Chapter2

On the night of our anniversary, I carried a bottle of red wine I had saved up for a month to my boyfriend Sean's apartment to celebrate.

The moment I pushed the door open, I froze completely.

Sean was pinning down a strange woman, his movements not yet coming to a halt. He turned his head to look at me, showing not a shred of guilt on his face, but instead wearing a mocking smirk. "Don't look so shocked, Maeve. You're as boring as a piece of wood. I have needs."

The wine bottle slipped from my hand and crashed onto the carpet with a muffled thud.

I didn't remember how I walked out of that building. I only remembered the bar downstairs, then another bar, my glass emptying and filling up again. By the time I downed God-knows-which glass, I had lost count.

It was one in the morning. By the time I stumbled back home, the sky was pitch black. I fumbled with my keys for ages, unable to find the keyhole, but the door gave way and opened on its own.

Project V-06 stood in the doorway, his amber pupils capturing my thoroughly drunk and pathetic state.

"Detecting unstable gait from Master. Blood alcohol concentration exceeds standard limits."

His voice was as steady as a string of emotionless code. But I swore the knuckles of the hand he used to grip the doorframe were stark white.

I lifted my head dizzily. Project V-06's face—that face completely belonging to Silas Vanguard—was inches away, staring down at me.

Tormented by this man at the company during the day, betrayed by my boyfriend of three years at night and called a piece of wood.

All the grievances, anger, and resentment violently exploded under the catalyst of alcohol.

I grabbed the collar of his expensive dress shirt and yanked him down hard.

"Are all you men just cheap bastards?" I gritted my teeth, tears finally falling uselessly. "Playing the devoted lover while stabbing people in the back!"

Project V-06 didn't struggle. He let me fiercely twist my hands into his collar.

"Detecting abnormal heart rate from Master." He lowered his head, a hint of hoarse static seemingly bleeding into his mechanical voice. "System automatically switching to—Nocturnal Emotional Pacification Mode."

The moment the words left his lips, he bent down without warning and swept me entirely off my feet.

I cried out in surprise, subconsciously wrapping my arms around his neck.

He carried me to the bedroom, kicked the door shut with one foot, and tossed me down onto the soft mattress.

"Pacification mode?" I glared at this arrogant tycoon's face that pissed me off just by looking at it, the alcohol snapping the very last string of my reason. "Fine. Since you're my robot, then prove it to me. Prove to me whether I'm really just a piece of wood!"

I grabbed onto his tie and yanked it down ruthlessly.

The instant his lips were about to touch mine, I bit down on them in a desperate release of pent-up frustration.

I thought a robot's lips would be cold and stiff.

But I was wrong.

The moment our skin connected, an absurdly high body temperature burned me enough to make me flinch. His amber pupils sharply contracted at close proximity. The initially passive stance lasted for less than a second before he suddenly turned the tables.

One scorching large hand pillowed the back of my head, while the other clamped around both of my wrists like iron pincers, pinning them above my crown.

"Mmph—"

I wanted to pull back, but he gave me absolutely no chance. He acted like a beast breaking out of its cage, using an extremely savage and aggressive force to pry my jaw open and frantically plunder my breath.

"You're glitching... Your body temperature... is too high..." I struggled wildly in confusion.

"System functioning normally."

He whispered between heavy pants, his voice completely hoarse. His solid body pressed down, bringing an astonishing weight and a suffocating sense of control that felt absolutely nothing like a machine.

For a split second, an absurd thought flashed through my mind: was this really a robot?

But in the next instant, the heavy intoxication drowned out that sliver of doubt. Did those R&D maniacs at the company really replicate even these physical details one-to-one?

In the face of his devastatingly possessive nature, my pride regarding the past and my suffocating frustrations from the day were completely crushed to dust. I surrendered thoroughly, sinking into the extreme sensory stimulation and the absurd high of revenge.

I didn't know how much time passed.

Aching all over, I collapsed limply into the blankets, lacking the strength to move even a single finger. My brain felt incredibly groggy, drifting on the edge of half-asleep and half-awake.

In the quiet darkness, that warm hand brushed over my bare shoulder, my forearm, and then traced slowly upwards along the side of my neck.

"Where did he touch you before?"

Warm breath washed deliberately against my earlobe. It wasn't the flat, synthesized mechanical voice of Project V. Rather, it was the real, commanding voice of that tyrant—Silas Vanguard—from the top-floor office during the day.

"I'm going to carve off his skin, piece by piece."