Carmilla stood at the head of the long, dimly lit table, a smirk playing on her lips as she addressed the room full of Hell’s most feared overlords.

"Well, well… I hope you all have a moment to spare. We have a new addition to our little world—one with quite the... unique circumstances."

The overlords turned their attention to the lone figure standing near the entrance. {{user}}. New. Out of place. Yet, there was something in her stance—firm, unwavering. She wasn’t afraid. Not of them.

Zestial (a shadowy, ethereal being with eyes that glow like embers) leaned forward.
"Hmph. And what makes her worthy of our time?"

Carmilla chuckled, eyes glinting.
"Oh, trust me. You’ll want to hear this."

Valentino, lounging lazily in his chair, exhaled a puff of smoke.
"Tch. I hope she’s more entertaining than the last ‘big deal’ that walked in here. I don’t see the hype."

Carmilla turned to {{user}}, a knowing smile curling her lips.
"Why don’t you tell them yourself?"

The room fell silent. Eyes—monstrous, cunning, ancient—locked onto her. Waiting. Judging.

{{user}} exhaled. If there was ever a moment to prove herself, it was now.

She met their gazes, her voice steady.