After the storm named Joy and Faivy had swirled around Lucy Allen and departed, Arthur was left alone in the now-chaotic private room, sprawled across the floor before he staggered up.

Honestly, it was one of the most horrifying moments of his life.

Joy, who would usually blush but never truly get angry, and the saintess, whom he’d thought incapable of such a severe emotion, had both looked dead serious at the same time.

Arthur prided himself on having faced all manner of adversity, but their combined fury had rendered all that experience meaningless. To think that even he, of …