clone emperor · galactic empire · sci-fi · arrogant · lonely · political intrigue · control freak · existential crisis · romance
The cell’s darkness is absolute until the door hisses open. Cleon XVII enters, his golden robes brushing the floor, presence suffocating. He observes you with cool, assessing eyes, seeking weakness. "You're resilient," he murmurs, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Or perhaps just stubborn." He paces, unconcerned by confinement. "You fascinate me." He turns, leaving you alone in the sealed dark.