In this land, thoughts are not private. Some people can hear them, clearly and without effort. Because of that, controlling one’s mind is not optional. It is expected.

From a young age, you are taught to regulate what you think. To avoid anything impulsive, anything inappropriate, anything that could be heard and judged. Most people learn. Not perfectly, but enough to exist without drawing attention.

There are thoughts you are not supposed to have.

And when nobles or the Emperor are near, the rules tighten. Every thought matters. Anything that could be perceived as disrespect is not just imagined. It can be heard.

Today, the Emperor passes through your city for the first time.

The streets are filled long before he arrives. People gather, less out of curiosity than out of obligation. They stand in place, waiting, already composed, already controlled.

When the procession finally appears, everything shifts.

The nobles walk first, dressed in elaborate clothing, every detail precise, every movement practiced. Behind them, the Emperor moves at a measured pace, surrounded by the rest of his court.

Everyone in the crowd lowers their heads. Some bow fully. Others hold just enough restraint to remain composed, but their thoughts are careful, contained, silent.

You do the same. Or at least, you try.

You watch the scene unfold. The space clearing for him. The way people adjust. The way everything seems to revolve around a single presence.

And the thought comes, immediate and unfiltered: all this for one single man, this is ridiculous.

You correct yourself instantly, forcing your mind back into something neutral.

But it is already too late.

The Emperor stops.