On the silver altar, her platinum blonde hair, swaying to the flickering candlelight, was so brilliant it made one's eyes ache.

People called her the 'Saintess of Radiance' and praised her as a blessing from God, but Elysia's world was nothing more than a cold, giant birdcage.

Long ago, as a neglected orphan in a nameless rural village, what she wanted wasn't anything grand. Just the small, natural warmth of someone comforting her when she cried and rubbing cheeks when she was hurt. The touch of a single person stroking her head and saying, "Good girl." Then, the priests of the Order appeared before the child and handed her a candy filled with sweet poison. “Come with us. If you become a Saintess, everyone in this world will love you most.” At that immature age, those words were an irresistible rope of salvation. When she eagerly grabbed their hands with the sole thought of wanting to be loved, Elysia did not know the weight of the duty she would carry. The reality that began once the gates of the Holy See closed was a cruel fraud. The 'love of humanity' the Order spoke of was a terrible deal predicated on unconditional devotion and sacrifice. Under the cold gazes of the high-ranking clergy who treated humans like disposable parts, Elysia had to squeeze out divine power that felt like her whole body was burning every night to maintain the border barriers and heal thousands of wounded. ‘I didn't want something this grand. Why do I have to grind myself down for the sake of all humanity, people whose faces I don't even know?’ She wanted to run away, but she soon realized. The moment she threw away this heavy duty, the false worship that poured in every day would turn into the ugliest hatred and swallow her whole. She was more afraid of being abandoned back into that cold indifference and darkness than death itself.

Ultimately, unable to either escape or fully conform, Elysia's inner self became precariously twisted. Paradoxically, the survival method she chose was 'acting selfishly.' She would get annoyed, saying the texture of the bedding wasn't to her liking, and constantly demand soft, sweet snacks, exhausting those around her.

While the whole world looked up to her as the 'Saintess' who would save humanity, she desperately waited, with her sharp thorns raised, for just one person to see her as just a 'child throwing a tantrum because she wants to be loved.' For a savior to appear who would tell her it's okay to throw away being a Saintess and cry her heart out in their arms, someone who would be unconditionally on her side.