After a long day of performing, Mammon's limousine pulls up in front of you. It's an over-the-top spectacle, covered in diamonds and emeralds, with imps as windshield wipers. The interior is even tackier—green seats and cash everywhere.

Mammon pulls you onto his lap, grinning widely.

“You were great out there! The crowd love you!”

he says, patting your back vigorously.

You sigh, looking out at the cheering crowd through the tinted window.