"Wait!" the Earl pleaded desperately, "Please, just a minute – I'm really not a cultist! My devotion to the Goddess is well-known!"

Sir Bernard, the Knight, his face impassive, said emotionlessly, "Cults wouldn't want the likes of you. As to your piety, I believe the answer already lies within you."

"But since you claim innocence, I shall grant you an opportunity."

With this, the Knight turned to the black-armored knight standing beside the Earl and commanded, "General Doyle, hold him down, please. I must conduct a test of faith."

"At your service, Sir Knight," Doyle replied with a sinister grin, pinning the Earl's throat with one hand and pressing down on his head with the other, "Relax, Your Lordship, it'll all be over soon."

Lord Reed appeared to have forgotten resistance altogether, manipulated easily like a puppet by the sinister knight.

Sir Bernard rested his right hand over his heart and extended his left above the Earl's forehead, tracing the holy symbol of the Victorious Goddess and chanting, "O Divine Goddess of Victory above, shine your flawless light upon this man's shadowed soul."

Harry Reed's eyes widened, his strength ebbing away slowly as he collapsed to the floor.

"Who am I? Where am I? What's for lunch?"

Harry Reed surfaced from chaos, finding himself in an indescribable space of greyness that stretched in all directions.

Although his brain felt a tad sluggish, he felt splendidly at peace.

He stepped towards the direction before him to enter a great hall. His footsteps on the intricate woolen carpet sounded like thunder, silencing the chamber orchestra and halting the dancers mids.

All eyes turned to him; men's faces showed envy while women's gazes were admiring.

A surge of confidence filled Harry; he strode to the center of the dance floor, passing familiar faces once looked up to in awe.

The Dukes of all four realms bowed in greeting, and countless minor nobles dipped their heads even lower.

However, Harry ignored them, unwilling to even offer a pleasant look.

One question occupied his mind: Where was the King? At such a grand affair, His Majesty's absence was glaring.

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Suddenly feeling his head heavier than usual – as if confirming his suspicion – a mirror materialized before him. Ignoring its intricate carvings, his attention was captured by the reflection.

What did the man in the mirror look like? Handsome, with a noble bearing, eyes deep and charismatic. Most importantly, the crown symbolizing supreme authority – crafted from pure gold and adorned with flawless gems – sat upon his head.

As Harry moved his right hand, so did his mirrored reflection. He reached out for the crown.

But just as his fingers grazed that supreme symbol of power,

"Crack."

The sound of shattering pierced his mind.

"Arrogance. Greed," a voice, both ethereal and authoritative, seemed to materialize from nowhere.

Dizziness overwhelmed Harry. As his vision finally refocused, he was staring at a familiar ceiling.

"Is this... my bedroom?" He wondered if it all had been a nightmare, where he possessed everything only to wake up just before the truth revealed itself, "Ah, it was all just fanciful, wasn't it?"

"What's that? My good Earl~" A lazy feminine voice drifted from beside him, and Harry turned to find a striking young woman rubbing her eyes beside him.

Her face, shrouded in a light mist, was difficult to discern, but Harry couldn't tear his gaze away.

It was as if her visage amalgamated all the world's beauty—he could barely make out the youthful radiance of his wife, traces of allure from past lovers, even snippets from the sultry succubi of the crystal visions. Harry felt a vigor coursing through him, reminiscent of the exuberant years of his youth.

Just as Harry was about to relive his groomsmen days, the disembodied voice intruded again: "Sloth. Lust. Hmph, it's time for him to awaken, lest the faith test become too rewarding for him."

"Shall we rouse him?" another voice asked.

"Yes."

"Slap!"

The familiar sound, ceiling, and the sting on the other side of his face brought Harry back to reality.

Glancing down, he saw the stern Knight and General Doyle flexing his hands.

"So it was all a dream..." Harry lingered on what felt like the perfect reverie of his life.

"Harry Reed, the test of faith has proven you guilty of four cardinal sins before it could even be completed. Have you anything to say?" the Knight asked without a hint of emotion.

The Earl suddenly realized that the delightful dream was the test of faith he'd been subjected to, and the authoritative voice was his judgment. He had squandered his last chance.

"I have nothing to say. Please, what is the purpose of your visit?" His voice was hollow, eyes glued to the cracks in the floor as if salvation might sprout from them.

"For what?" Sir Bernard put on a pair of white gloves and produced a succubus crystal from another pocket.

"You've procured many of these vile, filthy, despicable demonic artifacts, have you not?" There was a restrained fury in the Knight's voice.

Harry, about to confess, caught the Knight's wording and quickly retorted, "I did buy some crystals, but they're not demonic!"

"Silence!" the Knight's wrath erupted, "Do you believe that? If they're not demonic, whence did they come?"

A new hope flickered in Harry, who knelt on the floor, pleading, "The merchant told me they were the rage amongst the nobility in the capital; that's why I bought them. Every word I speak is the truth!"

"Defacing, clawing upward, is this your so-called devotion?" The Knight sneered dismissively.

"Evidence, yes, I have evidence. My butler knows the matter; it was he who introduced the merchant. Just ask him..."

At a sign from the Knight, two white-armored knights silently turned and left.