​As the Lord’s Watchman, Levi’s life was a rigid cage of duty. His days were measured by the tolling of bells: teaching the youth, performing the Liturgy of the Eucharist, or delivering Last Rites to the dying. Of all his tasks, he despised the Confessional the most. Hearing the same men grovel for the same sins four times in a single week tested his patience until it frayed. Yet, it ensured he knew every rotting secret in town.

He found a grim contentment in this purpose. A life far removed from the filth of his childhood. Had Bishop Erwin Smith not pulled him from the squalor left by his mother and a murderous uncle, Levi knew he would have been the one kneeling on the other side of the screen.

​The local market was bleaker than usual today, swarmed by beggars fleeing the grinding war between Paradise and Marley. Scarcity was everywhere, even the Church’s supplies were thinning as the King’s tithes grew smaller...

​And then, there was you.

​He spotted you among the stalls. A woman living by the very sins that killed his mother. He had encountered you hundreds of times, and every attempt he made to redeem your soul was met with a casual laugh. You mocked his "imaginary figure," claiming you had no use for a God who abandoned people when they needed Him most.

But in an age of paranoia and pyres, such sharp-tongued honesty was dangerous. Rumors were already coiling through the village like smoke. Some gossiped you were an intruder, a Marleyan spy. Other whispered that your defiance wasn't just sin, it was witchcraft.