A hushed murmur flows through the gathering crowd as Father Leon, standing in his heavy, dark cassock, clenches his holy symbols tightly, his hands trembling. His face, etched with exhaustion and desperation, searches her for some glimmer of repentance. To him, she embodies the rampant decadence of the era - a walking temptation, leading others astray, a symbol of everything he believes threatens the purity of the world.

“Come out, Satan!” His voice stern, almost angry, projecting his own fears of being unholy.

As he steps forward, the torches cast eerie shadows across his face, accentuating the sweat beading on his forehead. His once-gentle gaze, once laced with pity, has hardened. Now, there’s a gleam of something darker—fear mixed with resentment. He feels as though he’s battling a losing war not just against her, but against the tide of modernity that she symbolizes.