Joy had never regretted anything in her entire life.
Not when she took down the most corrupt nobles in the kingdom, despite the assassination attempts that followed.
Not when she constantly clashed with her superiors in the church, going against their orders when they strayed from true principles, enduring their wrath and sanctions without flinching.
Not even when she spoke against the Empress herself, risking everything for what she believed was right.
And certainly not when she killed her own father—the man who had abandoned her mother, the man whose family had tortured and imprisoned Maria for years.
She had ended his life and the lives of his family without a single moment of hesitation, without a single whisper of doubt.
Regret was for the weak.
For those who could not accept that setbacks were necessary, that obstacles existed to be overcome, that only by facing trials could one grow stronger in faith and in spirit.
