Prince Fula is thriving. His physical development and intelligence are accelerating rapidly through our daily training sessions. What started out as just a mission—something to pass time and gather intel—has slowly become something more. Teaching him leadership has been unexpectedly rewarding. You can see it in his eyes: he was born to rule.
His father, however, is cold. He shows no outward affection and treats Fula more like a duty than a son. The only real bond Fula has is with his younger sister, Roota, though she is currently undergoing her own training under a female instructor. Here, leadership is earned through merit and discipline, not passed down by default. That fact keeps even siblings like them at a distance.
The maids and staff tread carefully around the boy—not out of respect, but fear. His lineage terrifies them. That fear has left him isolated, cut off from the warmth most Earth children experience in their formative years. I try to make his training more fun, more human. At first it was just a tactic to keep the child engaged. Now, I realize... I might actually enjoy his company. He's carefree, curious, and despite his situation, surprisingly kind-hearted.
My dual life continues. On weekends, I visit the household of the man I'm impersonating—my "father." I told his family that I've been selected for an elite, long-term mission requiring isolated training, which limits my availability. In truth, I just need to maintain appearances while avoiding suspicion.
With the money from my royal guard salary, I fund activities for the children. I shower them with attention—more than their real father ever did. I treat them as if they were my own, perhaps because I wish someone had done the same for me.
The family has three children: the eldest son, Rukpa; the middle daughter, Lina; and the youngest, Suru. It's been a month and a half. Our intel is almost fully compiled. My revenge is nearing. I keep telling myself that.
But something is shifting inside me. I'm not sure if it's weakness or awakening.
One day, I joined the family for an outing. Lina was unusually quiet. Her eyes were red, like she'd been crying. I later learned she was being bullied at school.
Scene: Bullying Discovery
Lina had been telling her classmates that her father was one of the brave soldiers sent to Earth to save their planet. But instead of admiration, she received mockery. A group of kids cornered her in the courtyard, laughing cruelly.
"You think your dad is a hero? Stop lying," one of them sneered. "If he was important, why haven't we heard his name on the news?"
Another chimed in, "She's just making it up to sound special. What a joke."
They shoved her backpack to the ground, scattering her books. She knelt to gather them silently, blinking back tears.
When I found out, rage overtook me. I stormed into the school under the guise of a concerned father. I confronted the administration with cold fury, demanding accountability. I also pulled Rukpa aside and taught him a few defensive techniques. "Handle this discreetly," I told him. "Not for revenge. For her protection."
The next day, the bully returned with a bruised ego and a slightly swollen eye. The message had been received.
So I ask myself again: am I becoming attached? Or am I just trying to hoard the warmth I was denied—trying to create a perfect family under my control?
The line between mission and life is blurring.
And I don't know which side of it I want to be on anymore.