The President of the Philippines requested a meeting.
Not a summons—a request. Carefully worded, respectfully delivered.
"President Marcos wants to see you," Kim announced. "Officially. At Malacañang."
Glad blinked. "The President?"
"The President. Apparently, your movement has gotten too big to ignore."
"He wants to shut us down?"
"Actually—" Kim paused. "He wants to consult. His advisors have been watching your community. They think your model could help with other minority groups. Human ones."
Glad sat down heavily. "I'm advising the President on minority relations?"
"You're a symbol, Glad. Like it or not."
She didn't like it. But she went.
Malacañang Palace was overwhelming—centuries of history, power, politics. Glad walked its halls in a formal gown (wing slits expertly hidden), trying not to gawk.
President Marcos greeted her warmly. "Ms. Samotiloy. Thank you for coming."
"Thank you for inviting me, Mr. President."
They talked for two hours—about the creature community, about human-minority relations, about the challenges of building trust across difference.
"Your approach," the President said, "emphasizes listening over lecturing. Partnership over patronage. That's rare."
"We learned from our mistakes. Lots of mistakes."
"Willingness to learn is the rarest quality of all."
By the end, they'd agreed to establish a formal advisory role—creature representatives consulting on policies affecting all minorities.
"This could change everything," Kim said afterward.
"Or nothing. But we have to try."