The night following that unfortunate lunch incident, I bid a restful sleep to my advisors and the members of the envoy’s team before melding back into my main body.

My nightly routine started with teleporting into my underground residence and consisted of naming, documenting, and uploading every new batch of citizens that broke off that day into the population database; then transporting them into the pre-nursery in preparation for tomorrow's transfer into their actual nursery in which they’ll reach their first evolution and sprout legs. A good day usually had more than a thousand new orbs break off my skin, while a bad day barely got above nine hundred in numbers. New citizens are often very fragile so the clones stationed in the pre-nursery had to be very gentle and patient when moving them into the designated boxes.

After double-checking that no infant Crlyans were accidentally misnumbered or forgotten, I teleported to the second floor.

Different from the pastel-colored walls, soft lighting, and mellow sound of music on the first floor, the second floor was an amalgam of clinical white walls and stifling silence. Here, citizens whose actions were judged unfit for a mere memory wipe are transported to be reabsorbed into the main core. A fate equal to death.

While the number of citizens qualifying for reabsorption was usually few and in between, today was a special case as a convict who attempted to break the core of their partner was transferred to the facility after a very public and prolific trial.

The blue gates of the empty cells gleamed in the bright pink fluorescent lights, dimming slightly under my shadow as I passed them by.

My movement paused in front of gate number twelve, the only cell being occupied among fifty others.

“Igetis Cyl.” The voice of the convict was foreign to my ears. Lacking the usual cheer and vibrancy I had come to associate with every one of my children, matching his indifferent expression.

“Eveln 2568.” I reply, nodding in greeting.

We fall into a brief silence soon after and I occupy myself observing the features of the only citizen inhabiting this room for the second time in his existence. Big white eyes, grey skin, and upturned lips, so ordinary yet somehow distinctly unordinary.

I crouch down to meet his eyes.

“Tell me…Eveln 2568, why must we repeat history.”

“....”

“I do not enjoy having to face such an-” My hand cups his cheeks gently,“-unpleasant part of myself.”

“….”

“Nor does your lack of empathy or remorse bring me any notion of joy.” I feel my smile dimming and he looks away, breaking eye contact.

“I don’t know why I’m like this.” He says, voice barely audible in the silence.

“I know.”

He looks up sharply, blank expression morphing into surprise.

“But…” I bring down my hand to cup the other side of his head, slowly increasing the force of my grip, “I Just can’t let you go.”

Certainly, not again.

A sharp intake of breath sounds and his claws paw at my hold helplessly.

“P-please.” He pleads, voice croaking and eyes widening.

“Oh honey,” I coo, feeling his flesh beginning to seep through the cracks of my fingers, “…No.”

He breaks.

=================

=================

Cleaning up the body afterward was just as much of a pain as I remembered.

Ugh.

We really do look better than we taste.

Nevertheless, after that box was check marked on my list of chores, I spent the next two hours on floor three integrating the scenes captured by every camera in the country; while simultaneously replying to any new issues that required my input or permission to function.

The next thirty minutes were then spent rolling on my custom-made mattress as my core attempted to breakdance to the beat of the brutal migraine that immediately followed this action.

“Uggggggg…” I groan into my pillow, raising my head to take another swing from my jar of juiced fruits mixed with yeast; or what the rest of the world calls- wine.

Today’s chosen flavor was almost as sweet as I usually prefer. Although, it could use a bit more tart. A lot tart more actually. Maybe I’ll add more berries when making the next batch…..Or citruses? probably more citruses.

“Void.” A curse escapes my lips as I stagger up from my mattress; feeling pleasantly buzzed and my vision wavering slightly before standing still. I deposit the empty fifty-liter flask into my storage space and stumble my way into the bathroom.

The underground facility being my oldest and most lived-in residence, every part of it is arranged the way I preferred by the clones tasked with its daily cleaning. I find the warm tones of green, pink, and blue comforting, just as I found the large amount of room I had despite being almost eighteen feet tall a bit freeing.

My favorite part of the night began with running hot water into my comfortably large marble tub before turning on my playlist of soothing sounds of ocean waves crashing violently against their shores on a windy day.

It fulfills my wish of being at the ocean without having to actually make time in my schedule to visit the ocean.

As white steam begins to rise from the water slowly filling out the tub, I open the cabinets hidden in the wall to take out the items I use for in my usual bath.

Brushes for various parts of my body, dental products, soaps, scented oils, core polishers, horn polishers, hair products, aether enhancers, eye polishers, and many more.

The entire process usually only took three hours at most.

But today was a bad day.

Merely getting out the bits of skin stuck between my teeth had taken more work than I had expected, and so had cleaning the taste out from my tongue.

Blegh.

I spit out into the running sink. Rinsing my mouth with water before spitting it out once more for extra measure.

Then I proceed to stare blankly into the marble sink, a feeling of de Ja Vu settling upon me…

Oh! right. The water.

Void.

A quick glance at the tub prompts me to quickly turn off the running tap.

It looks hot enough but I bend slightly to dip my hands in the water and it’s…

Perfect.

One hundred and ten-degree celsius in temperature.

I nod to myself, feeling pleased. That’s Just the right side of boiling hot.

The fabric of my outfits these days is usually less fragile than they once were, but they also cost a lot more so I take care to fold them carefully into my laundry box.

Dry clean only, I write on a small note. Tagging it on the pile in order to prevent my future self from accidentally throwing them into a washing machine.

Void, what a quick way to ruin perfectly good clothes.

I grimace slightly at the memory, before moving to dump the products taken from the cabinets into the bubbling hot water, immediately resulting in the formation of colorful bubbles and the emergence of a pleasantly familiar aroma.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

The next fifteen minutes are spent scrubbing every part of my skin before moving on to parts requiring gentler movements like my eyes or ears.

“Huuuu…” I breathe out. Cushioning my weight against the tub with my arms before slowly sliding down to submerge my head fully into the water.

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

Tick

… I follow the chimes of the feline-shaped clock hanging on the bathroom wall, my artificial heartbeat coming to a stop and eyes slipping shut as my mind stills into….emptinesses.

***********

“Gasp!” I emerge from the water some hours later, all four facial orifices leaking, hair wet against the nape of my neck, and the presence of fully recharged aether thrumming delightfully under my skin.

Gingerly, I raise from the now cooled tub, mind feeling pleasantly clear and thoughts running much smoother than they did the day before.

The hiss of the shower as it’s turned on is a welcomed sound, almost as much at the warmth of its water rinsing off my skin.

I stop the spray, carefully toweling myself dry before exiting the bathroom.

The clock hanging on my northern wall chines with every strike. An agreeable enough sound to fill the silence, I suppose. I glance briefly at the time-5am- before teleporting to floor four, where I kept my clothes.

The size of my dressing room can only be justified by its second usage as a history museum.

As the ruler of a county where I privately own almost every economic facility, the means on which I could spend my income are often very few.

Creating charities and funding countless amount of clubs is fun but can sometimes get a bit mundane.

So I spend my time shopping.

Vehicles, jewelry, artwork, you name it.

Post-isolation I even introduced magazines from other continents into our choice of monthly subscriptions.

Every month we get millions of materials shipped by these magazines and I think last month's most common item was a gun that shot out snow when you added water.

Were they made with the size of adult Cyleans in mind? I sincerely doubted it.

But we’re they fun to play with? Yes.

A lot of fun.

I try to donate a certain amount of clothing annually but a thousand years really adds up. Clothing from the previous millennials are all stored in some corner of my mind collecting dust since my museums and vaults were too small to fit them all.

Today I’m feeling particularly stern so my ensemble consists of a large beige, intricately decorated derby hat and a green-themed outfit to match.

After adding some jewelry and stepping into platform shoes customized to give me an inkling of my former height, I unlock my secret cabinet of…specialized fragrances with my aether imprint, my smile waning at the sight of the carefully preserved bottles.

I had thought my days of being forcible, um, persuasive were over but-desperate times call for desperate measures.

My hand reaches for a bottle of glowing red liquid before pausing at the less potent option stored below it.

Ugh.

Succubi essence and incubi marrow.

Do I enjoy remembering my phase of dabbling into the occult?

No.

But we’re they productive?

Yes, very much so.

Oh, the fun I had creating new potions and curses. A lot of the problems I had in my earlier, much weaker years were actually solved with the help of witchcraft.

I remember a particularly malicious group of human neighbors who seemed to delight in raiding my food pantries and stealing my hard-raised cattle at night.

My first two visits to the lord got me nothing more than a scoff of dismissal before he rode off into his castle on his white-haired steed, surrounded by his entourage of armored knights.

The year following their action I struggled to keep my citizens fed and had to result in only re-absorbing a large majority of them to survive the winter.

As soon as spring began I worked myself to the brink of exhaustion expanding our farms to prevent such a traumatic situation from ever reoccurring, but the night the group of knights raided my settlement once more- I understood what a waste of my time it had been to attempt reasoning with the lord.

Poisoning their water supply was clearly the more effective option.

However, now I don't need poison or plagues or even love potions, I just need the envoy to be a little more easily persuaded today.

I swear It’s not mind control.

I’ve tried being friendly and open for the past three years, and clearly, that’s getting us nowhere. At this pace, it’ll take another millennial before I gain even a fragment of their trust and that’s just time I don’t have.

So I just need his recommendation for an interview to become an honorary member of the hero society then we‘ll both part our ways feeling satisfied at having such a productive discussion.

Since for some reason I simply cannot fathom, humanoids trust their heroes more than they trust the government institutions they created to protect them.

While becoming part of the continent’s federation would have been a pain to accomplish, I think becoming an honorary hero would be more akin to a chronic pain that’ll still be felt years later in my life.

Nevertheless, beggars can’t be choosers.

As an honorary member of the hero society, I would seem infinitely more trustworthy to other humanoids, and maybe it would lessen their hostility towards my citizens and their stern belief I’m an evil alien; since surely an evil alien wouldn’t be accepted into an organization created to protect humanoids.

Surely.

==================

My arm freezes slightly before reaching the picnic basket, but I play it off..

“They accidentally recruited evil aliens?”

“Yes,” Envoy Nick’s brow raises inquisitively, his voice muffled by the food in his mouth. “I’d have thought you knew all about that. Considering you’re one of them.”

Haha.

I try to laugh it off since we’re having such a great time, and forming such a great bond. Alone. With the cameras of course, but unlike two certain elves cameras don’t speak.

So far no unpleasant history has been brought up and neither has mind control. But I’m trying not to tempt fate by speaking too much. And envoy Nick certainly became much more amicable with the extra help of the fragrance.

“No…no.” My laughter dies off and I stare into the camera, “I am not an alien. I understand my appearance might make you think otherwise but- just like everyone out there, I’m a native of this planet.” Maybe, if I say it enough times it’ll stick with the viewers?

My council members called it mental conditioning. Apparently, the media uses it in their ads a lot.

“All right.” Envoy Nick scoffs.

An unfamiliar expression on his usually genteel features.

Odd.

“Everyone knows you’re an alien. Don’t know why you keep on denying it. It’ll probably help you more if you just admit it.”

I think I used the wrong bottle.

“Really?”

“Yup,” He motions at the empty park. Well-tended trees and flowers dance slightly in the morning breeze.

“Just take a look at your damn park. Perfect grass, perfect sun, every one of your little damn minions with their annoying perfect little faces and perfect smiles. It’s bizarre. Straight up bizzare. Nobody smiles that much. I’ve been here twenty times and I’ve never seen you without that damn creepy smile of yours.” Oh look, the camera malfunctioned again.

The sound of expensive technology hitting the blue concrete floor does nothing to discourage Nick from his voicing his unsolicited opinion of my country, seemingly even encouraging him.

“We keep coming back ‘cause something just feels wrong about you guys. It’s weird that you have no prison cells or criminals to speak of. It’s weird you have no homeless or impoverished people and even your ’financially struggling’ citizens are middle class according to the continent's average living conditions-”

Truth potion?

No, it couldn’t be. I remember storing them separately.

“Humans don’t function that way, and neither do elves or beast-folks, heck, even Mer-men who are genetically closer to fish than humanoids act more human than you guys-”

I don’t remember Succubi and Incubi having truth potion effects.

“Every time I’m sent on one of these inspections I check over my will ‘cause I don’t know if I’m ever coming back. Your face is genuinely-“

What did I make this fragrance for?

I remember it had something to do with persuading a certain elven sorcerer to stop trying to kidnap my citizens for experimentation.

How did I-

“-frightening to look at. I can’t tell if you even hate or like me ’cause I’ve seen you smile the exact same way at literal chicken shit and-“

Ah! Yes, I remember.

He accidentally spoke about his ambition for the throne in front of his king’s court and was soon beheaded.

Fun times.

“-I'm not even sure I want you to like me since you’re honestly such a horrible-“

I cut off envoy Nick's next words by abruptly slapping him on his back.

Oops.

I think I used too much force.

Nevertheless, his expression as he tries to raise from his position on the ground is surprised rather than angry.

“I- I couldn't stop taking.” He gazes up at me, face looking a bit haunted. “I knew I had to stop but- I couldn’t stop talking.”

“It’s okay.” I smile sadly at him, lowering my eyes, “I understand my previous actions might have given you a bad impression-“

“No! no,” He splutters, quickly raising to his feet, “That was completely unprofessional of me-“

“No.” I interrupt, willing as much sadness as I possibly can into my voice, “ I’ll make sure to have a word with my contacts at the SRO.” According to the expert human behavior reference site wikiHow, turning your head to the side makes you look infinitely more melancholic.

“I…think it’ll be the best choice of action to withdraw from the world union.”

His face turns paler in the blink of an eye. It's interesting how easily the humanoid blood moves.

“Igetis Cyl, please. I-I’m sure we don’t have to result to such serious - “

I interrupt his words once more, gazing softly at him with a compassionate expression, and taking his limp hands into mine.

“Don’t force yourself to apologize. I understand.”

“But-“

My grip turns a bit tighter “I had hoped your visit would have resulted in less resentment between us. Maybe even the budding of a strong friendship but-“ I chuckle,” I’m beginning to understand how you might’ve found such a concept bizzare.”

He winces guiltily but…not nearly enough.

“You might even think I was silly for ever hoping to support the hero association but- I forgive you.”

Ah!

There we go. That’s the right expression.

“Igetis Cyl-” He attempts to subtly withdraw his hands but what's elven strength in comparison to mine?

“-I’m sure you’ll make a wonderful hero.”

My smile turns a bit rueful and I shake my head, gently releasing his hands.

“I understand you’re wary I’d mentioned the contents of this…incident to your supervisors but, you needn’t lie to me. The time spent post-isolation has made me understand that maybe….” I gaze serenely at the songbird resting on the trees nearby. “..we aren’t ready to face the outside world.”

“No! No, I’m not lying. I’m sure you’d make a- a wonderful addition to the organization!”

“But it’s not about the organization.” A helpless sigh escaped my lips. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience I’ve caused you these few years. But I think we’ve all given it our best attempt, yes?”

“Igetis Cyl! Please, don’t make such momentous decisions so quickly,” His gaze flints around the sparsely populated park, “I’m sure you uh- advisors? would beg you to reconsider-”

“Oh.” I laugh humorlessly,” You mustn’t worry about them. I’ve been the main force behind all the efforts to contact the outside world; I’m sure they won’t mind re-isolat-“

“I‘ll get you an interview into the hero association!” He hurriedly interrupts and I pause slightly, gazing into his hopeful eyes before gently shaking my head gently in refusal.

“I think it’s a little too late for that.”

I teleport away.