The deafening music resounded, as the red-robed bishop led a squadron of crusaders into the venue, with great pomp and circumstance.

The guards at the entrance, although keen on stopping the large group of people, were overwhelmed by the two emotionless knights and reluctantly opened the sealed entrance.

Having broken through the defenses at the entrance, the red-robed bishop assumed an overbearing demeanor. He remained in the forefront of the procession and stood out in the most conspicuous position.

With each step, his clever attendants scattered rose petals high into the air, ensuring that the bishop became the "man with petals falling as he appeared."

The crowd that had gathered in the venue suddenly surged forward like rolling waves, under the intimidating presence of the knights brandishing their spears. This was the intended effect.

The purpose of doing so was not to deliberately disturb the peace, but the red-robed bishop believed that the area crowded with the lower class was prominent throughout the entire venue, making it a "prime location."

"The prominent place is where the protagonist should be. Besides me, this handsome and dashing man, who else is qualified to stand there?" said the red-robed bishop, arrogantly.

He proudly raised his neck, as if to show that the sun above his head was shining just for him. Even the sparse strands of hair on his head swayed with the breeze.

His original plan was to stand in a secluded spot, enjoying the treatment that only the protagonist was entitled to receive.

It was a good idea, but a crusader interrupted this fantasy.

"My lord, there's someone ahead!" the red-robed bishop did not even bother to look up, only snorting through his heavy nose.

"Nonsense, how could there be no one in this situation? But it doesn't matter. Let those lower class people witness my magnificence from a distance. It's also fine. I can show them some mercy..."

"My lord! I mean, there's someone standing in that prime 'sunlit spot' and refuses to move!"

"What are you saying?" Thanks to his attendant's reminder, the red-robed bishop finally looked towards the front, where he should have been paying attention to long ago.

When they said "someone ahead," it was actually just one person. Compared to the ordinary citizens who obediently made way, this girl, who only showed her back, stood out in the empty space.

"Hey, you! Move aside. This is the Archbishop of the Church of the Supreme God, and he wants to stand where you are," someone called out to her.

The girl, who was originally busy looking for someone, immediately turned her head to show her profile.

Even just from the side, the red-robed bishop could tell that she was beautiful, which caused his heart to flutter for a moment. But he didn't forget the purpose of his visit - it was for the beautiful queen on the stage. The rest of his amorous targets would have to wait until later.

Moreover, he had set his eyes on that spot!

This was not just a trivial matter of where to stand; it directly affected the bishop's reputation. He couldn't allow the lower class to have their way, even if the person standing there was attractive.

Out of the need to maintain decorum, the bishop did not stop the knights from driving her away. On the contrary, he looked forward to seeing the girl cry after being scolded, and imagined how pitiful she would look.

"Achoo!" The sneeze came out unexpectedly, without any warning, just as the girl lowered her head.

The excessive pollen floating in the air made her nose itch, so the girl instinctively took out a tissue (not a sanitary pad).

"Do you want me to move? Wake up, wake up (sound of blowing nose)," she said.

After the tissue fulfilled its purpose and was disposed of in a trash can three meters away through a "long distance throw," the illusion in the heart of the girl in the red bishop's robe was ruthlessly shattered, thanks to the sneeze that ruined her beautiful image.

"You're asking me to make way? Can you give me a reason first?" she questioned.

The Crusaders, who were essentially "battle machines" born for slaughter, had no sympathy and loudly issued their final ultimatum:

"The Archbishop wants to stand where you're standing. You have five seconds to move, or else you'll miss your chance!"

Although the intimidation was clear, the girl remained unmoved and instead looked at the leader of the group.

"Uncle in the red clothes, why bother? There's plenty of space here. It wouldn't make a difference even if there was one more person. How about I be generous and give up my spot for you and your followers?"

"No, I never like to share, especially not with strangers standing next to me," the red bishop firmly rejected the proposal.

At the same moment, his entourage began the countdown:

"Five, four, three!"

Some women from out of town started shouting at the girl, while others gestured towards her. But whatever they did, these women had a common goal – to persuade the girl to be less stubborn and emphasize the idea of "giving in for a brighter future."

If it were the Church of the Supreme God bullying others right now, then it would have been wise for the girl to heed the advice and choose to avoid trouble if she couldn't handle it.

But neither the spectators nor the knights knew:

There's an exception to everything, and this girl blocking the way was that exception.

Finally, as the countdown representing "last tolerance" reached zero after the words were spoken by the crusaders, the deadline was declared.

The crusaders no longer issued warnings – they immediately lifted their heavy swords from their backs. The sword blades fully extended as their wrists rotated, revealing a sharp and domineering gleam under the sunlight.

"I warned you…" said the emotionless-faced crusader facing the girl, shaking his head.

Immediately, the person shrugged his shoulder, raised his arm, and both hands gripped the sword hilt. The blade, with its cold brilliance and sharpness, descended directly in an intimidating manner.

At that moment, the red bishop sighed as he licked his lips and thought, "What a waste of a beautiful girl! If only she had been more adaptable and hadn't lost her life so early."

The ordinary citizens below, even before the knight made his move, anxiously shouted at the Queen, hoping that Her Majesty would intervene and save the girl.

But the development of the situation would disappoint them.

Not only did the Queen show no intention of dissuading, but she even used one hand to support her cheek, as if she was quite intrigued by the upcoming spectacle.

"Why bother fighting against oneself? So young, so impulsive..." she tsked, making a similar sound that resounded four times at a certain moment, as if four female voices were simultaneously expressing their opinions.