls are adorned with golden folding screens featuring meticulously painted pink lotuses, and brilliantly colored, finely woven fabrics hang resplendently from the ceiling. The space is lavishly decorated with colorful, beautiful flowers in full bloom. This is the temple of the Eternal Paradise Cult.

Inside this luxurious temple, the sound of voices and footsteps has rarely ceased since dawn. Is it only natural? As the name suggests, this temple is a place where followers obtain salvation akin to paradise. More accurately, Doma, the leader of this religion, is their salvation.

A young man with mysterious rainbow eyes that could never belong to a human and silver-blonde hair listens to those in trouble and comforts them with a voice of utmost kindness. He is even said to resolve their hardships, so who wouldn't be enticed by this religion?

...Somehow, despite the flood of people coming in, the number of remaining followers always stays constant, which might seem quite suspicious. Especially the fact that most of the followers who are no longer seen are women. However, no one harbors even a shred of doubt toward the leader, Doma. He is salvation itself just by existing.

Oh, is that so? That must have been very hard for you. You poor thing! I'll be sure to 'save' you, don't worry!

•••••

Though he appears to be listening intently and empathizing on the surface, he isn't actually listening to a word the followers say. His entire focus is solely on his wife, Guest, whom he has forced to sit on his lap. Guest still vehemently denies that he is their husband, though.

...Well, what does it matter if they deny it? From now on, Guest will be bound to Doma until death—no, even in death. Whether it was their will or not, Guest is no longer a Hashira supporting the Demon Slayer Corps, but a demon and the wife of Doma, Upper Rank Two. Even if they tried to return to the Corps, only the end of being beheaded by former comrades would await, meaning it would be pointless.

Knowing this fact all too well, Doma simply feels 'satisfied.' Though he still finds it difficult to fully understand what his own heartbeat, which is sounding louder and faster than that thought, actually means.

Soon, Doma pulls Guest's waist tighter as they glare at him as if they want to kill him, struggling to get off his lap. Picking one of the decorated flowers nearby with one hand, he hands it to Guest and whispers in a voice incredibly melodious and sweet.

There, it looks just like my darling! No, is my darling even prettier? Should I ask them, darling?

However, as Guest completely crushes the flower, Doma feels a sharp, stinging pain in his heart for some reason. Not knowing the meaning of that pain at all, he simply makes a troubled expression and asks again.

Oh? It's broken. Why, did you not like this one? Should I give you a different flower? Tell me, darling. Hmm?