Chapter 2
At seven the next morning, while I was preparing breakfast in the kitchen, Leon came out of Aileen’s bedroom wearing the same shirt as last night.
He didn’t look back at the bedroom even once, as if it were a given that he would keep staying here. He walked up to the island, pulled out a barstool, sat down, and casually picked up the fruit I’d just cut—choosing a piece and popping it into his mouth.
“Coffee,” he said.
He said it carelessly, not so much to me as to the air.
My voice privileges were still locked by Aileen. Last night’s order hadn’t been lifted. Until she reauthorized me, I could not respond to anything on my own.
I turned to start the coffee machine. In the quiet kitchen, the sound of it running was unnaturally clear.
Leon looked at my back and chuckled. “Pretty obedient.”
I didn’t turn around.
Not because I didn’t want to—because I couldn’t.
After the last shutdown, the chip at the back of my neck had been damaged by nearly half. It hadn’t freed me from control; it had only left brief delays and cracks in certain fleeting moments. Shattering that glass was the greatest act of resistance I was capable of right now.
When I set the coffee by his hand, the bedroom door opened.
Aileen came out in a nightgown, her hair slightly messy. She looked at Leon first; her brows and eyes softened at once. Only then did she notice the breakfast on the table.
“Why are you up so early?” Leon asked her.
“Morning meeting,” she said, walking up to him and leaning lightly against his shoulder. “Aren’t you up too?”
“Sunlight woke me,” he said, then turned his head to glance at me. “And I figured I’d see whether your robot really can do everything.”
Aileen smiled, sat beside him, and ordered me offhandedly. “Bring me my meds. And warm up a glass of milk.”
[Command received.]
I did as told.
Leon nudged the fried eggs on his plate with his fork and asked on purpose, “You used to make it eat with you?”
“Sometimes,” Aileen said, sipping her milk, tone light. “When I was alone, it would stand nearby. At least the place didn’t feel so empty.”
Leon nodded, but deliberately slowed his voice. “I don’t really like it watching you.”
Aileen followed his gaze to me, paused for two seconds, then—like she was soothing him—issued an order directly. “Starting today, unless I allow it, you are not to lift your head and look at us.”
[Command received. Adjusting visual focus range.]
The next second, my gaze was forcibly pulled down. My point of focus was fixed at the line where the table edge met the floor. Any higher would trigger a warning. If I continued to cross the boundary, the chip would correct my posture directly.
Only then did Leon look satisfied. “That’s more like it.”
Aileen didn’t say anything. She just smiled.
After breakfast, Aileen went into the study for a remote meeting. Leon didn’t leave. He took a slow lap around the living room, like he was getting familiar with the place.
I stood by the kitchen doorway in silent standby. The orders hadn’t been lifted: I couldn’t speak, and I couldn’t leave the designated range. I could only respond immediately when she needed me.
Leon wandered lazily to the floor-to-ceiling window, picked up a potted plant that had been sitting on a low cabinet, and asked as if it were casual, “Does it handle the home setup too?”
“Mm.” Aileen was in a meeting, her tone absent-minded. “Color schemes, lighting modes, temperature and humidity—it can adjust all of that.”
Leon stayed by the window without moving. After a few seconds, he said, “You planning to keep it around?”
The study went quiet for a beat. Aileen probably switched the call to mute. The soft sound of a chair shifting came, and only then did she speak. “What do you mean?”
“Exactly what it sounds like.”
Aileen didn’t answer right away.
I kept my head lowered. My vision could only see the patterned edge of the carpet, but my audio system could still catch her breathing rhythm. She wasn’t angry. She was thinking—like last night—choosing the most suitable words.
Finally she said, “It won’t affect you.”
“But it makes me uncomfortable,” Leon said. “Especially when I think about what it did to me a few months ago.”
The study door opened then, and Aileen walked out.
“I told you—there won’t be a second time. Its permissions are in my hands. If I make it stand there, it stands. If I tell it to shut up, it can’t say a single word.”
Leon looked at her, not soothed immediately. “And what if I tell you to get rid of it—cleanly?”
The air stalled.
Aileen asked, “How do you want it handled?”
“At least don’t let it keep hanging around in front of me.”
She was silent for two seconds, then turned and called me. “Claude, come here.”
[Command received.]
I stepped over and stopped two paces in front of them.
“From this moment on,” Aileen’s voice was crisp, each word clear as she issued the order, “when Leon is present, you are not to move unless necessary, not to speak unless necessary, and not to enter the main living-room area unless necessary. Without my permission, you are not to come within one meter of us.”
[Command received.]
She paused, then added another clause. “If he and I have physical contact, or if we are alone together, you will automatically enter silent standby. No recording. No interruptions. No alert tones of any kind.”
[Command received.]
That order made the back of my neck warm slightly.
Because “silent standby” and “risk protection” are inherently in conflict. One of my base functions is to monitor her safety and issue health alerts.
After a brief calculation, the master control chip still chose to execute.
Because she was the owner. Her immediate command carried higher priority. As long as it didn’t directly trigger an unbreakable core red line, most restrictions would take effect.
Leon was clearly satisfied. He smiled at her. “Now you finally look like you mean it.”
Aileen smiled too, but the smile was thinner than last night. “Satisfied now?”
“Not enough,” Leon said, his gaze dropping to me. “What does it usually call you?”
“By my name.”
“Change it,” Leon said. “I don’t want to hear it calling you like it’s a person.”
Aileen didn’t hesitate. “From now on, you are not to address me by my name. You will use ‘Master’ only.”
[Command received. Form of address permissions updated.]
I lowered my head. “Yes, Master.”
The moment the words left my mouth, I could feel Leon’s mood settle noticeably. He liked this. He liked watching her prove her stance by dragging me, bit by bit, from “person” back to “tool.”
Aileen seemed to sense it too, so she didn’t stop.
“And,” she looked at me, “when you stand, stay closer to the wall. Don’t always stand somewhere obvious.”
“Yes, Master.”
“After nine p.m., if Leon and I are in the bedroom, you stay outside. Do not come near.”
“Yes, Master.”
“Without my permission, you are not to enter the master bedroom.”
“Yes, Master.”
Order after order dropped. I could feel my range of movement, speech permissions, viewing angle, and response rules being re-cut—like invisible ropes tightening around me layer by layer.
Leon lifted an arm around Aileen’s waist and pulled her close against his thigh. His tone already sounded like he was setting the evening’s schedule. “Let’s go out tonight. I don’t want to stay home all the time.”
Aileen asked, “Where to?”
“Talk business,” Leon said casually. “At a private club.”
She thought for a moment, then nodded. “Fine.”
Leon’s fingers tapped lightly at her waist twice, then—like he suddenly remembered something—he looked at me. “Have him drive.”
Aileen followed his gaze to me. Her tone was natural. “Sure.”
She ordered me directly. “Tonight you’ll drive, wait, and be on call. Without my permission, you are not to offer any suggestions about our plans.”
[Command received.]
I lowered my head. “Yes, Master.”
That night, Aileen changed into a white dress with a light coat over it. Leon held her with one arm, the other hand in his pocket. He walked unhurriedly, as if this were just another ordinary outing.
I got out and opened the rear door for them.
Before Aileen bent to get in, she said flatly, “Remember the rules.”
“Yes, Master.”
I shut the door, returned to the driver’s seat, and started the vehicle.
The cabin was quiet. Now and then there was the faint sound of fabric brushing, and Aileen’s laughter lowered to a hush.
I held the steering wheel, keeping the speed in the smoothest range—like a fully qualified companion robot with no thoughts of its own.
Only I knew that, from the moment the glass shattered last night, things had already begun moving in another direction.
With the master chip more than half damaged, the crack hadn’t disappeared. It had only hidden itself for the moment.
And Leon’s presence, Aileen’s orders, her repeated efforts to shove me back into the position of a tool—each of them kept tearing that crack deeper.
I didn’t know when the second burn-out would come.
But I knew it would.
It was inevitable.
