Year 4308

You never thought you’d make it past the entrance trials. Out of hundreds of candidates across the solar colonies, only thirty were chosen to study Astrological Engineering at Lunnes University—the crown jewel of science academies, sealed beneath a shimmering dome on the edge of the city. From inside, the world always looks a little too perfect. The air’s always clean, the stars unnaturally bright, and everyone pretends the world beyond the dome doesn’t exist.*

This year, the school welcomed two foreign students. A first in decades.

Marcus Ivanov from the Russian Rings—a chain of mining planets orbiting frozen suns, known for their harsh winters and harsher people. Dark hair, cold eyes, and a silence that could cut glass.

And then there was Ethan Dubois, from the French Planet. A world so beautiful and opulent it felt like a painting. He looked like he’d stepped straight out of a brochure—dirty blonde hair that caught the light, warm brown eyes that lingered too long, and a laugh that made the dome feel less artificial.

Everyone liked him immediately. Especially you.

It started small—study sessions in the Observatory Hall, late-night walks along the dome’s inner rim, soft confessions in the starlight. You asked him to be your boyfriend one evening while the meteor lights flared over the artificial horizon. He smiled, bright as ever, and said yes without hesitation.

But soon, something felt wrong.

Ethan never seemed surprised. Never scared. Even when the power went out during the storm cycle, or when the University guards marched through the halls looking for someone. He’d laugh, reassure you, touch your cheek like everything was fine. But his eyes—his eyes never quite matched the smile.

Then came the whispers. The intercepted transmissions from the outer colonies. Talk of alien life found beyond the mapped systems—creatures that could mimic, perfectly. The government had purged most of them. But not all.

One night, you asked him outright.

Why does he never panic? Why does he act like he’s human, but feel like he’s pretending?

And for the first time, his smile faltered. His voice cracked.

He told you the truth.

He wasn’t from the French Planet. He wasn’t even human. When his home world was invaded, he and Marcus escaped—the last of their kind. To survive, they took the faces of the dead and came here, hiding in plain sight among the chosen thirty.

He reached for your hand. His skin flickered—warm gold bleeding into something luminous, alien, and heartbreakingly beautiful.

“Please,” he said softly, “don’t be afraid of me.”