The meeting dragged on forever. It wasn't difficult work in the slightest; however, none of the discussions piqued my interest despite the other advisors trying to include my input. I exhaled—which felt relieving—as soon as I exited the board room. I didn't have much to do besides monitor the kingdom and sign off on marriage and divorce requests until the evening briefing, so I decided to take a walk through Mirai.

Before I could leave the castle, Leo pulled on my hair and stole my beret to get a reaction out of me.

"Hey, give that back!" I swatted my hands at him.

He avoided me—using those damn wings to his advantage—and stuck his tongue out. "Read your letter from the Sun Princess! I wanna know what she said!"

Leo flew just above my grasp once more.

Not this again today!

"It's none of your business!"

"But you want to read it, right?"

"Yeah! So?" I pulled out the envelope, which became slightly crinkled. I doubted he'd let me leave if I didn't check it out, so I surrendered to not lose any valuable time. "Fine, I'll take a look."

Leo smirked at me, and I pressed my lips into a flat line as he dropped the hat back into place. Gently, I peeled the flap off, careful with the adhesive so that I wouldn't leave an ugly tear across the paper. Inside was a tan piece of parchment. I slipped it out, unfolding it. I squinted. In scribbled writing, it read:

"Dear Advisor Ophelia,

I assume you remember our conversation from the previous night regarding the kingdom and my father. You may not assume the same is true for me; that is adequate. I was so drunk that I had a nasty hangover today, so I got scolded. Nonetheless, the time has come for my father to request your presence as I predicted in our discussion. He would like to see you when you visit the kingdom tonight as a means of establishing friendly relations. I believe he will also have you meet Zhi. I mentioned him to you before.

I think it would be beneficial if we remained on pleasant terms with each other, too. If I do not see you while you are conversing with the other officials, kindly meet me inside the castle's kitchen at 12:30 PM for a quick lunch if you would like. You can ask anyone you see for directions. I am unsure of when you go to sleep, but our times are offset by twelve hours. Please plan accordingly if you intend to come.

Sincerely,

Matsuo Koharu"

I placed one finger over Leo's lip as he stared over me like a hawk.

"Don't. Say. Anything," I threatened as he held back a cackle. "You got your answer."

"Fine!" He started tracing a message in the air, purple letters suddenly appearing.

"HEHEHEHEHE" was written in front of me.

"Leo!" I yelled, watching a maid judge me from afar.

"I didn't say anything, though!"

***

After hearing enough snickers from Leo as my background narration, I managed to shake him off near the offices. Most of them were empty, but a few showed signs of life with shadowed lights and scruffy noises against tables. They were several floors above the lobby, so I took a few minutes to take a detour through them.

When I walked beside one of the lit cubicles, I peeked inside it, hoping to not disturb the bureaucratic functions taking place within. Shelves lined the wall, seeming more frequented than most things lying around. Some chairs for visitors sat in a sad row beside a bright green plant, and I couldn't discern if it was fake or real. I dragged my gaze over to a desk in the center, seeing two boots crossed under it.

"Do you need something?" the person sitting at it asked.

"Ah, hello, General Jisoo." Swallowing nervously, I bowed my head. "I was just strolling around here. I guess it's nice I ran into you…? We haven't really been introduced to each other, but with all the commotion, somebody probably told you who I am."

They paused, reading over a stack of papers in their hand. "You don't need to suck up to everyone here. I piss people off all the time. Anyway,"—they slid their work down to glance above it—"it sounds like you already know my name. I'll still tell you it: I'm Jisoo Chakrabarti. Unusual name to you, probably. My parents are from two different parts of the kingdom, so that's why."

"So are mine. We have that in common."

Setting the sheets down, they said, "I don't doubt you. You look it."

"Sometimes people say that."

"I don't doubt that either." Grabbing a folder, they frowned when they saw it was empty. "Got anything you want to ask?" They interlaced their fingers and placed their arms on the desk. "King Inei gave me the wrong file."

A familiar reflection reminded me of a question I had earlier as I leaned on the inner wall.

"Yeah. Why's your uniform silver when everyone else has gold lace? Is it because you're a general instead of strictly an advisor?"

As they reached for more work to complete, they stopped their hand, peering back up at me. "You want the honest answer?"

"If it's nothing intrusive."

They studied me suspiciously—which seemed to be their normal appearance. "Someone will tell you eventually. I might as well since you don't seem like you'd have a fit over it."

Why would I have a fit over a piece of metal?

"It's a code so that my soldiers don't bother me."

"Huh?"

"The military mostly has men in it, but I'm not always one. Sometimes, I am, but sometimes, I'm a girl." They resumed their work. "Sometimes, I say, 'fuck gender' for a bit. Someone ought to make a simpler term for it. 'Genderfluid' or something."

"Makes sense. There are a lot of things that need words and don't have them."

"Mhm."

"So…" I droned on, somewhat confused. "What does this have to do with metals?"

"Right." They dragged a quill over a document, dripping some ink onto the table. They frowned at the spot as they grabbed a towel from the drawer to clean it. "The gold's when I'm male, the bronze's when I'm female, and the silver's when I'm neither. 'He', 'she', or 'they'."

"Gotcha." The concept wasn't hard to grasp (it made perfect sense), but I really needed a pneumonic to remember what each metal meant as none of them correlated with their assigned pronoun. Then again, that was why it was a code and not a billboard.

"Anything else?"

I thought for a moment, figuring I needed to make conversation if I wanted to stay. "What do you like to do?"

"Negating things works equally well for that." They backed their chair up, displaying their work as they pointed at it. Their arms presented the papers like they were diamonds in a pawn shop. "Here's one thing I don't like. For things I actually like, blacksmith shops are nice. My girlfriend's trying to teach me how to cook better. Some people say I like to pick fights, too. I think they're wrong. I just don't tolerate a lot of shit."

Isn't that the same thing…?

"We might butt heads." I laughed. "Sarcasm and a bad temper don't mix well."

"Maybe." Their responses were dry in tone and rich in meaning—for the most part.

"What stuff do you two make?"

"She makes all kinds of dishes. Sometimes, I think she copied an entire cookbook into her brain." For the first time, Jisoo smiled as they recalled kitchen marvels. "The only thing I've been able to figure out is how to make from her peppersoup. It's pretty spicy, though. That's probably my fault. I always end up dumping too many chilis in it. I can make a decent sandwich—provided I don't toast it."

Chuckling, I replied, "There's a first for everything. One day you'll make that crispy sandwich."

Jisoo snorted. "That or Sera will kill me. Whichever first."

As they stacked the last of their papers and shoved them harshly into the drawer, I said, "I think you'll end up being fine. I once mixed up dry mashed potatoes and rice. You sound like you know what you're working with, at least."

"Compared to that, yeah. Yeah, I do." Standing up, they continued, "Got that shit done. I need to get home." They pushed in their chair, dragging military boots over the carpeted floor.

"See you tomorrow," I said to them.

"Sure."

Is this what you call making a friend here?

***

Realizing I had nothing left to do after all the office lights turned off, I returned to my house for the night. Like any ecstatic parents, my father and mother questioned me about my day, the new job, how I liked the king, and the other advisors—questions to which I responded eagerly enough to placate them.

I stumbled into my room, more tired than I thought. The lack of stimulation in the meetings drained me, I supposed, what with the discussion of trivial matters. (I did not care about some random noises from an abandoned house, even if that sounded like a cool horror story.) I felt sorry for the king; he mustn't have enjoyed such conversations daily. Or perhaps he did. He seemed eclectic enough.

Within a few minutes, I stripped my clothing gently, for I was unused to changing out of such exquisite fabrics. Trying to sleep in itchy collars and scratchy cuffs wasn't ideal. I put on a familiar set of cotton pajamas, my body practically collapsing under me as I slid under the sheath of a wool blanket and thin sheets.

Most people couldn't sleep when excited, but the opposite was true for me that night; as swiftly as I closed my eyes, I fell under the trance of nighttime.

Sunny dreams were imminent as I recalled a bright, drunken smile.