Chapter 67: The Red Light District |
Some time later.
Tengen explained the situation regarding the entertainment district.
In truth, he didn't have solid evidence yet; he only suspected that one of the Twelve Kizuki was operating there, perhaps even an Upper Rank. Under normal circumstances, the Sound Hashira would have continued his investigation until his suspicions were confirmed before calling for reinforcements from his fellow Hashira.
But the fact that all three of his wives had gone missing at once filled Tengen with dread, prompting him to seek help from Tanjiro and the others.
The newly appointed Flame Hashira sympathized with Tengen's plight, and a few minutes later, the hastily assembled squad of Demon Slayers departed for the Red Light District.
At roughly the same time, another individual appeared there...
A silver-haired man strolled leisurely down the street, draped in a loose haori.
By all rights, with such noble looks and a refined bearing, he should have been swarmed by the women of the Red Light District.
Almost every girl here dreamed of being noticed and whisked away by a wealthy young nobleman. Unfortunately, time spared no one; even the most exquisite and enchanting oiran would eventually wither with age.
The elite oiran were in high demand among the wealthy and powerful, granting them a certain degree of freedom in choosing their companions—at least when dealing with common customers.
When a truly important figure arrived in the district, almost every oiran from every local brothel would turn out to entertain him.
It was difficult to judge exactly how rich or influential Yeruashi was based solely on his appearance and demeanor. Nevertheless, his arrival was enough to cause quite a stir.
Strangely, however, the noise and chaotic energy of the bustling Red Light District seemed to avoid him.
Neither the samurai nor the girls nor the other pedestrians paid the strolling Yeruashi any mind, as if they didn't even notice he was there.
In this way, he ventured deeper and deeper until he came to a halt before a specific house. He glanced at the sign and stepped inside...
The Kyogo House.
The central room on the top floor belonged to the local oiran known as Warabihime. Oiran were not only entitled to their own private quarters, but they were also spared from soliciting clients on the street like common girls. This was not only due to their high status but also because the average person simply could not afford their company.
A girl sat lazily before a mirror in this room while an attendant carefully applied her makeup. In reality, the cosmetic effort was unnecessary; even without it, she was far more beautiful than any other woman.
Upon closer inspection, one might notice that her skin was perfectly smooth, lacking even the smallest blemish. It was so flawless that it seemed uncanny for a human being.
That was because she was a demon.
Daki, the younger sister of the Upper Rank Six.
Yet, no one in the brothel had the slightest inkling of her true nature—not the other girls, nor the proprietress who saw her every day. And if anyone did happen to grow suspicious, they simply vanished without a trace.
Tap, tap, tap...
Soon, a knock sounded at the door, followed by the proprietress's voice.
"You have a client."
"Isn't it a bit early?" Warabihime asked, slightly surprised. The sun had not yet set, and the district was far from reaching its peak hours. Moreover, as an oiran with the highest rates, she generally had very few clients.
The proprietress stepped inside.
"Well, what is it?" Warabihime asked, turning toward her as she continued to casually brush her perfect hair.
As a famous oiran of high standing, she was extremely selective about her clients and would reject those who displeased her without hesitation. Only "beautiful" humans could whet her appetite.
To a casual observer, Daki might have seemed like a mere oiran, but she effectively ruled the Kyogo House from the shadows. The proprietress obeyed her every command, unable to overcome the primal, instinctive fear she felt toward the powerful demon.
Consequently, the proprietress only allowed clients who were either exceptionally handsome or immensely influential to see her. While the former served to satisfy her hunger, the latter were simply managed. For one of the Twelve Kizuki, deceiving an ordinary human was child's play.
"He's likely a nobleman," the proprietress said, adding with a complex expression, "I've never seen a more beautiful man in my life..."
When Yeruashi first crossed the threshold of the brothel, the proprietress's first thought was that if she were twenty years younger, she wouldn't have been able to resist him. She couldn't help but sigh heavily when she realized he had come for the oiran of the Kyogo House.
Warabihime could mask her cruel nature from strangers, but not from the proprietress, the other workers, or certain regular patrons. It was impossible to count how many handsome clients of the oiran had mysteriously vanished over the years.
Seeking out Warabihime was tantamount to seeking death...
The proprietress had even hinted that the oiran was not yet finished with her makeup and suggested he choose another girl. However, Yeruashi stubbornly ignored every warning.
"Is that so?" Daki murmured, a smile playing on her lips. "Then I'm interested."
It went without saying that she was immediately intrigued by a man whom even the proprietress found irresistible. It seemed that this time, she had found a very fine treasure. Daki was an extremely picky eater, and ugly wretches did nothing to stimulate her appetite.
That smile sent a cold shiver down the proprietress's spine.
"So, what's the problem?" the oiran asked, tilting her head to the side.
"He looks like a nobleman," the proprietress warned after a moment's hesitation.
She turned a blind eye to many of the oiran's deeds because she feared her, but the disappearance of such a high-profile individual could bring unwanted trouble.
"I know my limits, don't worry," Daki smiled in response, then added with a touch of impatience, "Now, bring him in."
A nobleman?
So what...
The fact that she usually avoided touching the wealthiest and most influential clients didn't mean she was afraid. Humans were just humans, regardless of how high their status might be.
What could such a person possibly do to a demon?
If worse came to worst, she could always discard her current persona and craft a new one. It was simply that she didn't want to abandon her comfortable nest in the Red Light District—nothing more, nothing less.