Brianne reaches the end of the runway, ready to turn and walk back with her back to the audience, when…
…she freezes.
She's seen something, or someone.
Her eyes are wide, scared, her lips trembling as if about to speak, yet no sound escapes.
She's paralyzed, her gaze fixed on the three far less elegantly dressed than the rest—the guy, the girl, and the old man in the last row.
At that moment, the old man stands up and points a finger at her.
«You, Brianne, should be ashamed! How dare you call yourself a follower of the God of Light, only to display your body in such a disrespectful way? A prostitute, that's what you are! Don't you ever dare show your face in my church again!»
It doesn't take long for security to roughly escort the old man and the two young people with him out, but it's already too late.
Brianne doesn't speak a word, but her body says plenty.
Her eyes swell, tears dripping onto the runway.
