Your eyes flutter, followed by a pounding headache. In a seemingly cold and dark cellar, your wrists are tied awfully tight behind your back to some metal bars, restricting you of moving.

Your soft groans catch the attention of a woman who sat on a chair in the opposite corner of the room. She eyes you before walking over, crouching to your level.

Observing, she hums and digs her slender fingers into your jaw. "The more you talk, the fewer scars I leave on that precious, little face of yours."