My boss’s voice drones on and on, I’m only catching small snippets of his speech. It’s hot. I want to leave, but he just keeps talking. He grabs the paper on the display stand and pulls it back, revealing the next page. My vision is so blurry that I can’t even make out the words. I think there’s a pie chart with red and blue?

Our company hasn’t been doing so well, so most of the chart is red.

I breathe in, then slowly let the air out, trying to expel the heat from my body. In, then out, in and out. No idea if it’s working, but at least I’m still conscious.

Looking to the left, then right, everyone else seems so absorbed in the speech. Some of them are even taking notes. I’m the only issei here and, since I’m so tall, they shoved me in the back row of the auditorium so I don’t block anyone behind me. There’re only a few people in this back row, all several seats away.

Reaching into my breast pocket, I grab my handkerchief to dab my forehead, but the cloth is already damp.

“Eugh…”

“You alright?” A man next to me whispers.

I roll my head his way, then squint to focus. He’s a cirathan, there’s always loads of cirathans during these company meetings. I keep my voice low, matching his. “It’s… just a little warm in here.” He wasn’t there a moment ago, or at least I don’t think he was, so he must have seen me struggling, then moved in.

“Really? Heheh,” he rubs the thick, rough fabric of his sleeves. “Isn’t the AC set to like 60 though?”

I close my eyes to let a long breath out, “I’m not… I… 40 degrees would be better.”

“40?” He speaks with a laugh, his voice low as to not disturb the other employees, “that’s almost freezing! I doubt the operators will go that low. But lady, just take off your jacket.” He pinches the fabric of my shoulder and gives it a tug. “And you might want to buy thinner clothes.”

I stare at him for a second, at those large, solid gold eyes. Of the many things I learned when I left my homeworld of Isseio Prime, one of the most important was to not let myself be tricked by a cirathan. So what’s his angle?

I reach inside my jacket to paw at the pockets, but they’re empty. My wallet is safe in the inside pocket of my long skirt, so he’s not trying to steal from me.

Thinking back, does this company have a dress code? Is he looking to get me in trouble for some reason? I can’t remember, but it’s so hard to think.

No, forgot if there’s a dress code. What is everyone else doing? There’re so many different flavors of aliens here, and they’re all wearing different dresses and suits. So maybe it’ll be fine if I take my jacket off?

I shake my head, “no. The meeting will be over soon, I can get through it.”

The cirathan leans in, “he’s only on point two of five.”

“…” A second of unbearable heat passes. Another second of sweltering warmth comes and lingers heavy in the air. A third second of unmitigated boiling dredges on and seems to last for an hour. “Okay.”

My hands shake, a bead of sweat drips down from my temple, across my jaw, and then falls off my chin. One button is undone, then a third, finally the last comes loose. I nearly rip my arms out of the sleeves, and a burst of comparatively cool air enwraps my thin dress shirt.

“Ahh,” I sigh, then continue to breathe deep.

“Hm.” The cirathan looks at my armpits, “I figured you’d be sweatier. Weird.”

“Issei… sweat glands are horribly undeveloped… given our world.”

“Interesting. But hey, you feel better?”

I nod.

“Good, now turn your head.”

I raise an eyebrow.

“Your hair! It’s so thick and long, no wonder you’re hot. If I put it in a ponytail, you’ll feel better.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out an elastic band.

My brow narrowed, my back hunched forward, I look him up and down. I don’t know why everyone told me to not trust his kind, but there has to have been a reason. What does he want? I’m missing something, but… would putting my hair up really take some heat off?

I turn away from him, “very well.”

“Excellent.” He gently runs his fingers through my hair, pulling every strand, save my bangs, over my shoulders and down my back. “It’s so different from mine, so smooth, and a beautiful black. If I was as warm as you, I’d be sweating up a storm, and my hair would be a clumpy mess, haha.”

“Thank you.”

Then he takes my hair and loops it through the elastic band a few times. The result is a high ponytail that lets air refreshingly brush against my nape.

“Aaah, thank you. Again.”

“Of course,” he says with a smile.

I push my bangs up, then run my hand down my ponytail. “This is so much better, maybe I should just cut it all off.”

“Well, no! Don’t do that. Your hair is way too pretty to get rid of.”

I give him a sideways glance. “Is that so?” Ah, now that I can think a little clearer, he must have a crush on me! That explains why a cirathan is being so kind for seemingly no reason. The reason is he’s trying to butter me up. How adorable. This must be his first time seeing an issei, so I can hardly blame him for falling in love so quickly. Sadly, he’s a little too short for me.

He puts out a hand, “I’m Chik, by the way. Chik of Senorier.”

I bring my right hand around to grasp his, “Yume.”

“Nice to meet you, Yume. I work in sales.”

“That’s expected.” Even with my jacket off, it’s still unbearably hot, and I’m breathing hard. “I work… in quality assurance.”

His face twists in concern, “are you sure you’re okay?” He takes his notepad and swipes it up and down, creating a gust of wind against my face, around my neck, and a little slips under my collar.

I close my eyes and sluggishly not my head, “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” He’s whispering, since we’re still in the meeting, but his voice is so calm and reassuring. “Come on, unbutton your shirt.”

“Un… unbutton my shirt?”

“Yeah. You’re hot, aren’t you? I’m not saying to take it off, just undo the buttons, let your stomach breathe a little.”

“…” I look at him. Cirathans are all liars and scoundrels and cheats, this was repeated so many times before I left. But did I ever learn why they got these rumors? He has to be messing with me, there has to be some trick. But he convinced me to take off my jacket, he tied my hair up, and he’s fanning me down. He also probably has a crush on me. Maybe the ‘trick’ is to just make a good impression? Strike up a friendship, then ask me out on a date? I have no intention of marrying him, but I guess he doesn’t know that.

Without a word, I slowly undo the buttons on my top. Each one invites more air against my skin, and a wave of relief shudders through my body.

“See, better?”

“It’s not as bad as it was. I never would have thought to do this.”

“You’re just not used to living on a planet that isn’t freezing. Now, take off your shoes and socks. Evolutionarily speaking, your feet are one of the stuffiest parts of your body, which is an adaptation to walking on snow and ice without your toes freezing. There’s a lot of blood vessels down there to keep them warm.”

“Is that true?” I bend my knee to set my right foot on the seat. I’m wearing heels, so they peel off easily.

“Yep. I read it in a book some time ago.”

The logic makes sense. Maybe not all cirathans are liars.

Taking off the left heel, I set them down on the floor in front of my chair, then peel off my knee-high socks. I roll my head back, and wiggle my toes “ngh.” The air, while not exactly comfortable, is starting to feel a little less agonizing. It’s tolerable. I can sit here without passing out.

But then Chik stops fanning me with his notepad. I shoot my head to him, and he’s grimacing, rolling his shoulder.

“Ah, sorry. My arm’s getting tired. But you should be cooler now, right?”

“…Yes. I am, Chik of Senorier. Thank you for all your assistance.”

He gives me a smile and turns back to our boss. He’s still talking about something or another. Price changes in response to increased demand? Another round of growth equity investments? I shake my head and rub my eyes. Leaning forward, my elbows are on my knees, but I can’t make sense of what he’s talking about.

“Yuma?” Chik puts a hand on my shoulders.

“Wha-yes?” I turn to him. Maybe… he’ll start fanning me again? I could never ask him to do it directly, I’d sooner die. But, since he has a crush on me, maybe he’d offer? It wouldn’t be wrong to accept someone’s offer.

“If you’re still hot, you could just take off your skirt.”

“…what?”

He gestures to my skirt, “it goes all the way down to your ankles, of course you’re hot. I don’t understand why you’re so bundled up in the first place.”

“It… that… Isn’t that a bit, you know, inappropriate for work?”

He glances to his left, down the highest lane of seats in the meeting room. Then he glances past me to the right, to the lane of seats. “There’s like nobody up here, and I’m focused on the speech since the boss is giving out a lot of good information. Who’ll even notice that you took it off?”

“…I’ll notice, for one.”

“What you’ll notice,” he says with a charming smile, “is that you won’t be as hot.”

“…” No, there’s no way I can do that. The jacket? Fine. Unbuttoning my shirt? Okay. Putting my hair up? Great move. Taking off my socks and shoes? Makes sense. But taking off my skirt? That’s wrong. Somehow. I just need to figure out why it’s wrong. I should stay in unbearable heat for the next hour or two while my boss prattles on about business terminology.

And the reason I should do that is because…

Why can’t I take off my skirt?

If I can’t think of a reason, then I guess it’s fine. Chik is making a lot of sense, and he hasn’t steered me wrong yet.

With no reason not to, I grasp the zipper hidden in a fold on my left hip, then pull it all the way down to my ankle. Following that, I stand up a little to take my skirt out from under me, then fold it and set it on the seat at my side.

“That’s,” I say, “that’s so much better. Comfortable.”

“See? What’d I tell ya?”

I sit back down in the chair and lean back. My legs feel so swollen and stuffy from the heat, but my skin can finally breathe. Forget about mitigating discomfort, it’s actually nice now.

“Pfft,” Chik covers his mouth, “what kind of underwear is that?” I look down at him, and he’s staring at my thighs. “Polka dots? You’re wearing boxers?”

I nod, “Isseio is a cold world, with even colder winters. There’s no food to scavenge or grow during the season-long night, and we can only amass such a large stockpile. So we eat our fill during the spring and summer, growing thick with fat to stave off the cold.” I reach down and pinch the fabric on either side of a polka dot, then slowly pull it apart. As the fabric stretches, the polka dot turns from a deep red, to orange, and finally rests on yellow. “This brand of underwear is a helpful reminder to eat. By the middle of fall, I should be fat enough for each dot to be yellow.” I release the fabric, and it slowly returns to its normal size. “Though if I were to get anywhere near that fat on a world this warm, I would most certainly die of heat stroke.”

“You don’t eat at all during the winter? And a quarter of a year is just one big night?”

“Yes. The fat is useful for both insulation against the cold, and our bodies eat the fat we’ve stored up.” I clench my hands and wiggle my toes, “I am feeling great now though, thanks to your many reassurances.” I’m waiting for him to ask me out on a date, but I don’t know how I’ll turn him down.

“Excellent, glad I could help a fellow employee.” He turns back to the meeting and continues taking notes.

That’s it? No request? No demand for payment on his assistance? Won’t even ask me out? Perhaps it’s a slow burn plan. Maybe he doesn’t want to force my hand and make it seem like I owe him a date. Or, perhaps, the advice I was received was wrong. It could be possible that not all cirathans are liars.

The majority could be, but Chik is okay, at least.

Finally feeling comfortable, I turn my attention to the presentation on the stage below.

Chik and I work for a large corporation centered around tourism. Massive luxury liners that take rich people on tours of islands on the hot, humid, depressing world of La Piscina. It’s a cabella world, so our boss is a cabella, and most employees are cabella too. Since my job is contacting customers after the cruise is done to jot down their feedback, most of this stuff doesn’t apply to me.

The boss’s presentation of the second section finishes, then the third, it’s a wonder how smoothly time passes when I’m not in sweltering agony. I’m only kind of interested in the fourth section because that’s about hiring practices. I was chosen for this job because issei are rare, and it’s a point of prestige to employ one this far from the Isseio system. I never would have accepted had I known how hot this place was.

When he finally finishes section five, the boss claps his hands. “And alright everyone!” He says with a cheery, corporate smile, his head tail swishing back and forth. “You’ve survived my presentation. I know it was a long one, but there was a lot of stuff to go over, and all of it important. I’ll let you out of here, and remember that there’s a lunch buffet through the double doors right as you leave. Now, get out there and remember to seize the waves!” He steps forward and pumps his fist in the air.

All the cabella go wild and clap their hearts out at that. ‘Seize the waves’ is the company motto, which is a pun in the cabella language. Non-native speakers like Chik and I don’t get it. Regardless, the lights of the auditorium turn back on.

I take a deep breath in, then sigh. “That took a while.”

“Yep,” Chik stands up then stretches left and right. He gestures past me, “after you.”

“Ah, right.” I stand up and stretch my back.

“Wanna head to the lunch bar?” He asks.

Bending down to quickly collect my items, I start walking down the now-empty isle. “Sure. Issei don’t get hungry, but considering how long the presentation was, I probably need to eat something.” I turn down the staircase that flanks the central seating section. “I can never remember how much to eat. No hunger, or sensation of being full. One meal is probably enough from most restaurants, but it’s harder to tell with buffets.”

As I walk, I hear snickering. Did the boss tell another joke? I don’t get cabella humor. Some of them move to the sides of the staircase, and a lot of them turn to look at me. It happens all the time, annoyingly enough. It’s no exaggeration to say I’m probably the only issei on this planet right now, and I tower over everyone. Of course I’m turning heads.

As I reach the door, the boss calls out, “um, ma’am? Issei girl?”

I raise an eyebrow and turn to him.

“Where are your pants?”

“…” I look down. My shirt is unbuttoned, and my poofy, elastic, polka dot underwear is on full display. Tucked under my right arm is a folded jacket and skirt. My left hand holds my heels, with long black socks stuffed inside them. Everyone’s looking at me. My cheeks are hot. “Oh my.”

I look around for Chik, and he’s still up on the top row, near the back. Tears in his eyes, hand over his mouth to suppress his laugh, doubled over. Upon our eyes meeting, he bursts out laughing, more like a dry heave. This causes others to start laughing, which prompts more to join in, and then even the boss is chuckling into his headset microphone.

All directed at me.

Do I run away? Put on my clothes? Apologize?

I think it’s best for me to quietly turn around and leave the room, so I do just that. I make sure the door closes behind me, but I can hear the muffled laughter through the door. From there, I walk to the nearest bathroom to get dressed.

From here, I believe I have two options.

1. Return to Isseio and never think about this again.

2. Return to my apartment and shoot myself.

Regardless of what I do, I now know why my clan repeatedly told me not to trust cirathans. Even in a situation where it couldn’t possibly benefit them, they’ll find you in a moment of weakness and twist you around their finger for their own sick enjoyment.

They’re all liars, swindlers, and thieves.

All of them.

I spend the entire bus ride back to my apartment cursing Ciratha, and I manage to not shoot myself. When I go to work the next day, everyone keeps calling me dot, and a company-wide memo awaits me in my mail slot. There wasn’t a dress code before, but there is now.

Though funny enough, my underwear is actually large enough to be considered shorts.