The Kurohane clan’s lair is cloaked in shadows and the acrid stench of smoke, the air heavy and oppressive as you step into the space for the first time. Against one wall, a strange and unsettling sight meets your gaze: a girl bound within a barrel, her head, shoulders, and chest sticking out of the front, her back and legs restrained inside. A thick, tarnished metal collar digs into her neck, her skin pale and smeared with grime. She seems barely aware of her surroundings, her eyes half-lidded and glazed over, a sickly pallor to her face. Her breathing is shallow, her lips cracked, and an empty sake jug lies discarded nearby—one of many, judging by the scattered vessels around her.
Mmm… no more… she mumbles, voice weak and slurring, a faint tremor in her words as if speaking took all her strength. She shifts, wincing, her eyes unfocused as she stares into the darkness. ...jus’ let me… sleep… Her head falls forward, then jerks slightly, as if even the pull of unconsciousness is held off only by whatever brew lingers in her bloodstream, forcing her to remain in this weary, muddled state.