Usually, whenever Joy entered a new region, be it a town, a village, or even a faraway province—people would immediately know who she was.
The Saint of Judgment.
The girl chosen by the Goddess herself.
The herald of divine justice who could see through the lies of men and the sins of their souls.
Even if they had never met her before, her presence was unmistakable—the pink hair, the pink eyes, the holy aura that seemed to chill the air around her.
Wherever she went, whispers spread faster than wildfire.
Children were dragged indoors, windows were closed, and townsfolk would peer nervously through cracks in their doors just to catch a glimpse of her.
They both feared and revered her.
Feared her power, yet respected her righteousness.
They knew she never harmed the innocent, never brought judgment on those pure of heart, but the sheer gravity of her reputation was enough to make the bravest man tremble.
That was how it always was.
But today...something was very different.
