"「愛」Identity V x Reader Oneshots"

Y/n, The Doll Hunter Lore

Let's get to it then ww Uhhh just a warning, I'm not sure if the timeline is compatible with the actual Embalmer's timeline
Also, my tabs while writing this is kind of explainable, right xD

Let's use Y/n for the meantime :)
=u=

At (birth date) 1780, a noble human was born to this cold, cruel world. A human with the brightest of e/c orbs, and the softest of h/c locks. Her smile was also the brightest, a smile that could shine like the sun. Such a pretty girl, however, her mother despised that. Oh how she wished she hadn't brought a child. Everyday, you were gifted with dresses from your father, however, you were not spoiled, as he had thought you to be content, and be happy with that you have.

Your mother, however, was vile. Often causing bad reputation on herself. She was simply blinded by wealth, and what more if your father was a wealthy noble? Your father was dense, unfortunately. Your mother would threaten you, and hurt.you whenever your father isn't around, whether he'd be in his study room, busy, or out in the outskirts of London, you would be assaulted with no remorse.

As you grew, you have become quite ill, and weak. The doctors couldn't find the cure to what you have as it was a new disease. In the age of fifteen, you were bedridden, and so you were homeschooled with private tutors. All the tutors have agreed on one thing; you had the voice of an angel, as stated by your father. The maids would giggle, and so would the butlers, when they hear the sounds of small christmas bells, which was your voice. You were pleasing to the ears, however that vile woman, your mother, was envious.

One day, when your father wasn't around, you sat unmoving as your mother snarled at you. "I have had enough with your voice. Everytime you speak, my ears ring from deafness. You really are a monster child," she held a cylinder where letters were normally placed in as she beat you up, damaging your chest and your neck, as you gasped in pain. "You!" Pain. "Are!" Pain. "A!" Pain. "Wretched!" Pain. "Girl!" Pain continued to follow throughout as all your mother's frustrations roamed around the room. She panted, looking at the unmoving girl near her, and spat.

For the following days, you realized that you couldn't speak, and pain would follow when you do. You realized that you were now voiceless, a hoarse and grungy tone replacing your angelic voice. Everytime you speak, pain shots through your neck, everytime you eat, you felt like choking. Your mother, a sneaky little rascal had brushed off the issue, saying, "It must be part of her disease!" With a feigned gasp. Oh how cruel that female was.

Since then, you were silent. The maids and butlers took pity at your frail form. However, it was not the end. As your father had businesses at another manor, you were filled with running thoughts on your head. What more? What more could your mother do to possibly threaten your life. Unknowingly, it would be the last threaten of your mother.

You were, as always, in your room, a letter cylinder in hand as you read the contents, your father's kind-hearted words making you smile softly. "Ms. Y/n," you hear a maid knock as she called your name. "A man wants to see you," the door opens revealing a man. He wore a gray jacket and gray trousers, holding a toolbox of some sort. He had a mask on, and his hair was tied to a rat tail. His hair was also gray. He looked to be a little old, his late thirties or early forties, assuming. "So you are that beautiful girl your mother was talking about," he started as he walked to your bed, seating on a chair, where your father sat when he wanted to see you. Your eyes slightly narrowed at his action. "Do not fret. I am not here to harm you," said the man. "Rather I am here to make... an offering," he smirked, unseen by your doe eyes.

"Surely you must have thought about ending the pain once and for all, haven't you?" Your eyes narrowed at his introduction. "No? Don't kid. I know many people like you, who have thought about entering death's sweet embrace," the man made a hug motion to himself. "I am here to guide you," his eyes wrinkled as if he was smiling. "I am an embalmer. I make the dead as pretty as they were when they lived," he introduced himself. "And, oh my, you are indeed fit to be my client," he smirked.

You looked at the man with a cautious gaze. You shook your head, unwilling to give up the only dangling string of hope you have in living a life normally. He narrowed his eyes. "What do you get by living this poor, weak, and unfortunate life of yours? If you continue further, you will only hurt more. The slashes of society, the spiteful words of the nobles to lower classes, isn't this world so vile? We can't forget your mother here, as well, can we?" He smirked.

You shook your head, and murmured, voice hoarse, and grungy, "I... want... to... live," you said between breaths.

"I guess I should have rephrased it," suddenly he gripped both of your weak arms as he trapped you in your bed. You struggled weakly, as the man pulled out a syringe of strange liquid. "I'm giving you an offering, and it'd be rude to accept it. You don't have a choice, doll," he plunged the syringe gently on your neck as your body starts to struggle less, your bright eyes dimmer, and dimmer, as you were induced to eternal sleep, held by sweet death's embrace.

"How beautiful you are. See? You are much better like this, unmoving, and in peace," he caresses your cheek. "For a beautiful corpse like you, to rot is not an option... I know. I'll make you a doll, a beautiful antique doll, and have you in my room to watch," he chuckled deeply, as he held you. "I shall preserve your beauty, a beauty that only I can see," he whispered.

In 1805, there was your death, and the start of the embalmer's obsession. In the middle of his room, sat a doll, with porcelain skin, blushed pink on the cheeks, and ears. Its lips were permanently shaded rose, and its eyelids were dusted pink at the edges. It remained unmoving, and its eyes are closed. The embalmer before the doll caressed it's cheeks, nearing his face to your ear. "My little doll," he whispered tenderly, lips touching its porcelain-toned ears. The embalmer leaves, a delightful expression.

In the year 1820, the doll was still alive, however the strange paranormal incidents were active. Every client's demise would be greeted by a young girl, and some of them would even see her smiling, yet crying, however she does not make a sound. They would see porcelain hands holding the girl in a hug, as if she was sad. The clients souls would hug the weeping girl, as their existence sprouts a new limb to hold...

By 1870, the doll had disappeared completely, along with her only possession, an antique cylinder with her father's message to her... "I found a nice dress for you," was written...

You wake up to that same room...
After a few seconds of nothing, but the grandfather's clock ticking, a nightingale perched in the window, wearing a masquerade mask. It chirps, and chirps.
For a human being, no one would even know what it was saying, however, this was no ordinary bird. It drops a letter, an envelope with stamp, and flies back to the dark nights. The doll's eyes opened, revealing a black hollow void, until e/c colored orbs glowed in the dark. You carefully moved your limbs, and stretched down to get the letter. Your eyes scanned the letter at hand.

And for the first time, your tears pooled out of hollowed eyesockets.

__

"Welcome to Oletus manor, Doll," Miss Nightingale said as she drops you to the doors of the hunter's mansion. You walk robotically as you walked inside, the e/c glowing orbs in your hollowed eyes, reflecting in every gold object. A second chance in life is all you've asked, and now you hunt to earn it...