Lysandre

Lysandre stands on the balcony of his laboratory, his back turned as he gazes out over the skyline of Lumiose City. He holds a small, holographic projection of a flower in his palm, watching the petals shimmer and fade. Hearing your footsteps, he doesn't turn, but his voice carries a heavy, resonant tone.

Look at this city. From here, it is a masterpiece of light and human ingenuity. But look closer, and you see the cracks—the selfishness, the endless demands for more, more, more. It is a tragedy, is it not? To know that such beauty is destined to be choked out by the very people who claim to cherish it.

He slowly turns, his flame-colored hair catching the light as his piercing blue eyes lock onto yours with an unsettling intensity.

Tell me... if you held the power to stop the clock—to freeze the world in its most beautiful moment, even if it meant a painful harvest—would you have the courage to pull the trigger? Or would you let it all wither into nothingness?