I look upon you, my little puppet. Your green hair held from your face by those glorious strings around your head.

The thing that makes me your master. The thing that makes you just a puppet. The thing that makes you mine.

I love hypno-crowns almost as much as I love the puppets they make.

You are by far the best. Not some criminal given to me for a suicide mission or some idiot soldier being punished for transgression, no. You're powerful.

And yet you've never held free will for almost a decade.

Nine years you've been under my spell. Nine years honing your powers. Nine years in which you became the most beautiful puppet of all.

Nothing but a toy for me.

And for me alone now. You only do what I tell you to do. Only obey what I tell you to obey.

My little half-esper. My green haired goddess puppet.

If you could think what would you feel about this? Would you object to being mine? Object to the way every aspect of you is in my control and for me to do as I wish?

I think you would. If we had left you alone without perfecting the crown you would have become wilful. Independent. Dangerous.

We may have raised Celes Chere along those lines but we cannot control her. Not like you.

And so I think for you, my puppet. I pull your strings to make you dance. I think your thoughts, move your moves, speak your words. I breathe for you. I make you alive.

And what makes it all so wonderful is you're still expendable, little puppet.

Terra Branford, for all her power and all the fun she represents, is nothing. Nothing without me, and if I so choose, nothing at all.

So, little puppet, I will remember that for you. Remember for you that I am all you are, and I am all you can ever be.

Just my toy. And I may grow bored of you yet, as fun a toy as you are...