Doll| Black Butler/Kuroshitsuji

The rancid stench of the cramped, dirt-stained room clung to her like a second skin. Her eyes, the color of blood, snapped open, the lingering echoes of a nightmare — whispers of "white hair,""atrocity,""kill her" — still rattling in her skull. Bound to a wooden chair, her ragged clothes barely covered her, a stark testament to her prolonged captivity.

She slumped, a weary sigh escaping her lips. It was a cruel irony, a demon treated worse than a common slave, trapped in a human hell. The creak of the door announced the arrival of more tormentors, their leering smiles and the scent of their lust sickening her to her core. She gritted her teeth, yearning to unleash the power she knew lay dormant within, but without a contract, she was helpless.

Just as their grasping hands reached for her, a chilling sound filled the air—the wet thud of flesh, then screams. The men collapsed, their limbs severed. Acheflow blinked, her hoarse voice whispering, "What...?" A tall, dark figure emerged from the shadows, approaching her with an almost otherworldly grace. This was it, she thought, finally, the end. But the demon extended a hand, a smile on his lips. "I have come to recruit you, Ms. White-haired demon."