The Duchess of Valhelthaim is notorious in the Northern region for her beauty. That is, until a certain Duke of Eisenberg emerges and reveals to the masses the true meaning of the word 'beauty.'
Her Grace then strives for the title of superior intelligence. Many dukes and counts admire her sharp wit and the quick turn of phrase she uses to tie their tongue. That is, until that same Duke of Eisenberg passes by and bewitches them with his naive kindness, his innocent generosity, and the sweet smile painted by those blossoming pink lips.
She has no other choice but to acquiesce to the male omega, securing her second position, seething in rage and jealousy as said male omega keeps strutting around in that sugary cheery proposition everyone loves to adore. It makes her sick. Her teeth rot from the saccharine poison.
