A Cinderella Demon Tale: Sukuna and Cinderella

Chapter 10: Beneath the Demon's Rage

Amidst the bustling market, Sukuna suddenly heard the grumbles of a man, his slurred words and erratic movements catching his attention. The altercation unfolded before his eyes as the drunkard had cornered a fruit vendor, his agitated behavior causing a growing commotion. Things took a tense turn when the drunkard carelessly bumped into Cinderella, causing her hood to slip off her head. In an instant, her radiant blonde hair gleamed like a halo in the bright sunlight, and the drunkard's voice rang out, venomous and loud, "The Cursed Child! You!" Cinderella's face darkened, hollowed instantly. Sukuna then realized her meticulous wardrobe change was for the sake of concealment instead of modesty.

As the drunkard's accusation echoed through the market square, a hushed rustle surged through the crowd, like dry leaves quivering in an autumn breeze. Fingers pointed like accusing arrows, and curious eyes shifted towards Cinderella. Whispers, like the distant murmur of a river, slithered through the gathering. The crowd, fueled by the salacious gossip that had spread like wildfire throughout the town, believed her to be the cursed child, the alleged harbinger of her family's ruin and her father's tragic demise.

Cinderella's world felt like it was closing in, the suffocating weight of judgment pressing down upon her. Her breaths grew shallow and rapid, each inhalation tinged with anxiety as she clenched the edges of her cloak, her knuckles whitening in the process. The beads of sweat on her forehead glistened like delicate pearls in the midday sun, betraying her rising distress to anyone observant enough. Her once-confident stride now wavered, and she stumbled over the cobblestones as she attempted to distance herself from the hostile glares, her movements uncertain and hesitant.

As the crowd's collective fury intensified, one of the nearby merchants, a portly man with a bushy mustache and a round belly, could no longer tolerate Cinderella's presence in front of his humble fruit stand. He raised his voice, his jowls quivering with agitation, and waved a plump finger at her.

He screamed, "You there! Girl! You're nothing but bad luck! You'll ruin my business with your cursed shadow!"

Cinderella, her voice quivering and almost inaudible amid the chaos, attempted to respond, her words nothing more than a trembling murmur, lost in the tumultuous sea of accusations and condemnation. The oppressive weight of the crowd bore down on her, threatening to engulf her in a suffocating abyss of anxiety and despair. Her chest tightened, her breaths came in ragged gasps, and she felt as though the world was closing in around her, leaving her trapped in a nightmarish spiral of fear and helplessness.

The merchant, his face twisted in disgust, reached for a nearby glass bottle, snatching it from a crate with a snarl. He held it aloft, brandishing it menacingly in Cinderella's direction. The glint of desperation and anger flickered in his eyes as he took a threatening step closer.

He bellowed, "I won't tolerate your cursed presence any longer!"

As the situation escalated, Sukuna, concealed in the shadows, found his anger reaching a boiling point. How could anyone dare to threaten Cinderella, this girl who is so kind? With his patience finally snapped, he could no longer remain hidden. His presence burst forth like an unleashed tempest, his aura radiating anger and power, and he emerged from the concealment of the shadows.

Sukuna, his anger still simmering beneath the surface, made his presence known with a snarky tone. His voice carried a biting edge, far from calm, as he addressed the growing crowd.

Sukuna's voice, sharper than ever, "Oh, what a splendid gathering of townsfolk we have here, isn't it? A grand spectacle for a little mishap."

His words dripped with sarcasm and disdain, showing little concern for the brewing conflict.

From the crowd, a voice pierced the tension, addressing Sukuna with a mocking tone.

A woman replied, "Look at that, defending the cursed child, are we? Must be either terribly bored out of your mind or drowning in loneliness to keep such company."