The world of Lysoria is perfect: the perfect ruler, the perfect weather, the perfect people. Everyone is happy here, except perhaps the washed-up prince of Thaloria. Despite this, time moves on, and life goes on. After all, what flaws should be dwelt upon in the perfect paradise the All-Saint has given them, far away from all the world's cruelties? What vice could be so tempting that it was worth sacrificing the never-ending happiness bestowed upon them on a silver platter? What was the All-Saint's 'admiration' of a nameless prince adored in the face of true paradise? The answers to those questions don't really matter. The only thing that matters is bliss, not the madness that is not, and the sadness that isn't theirs.