In the dimensional rift, between realms, where no light dared to venture, the goddess Justini floated, bound by invisible forces. Her limbs were restrained, and a blindfold covered her eyes, yet even within that dark void, her divine power radiated brilliantly.

“Justini.”

A voice called her name, and she lifted her head. Before her stood the golden chariot of the World Postal Service.

“It seems the final chapter is about to begin. Are you really going to sit here like this?” the voice taunted.

“If you pity me, you could release me,” Justini replied.

“Ah, that’s not how it works. Rules are rules. If you don’t follow them, what’s the point? You really should have been more careful. What a waste, right at this critical moment,” the postal courier said mockingly, clearly enjoying her predicament.

He was the one who had imprisoned her for breaking the rules, and now he had the audacity to mock her openly.