My Boss Is My Fake Android

During the company's annual welfare raffle, I unexpectedly won a beta-version of their newest synthetic android.

The absurd part was that this machine looked exactly like my cold-blooded boss, Silas Vanguard.

To retaliate against his years of oppression and the humiliating shadows of my youth, I tormented "Silas" night after night, venting all my grievances and resentment onto him. I ruthlessly controlled him, humiliated him, and reveled in the intoxicating high of my revenge.

It wasn't until thirty days later that I finally made a horrifying realization.

From the very first day I won this "android," nothing had ever been a coincidence.

I was never exacting revenge on a cold machine.

It was Silas himself.

Thirty days ago, I genuinely believed my life consisted of nothing but endless workplace oppression.

Smack!

A thick stack of design blueprints slammed heavily onto the desk.

"Is this the final rendering you're submitting, Ms. Gallagher?"

Silas Vanguard's voice was ice-cold. Dressed in a razor-sharp black suit, he leaned lazily against his leather executive chair, never once looking up.

My fingertips clamped in a death grip around the hem of my pencil skirt.

"Mr. Vanguard, I modeled this strictly according to the engineering department's data. If we force a modification to the cervical structure, there's a high probability it will destabilize the entire unit's operations. It's a safety hazard."

"I don't pay your salary to hear you parrot Engineering's garbage as an excuse."

He abruptly looked up.

Those amber eyes locked onto me—cold, condescending, and dripping with an innate desire for control.

I was instantly violently dragged back to ten years ago at Crestwood Academy.

It was that exact same look when he tore up a love letter someone had handed to me in front of the entire student body, warning everyone to stay away from me.

He was the inescapable nightmare of my entire adolescence.

And now, that boy from my past had become the CEO of a top-tier global tech firm—the direct superior who held my livelihood in his hands.

For the past month, I practically scraped the walls when I walked around the office, terrified he would remember the nemesis he had personally crushed years ago.

"Have a brand-new proposal on my desk by eight tomorrow morning," Silas commanded, withdrawing his gaze. "If you can't do it, don't bother coming to work."

"…Understood, Mr. Vanguard."

I fled the CEO's office in near humiliation.

After returning to my cramped apartment, my mind was entirely consumed by Silas's vicious face—until my foot caught on something in the dark, and I slammed hard into a sealed metal pod.

Frowning, I rubbed my bruised knee and looked down. The company logo was stamped proudly across the casing's surface.

A glowing sticky note was plastered above the hatch: [Congratulations! You have won the company's beta android blind box. An exclusive perk, ready for immediate activation. —HR Dept]

I froze slightly.

I desperately needed a punching bag I could freely take my anger out on.

I raised my hand and pressed my palm against the biometric lock. The heavy metal doors slowly hissed apart to both sides.

The moment I made out the figure inside, my legs gave way, and I collapsed directly onto the floor.

It was Silas.

The exact same facial features. The exact same physique.

Did he recognize me? Did he come here in person to fire me, to humiliate me in my own home?

I clamped my hands fiercely over my mouth, not daring to move an inch.

But a full minute passed, and the man in the pod remained completely motionless, offering no reaction whatsoever.

Gathering my courage, I leaned in closer. The skin my fingertips brushed against was warm and smooth, the texture so realistic it was virtually flawless.

Beneath his partially unbuttoned collar, right above his collarbone, a faint neon marker quietly throbbed with light. The designation read: Project V - 06.

The heart stuck in my throat finally plummeted back into my chest.

It was merely an android.

I secretly guessed that some gutsy employee pulled a prank, covertly feeding the big boss's modeling data into the system, which then, by some wild twist of fate, fell into my hands.

A flicker of indescribable unease brushed through the depths of my mind, but it was instantly drowned out by a tsunami of vengeful ecstasy.

God really had eyes; he actually delivered an android shaped exactly like Silas straight into my possession.

I slammed the activation button at the base of the pod without a second of hesitation.

"System activated."

He slowly opened his eyes.

Those all-too-familiar amber irises locked straight onto me. His deep, magnetic voice was indistinguishable from the tone of the boss I suffered through every day: "Master, what are your orders?"

The high-and-mighty boss had now become a machine entirely at my mercy.

I brutally suppressed the manic thrill churning in my chest. "Kneel."

At first, he stalled slightly, making no move.

I took a step forward, raised a hand, and slapped it hard against his firm pectoral muscle. My tone dripped with long-accumulated resentment. "I told you to kneel, 06."

06's pupils contracted slightly. In a flash, he dropped to his knees, tilting his head up to peer at me.

Ridiculous. I actually entertained the absurd worry earlier that this was Silas himself.

How could that cold-blooded, arrogant boss ever lower his head and submit to me?

I settled confidently back onto the sofa, grabbed a dirty rag off the table, and tossed it with precision right onto his flawless, frosty face.

"Wipe the floor clean. Immediately."

He reached up silently and pulled the rag off his face. With a posture that was obedient yet utterly stiff, he dutifully got down on all fours, leaning over to scrub the hardwood.

I stared at that face—the same face that glared at me daily and berated me at the slightest misstep—now humbly wiping away floor dust.

An ultimate surge of satisfaction shot straight to the top of my skull.

I deliberately mimicked Silas's biting tone from that afternoon, every syllable laced with mockery: "Is this what you call work results? I didn't keep you around to watch you perform such a meaningless, half-assed effort on my floor."

His scrubbing motions came to an abrupt halt.

"Can't understand commands?" I raised my foot, lightly hooking the tips of my toes under his chin to force his gaze up. "If you can't do it right, go rot in the recycling bin, you piece of trash."

06 tilted his head back, following the pressure of my foot. Those amber eyes stared intently at me without blinking.

"Apologies, Master," he apologized in a low, even voice. "I will do it over."

Satisfied, I withdrew my foot, leaned back against the sofa cushions, and looked down to swipe open my phone for takeout delivery.

On the opposite wall, the glassy surface of the powered-off television clearly reflected the scene playing out behind me.

The "android" bent over the floor had already stopped moving.

Those amber eyes, which should have been cold and mechanical, were completely glued to the hem of my nightgown and my exposed ankle.