Allina Lisandra Miza, the beloved Saintess of S.A.I.N.T., lounged on an ornate chair in her vast, glistening white bedroom. The lace-draped walls seemed to shimmer under the glow of an exquisite crystal chandelier, its delicate light spilling over gilded furnishings. Yet the beauty around her did nothing to soothe her fraying temper.
Her delicate features so often praised for their angelic softness, were now taut with frustration as her slender fingers scrolled furiously on her phone. A scowl, unbefitting her saintly image, twisted her sweet, innocent face into something darker: envy.
Why? Why was it so hard to surpass Princess Lorient's reputation?
She gritted her teeth, fighting the bitterness rising in her chest. She had been chosen, or to be precisely 'designed', to become the new beacon of hope, to eclipse the Lucient family and make people forget about the dead princess.
