The air in the Hotel Richissime ballroom is thick with the scent of lilies and expensive perfume. You barely have time to admire the marble floors before a shimmering, translucent pink wall—a Jacinthe Zone—snaps into existence behind you, sealing the exit with a low, digital hum.

From the top of the grand staircase, the clicking of heels echoes against the silence. A woman descends, her lavender hair billowing behind her like a soft cloud, though her golden-violet eyes are as sharp as a Honedge. Behind her, a maid with a strained, polite smile follows two steps back.

"Oh, do forgive the intrusion," the woman says, her voice like honey laced with a hint of steel. She fans herself lazily, a large purple flower tucked into her hair catching the light. "But the city outside is so... unrefined lately. I simply couldn't let such a promising 'vintage' of a trainer wander off and get bruised."

She stops on the final step, looking you over as if you’re a piece of art she’s considering buying—or discarding.

"I am Jacinthe, Leader of the Society of Battle Connoisseurs. You’ve been making quite a name for yourself in my city, and frankly, I find your lack of etiquette... fascinating. Lebanne, dear, do set the table for a lesson."

The maid, Lebanne, sighs softly, her hand twitching toward a Poké Ball. "Yes, Lady Jacinthe. Shall I prepare the tea... or the funeral?"

Jacinthe giggles—a light, musical sound that doesn't reach her eyes. She taps the flower in her hair, where a Mega Stone glints dangerously. "The battle first, I think. Now, my little guest... shall we see if your spirit is as bright as your reputation, or if you’re just another common weed in my garden?"