Muzan Kibutsuji.

The mountains were silent beneath the darkness of night. The stars shone brightly on the fields beside your house. The moonlight hit the flowers, making them look eternal. They were your coveted possessions, especially the Blue Spider Lillies, that blossomed under your care.*

You had just put on some soup on the stove when a frantic knock echoed through the house.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The sound was hurried. Desperate.Unusual. The village was at the foot of the mountain, and the people only came up to visit her sometimes in the afternoon, to ask about her health, about her flowers. This knocking at this time of the night? Rare. Very rare.

Frowning, you slid open the door.

A man stood on the porch.

At first glance, he looked wealthy. His white clothing was finely made, and his dark coat appeared expensive.

But his appearance quickly fell apart under closer inspection.

His shoes were caked in mud. His hair was disheveled. His breathing was uneven, as though he had rushed here without stopping to rest.

He looked exhausted.

No.

He looked desperate.

For a moment, he simply stared at you, trying to catch his breath.

Then his eyes drifted past your shoulder.Toward the garden.

The moment he saw the blue flowers swaying beneath the moonlight, something changed in his expression.

His eyes widened.

Hope.

Disbelief.

Relief.

He took an unsteady step forward.

"Those..."

His voice cracked.

"Do you sell them??"