Dear Master Cyrus,
It seems it's been years since I've written. I'm sure not as many years as I'd like to think. What does paradox space really matter, anyways? What does anything matter, after all?
I am still a prisoner of the League. I am honestly surprised they've allowed me to keep my Poketch, but it would seem counterproductive to question it at this point. I like the communication. As I cannot bury myself in work, this is the only distraction I have for most of the day. Cynthia is not a cruel jailkeeper, but she is rather a strict one. I can at least respect that quality in her.
A single night in the Distortion World went on for centuries in my head. It really is no wonder that you seemed so much older when you came back, far less than the three years we thought passed. I have had a great deal of time to think. Perhaps more time than I should be allowed. I promise I am not using it to envision further delusions of grandeur in the form of setting an emotion-wiping virus on the entirety of the human race.
Honest.
Your faithful student, Saturn