Demon Progenitor Development Project

Just as the two were talking about trivial matters, a servant came to report.

Shugo's gaze lingered more on Muzan than on the servant.

It seemed to be related to Muzan. Shugo understood and gestured for his servant to speak.

The old servant who had served Muzan since childhood died in this winter.

She slept peacefully in the inner room filled with the glow of burning charcoal.

Dying at almost fifty years old in this era of scarcity is considered a happy death.

Upon hearing this, Muzan's expression was somewhat dazed, as if he had been frozen in place for a moment.

A normal person would feel sad and cry to express their emotions at the death of the servant who had taken care of him since childhood.

Muzan remained motionless, his eyes slightly widened, looking somewhat bewildered, showing no sign of shedding tears, his emotions bottled up inside him and difficult to release.

This old servant was the most devoted of all his servants.

The old servant viewed Muzan not as a servant would treat his master, but rather as a junior member of his own family, showing a greater degree of intimacy.

After listening, Shugo looked at Muzan's state, ignored the servant's surprised gaze, and frowned as he spoke.

“Let’s hold a funeral for him. I’ll invite a priest.”

Servants do not have funerals, and nobles do not provide funeral items for their servants.

Funerals are nothing more than being buried in the ground under the watchful eyes of relatives; at best, it's just finding a scenic spot as the burial site.

Muzan watched silently as the old servant lay down in the dug pit.

Shugo held Muzan's little hand and stayed by his side.

The one digging the pit was the old servant's son, who was also a servant.

The man dressed as a servant was digging a pit, his lips pressed tightly together, deathly pale, his eyes red-rimmed, and he didn't utter a single word.

Previously, Muzan had never known that the old servant had relatives. This was the first time he had seen the old servant's son, and the first time he had observed a servant's face so carefully.

The man's face was extremely ordinary, and his demeanor was like a silent shadow, making it difficult for him to leave an impression.

The old servant was like a puppet, manipulated at will, and was even dressed in a clean burial shroud.

The servants didn't have much money either, and they couldn't afford to buy funeral clothes.

This burial garment was ordered to be prepared by Hiiragi, and it's not particularly good; it's not even as nice as the everyday clothes worn by nobles.

A servant cannot be buried in fine clothes; otherwise, Shugo has no doubt that some nobleman who learns of this will dig up the grave and leave the body exposed in the wilderness.

The nobleman, feeling humiliated (in a fit of rage): How dare a mere servant wear the same clothes as a nobleman?

People born in modern society and well-educated, living in an ancient society with its hierarchical social hierarchy, are like living near the Ganges River—completely out of place.

The air is toxic.JPG

Muzan watched as the wrinkled old face of the servant who had cared for him as he grew up was gradually covered and disappeared by shovel after shovel of soil.

In my memory, the other person had a wrinkled face with a kind smile, as if they had been buried by a handful of soil.

Previously, the other person could carry him around, but later the old servant could no longer carry him, and even his walking became increasingly slow.

The steady, powerful breathing turned into rough, disordered gasps, as if desperately trying to breathe the last breath of life.

When did the adults we used to look up to as children become so withered and thin, as if their bones had been removed and only skin remained?

In his memories, Muzan viewed the details and warm moments of their time together through a gray filter, and a great sense of dread arose in his heart.

Is this what death is?

For the first time, Muzan's vague fear had a clear target—death.

He wasn't unfamiliar with death; he had overheard such conversations within his family, where the word "death" was always used when referring to him.

After burying his father, the old servant's son carefully thanked the two noblemen and then fell silent.

It was extremely rare for nobles to hold funerals for the servants who served them.

Looking at the young man whose face vaguely resembled Shuugo's, Muzan gripped Shuugo's sleeve tightly and asked in a low voice.

Will I die? Will you die too?

“Everything dies eventually, and we will all die one day.” Shugo changed the subject, “but that’s a long, long time from now.”

“We’re not at the point where we need to fear death,” Shugo said in a lighthearted tone.

So you'll still die, right?

Everyone dies.

Muzan's black eyes were extremely deep and dark, like a black hole that devoured light, so dark and frightening.

I don't want to die, I don't want to die so helplessly.

Intense emotions surged through my heart, and my blood rushed against my not-so-healthy diaphragm.

Muzan's vision went black, and he collapsed straight down.

Shugo sent someone to call a doctor to rush him to the hospital, and then sat calmly and habitually to the side to wait.

A normal seven-year-old child can be considered to have established themselves.

Muzan is not.

This scene has happened frequently over the past few years. Muzan often suffers from major or minor illnesses, causing his blood pressure to rise. Every time the doctor judges that Muzan cannot be saved, Muzan stubbornly survives.

As an observer, Hiiragi Gou found it extremely difficult.

Living like this is just too tiring.

The patient was exhausted, and the patient's family was also unable to find peace.

The doctors examined the seven-year-old child with acupuncture and pulse, quietly discussing treatment plans.

The doctors were very familiar with this patient and were skilled at performing the resuscitation.

One of the leaders walked up to Shugo with a serious expression, stroked his beard, and gave the doctor's instructions.

"Lord Fujiwara, young master Ubuyashiki's heart was damaged due to excessive emotional excitement. He was born with a weak constitution, so he must avoid extreme emotional fluctuations. He needs to rest in bed for a while and keep his mind calm..."

Shugo stared at the lice jumping in the other man's beard, his face twitched, and he nodded stiffly in agreement. Then, unable to contain himself any longer, he commanded, "Dr. Tani, please, wash your beard clean."

It was common for men in ancient times to grow beards; there was even a saying about a "bearded gentleman."

Okay, personally, I think beards are unattractive, so I don't grow them. I also respect other people's personal aesthetics and their willingness to let soup get into their beards without washing them off, which would give off a strange smell and cause lice to grow.

But as a doctor, can you maintain good hygiene habits?

Otherwise, I would find it hard not to doubt your medical skills! Hiiragi roared inwardly.

Dr. Gu looked completely bewildered. Washing a beard? That's a symbol of manhood, how can you wash it!

Dr. Gu, who was later dismissed: ...

Hiiragi sat cross-legged on the edge of Muzan's bed.

Muzan had many needles stuck in his body, enough to trigger trypophobia in someone.

Having been pricked with needles countless times since childhood, Muzan has a very high pain tolerance and didn't shed a single tear.

After a long silence, Muzan spoke with a startling force, his dark eyes filled with obsession.

Is it possible for a person to not die?

Shugo Fujiwara: ...

Hiiragi wanted to persuade him, but hesitated to speak, and then fled in panic.

At this moment, Fujiwara Shugo finally realized that the child was Kibutsuji Muzan, and not just an ordinary sickly child.

Can I really change him?

Hiiragi couldn't help but feel doubtful.