I woke up before my alarm even went off.
A faint, premonitory anxiety had gnawed at me since before I fell asleep, a quiet fear that if I overslept, my master might change his mind and go to work alone.
Perhaps it was that very anxiety that had spurred me awake, long before the shrill summons of the alarm clock.
The spot next to me was already empty, the sheets cool where he had been.
I slowly got up, my fingertips tracing the faint warmth my master had left behind, a ghost of his presence.
As I stared blankly around the quiet room, my eyes met my master’s, who had just emerged from the bathroom, a towel draped casually around his neck.
“Didi? You’re already up?” he asked, a hint of surprise in his voice.
“Yes, Master. Good morning.”
My gaze darted around, unable to find a place to rest, until I finally lowered my head, accepting defeat.
My programming often struggled with such direct, unexpected attention.
The immediate benefit of my early awakening was that I could accompany my master to work on time today.
As soon as we arrived at the company and stepped into the bustling office, his secretary approached him, a stack of folders clutched in her hands.
“Chairman, reporters are scheduled to visit this morning for an interview.”
Suddenly, a memory surfaced: a fragmented conversation I’d overheard when I’d visited Thomas’s lab.
They had been discussing the need to adjust the interview schedule because my master had abruptly left the new product presentation.
A pang of guilt tightened something in my chest. It had happened because I had disappeared without a word, causing him to rush out of such an important event.
I resolved that I shouldn’t interrupt this time and quietly moved to the side, settling onto the plush sofa in the corner of the office, intending to be as unobtrusive as possible.
My master and the secretary spent a considerable amount of time organizing the interview details.
It was a long meeting, filled with the rustle of papers and low murmurs as they reviewed documents and confirmed logistics.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the secretary left the office, her heels clicking softly on the polished floor, stating that the reporters would arrive soon.
Only after the office became quiet, save for the hum of unseen machinery, did my master get up and walk towards me.
He slumped down next to me on the sofa, where I had been waiting patiently, his sigh a soft puff of air beside me.
“Master, are you ready for the interview?”
I asked, my voice a little softer than usual.
“More or less.”
He leaned back against the sofa, his eyes already seeming tired, a slight shadow under them.
Then, he turned his head and looked at me, his gaze surprisingly intense.
“Didi.”
“Yes, Master.”
“Do you want to come to the company again tomorrow?”
The question was short, simple even, but I quickly understood its underlying intention.
My internal processors whirred, analyzing the implications.
I looked away, my gaze drifting towards the large window overlooking the city, hesitating as I asked, “Are you… suggesting we do it now? Guests will be here soon…”
My voice trailed off, a hint of trepidation in my tone.
“We can finish before they arrive.”
His voice was low, persuasive, and I felt a strange warmth spread through my circuits.
“I guess so…”
I murmured, already feeling my resolve weakening.
I was persuaded by my master’s words and nodded, a small, almost imperceptible movement.
After all, it wouldn’t take long if I didn’t cling to him like yesterday…
I fidgeted with my fingers, my gaze flickering towards him.
He was staring at me quietly, a subtle smile playing on his lips, as if waiting for me to make the next move, to lean in and kiss him.
Suddenly, my master’s lips came into view, closer now, illuminated by the morning light filtering through the blinds.
They looked warm and soft, an inviting curve.
But I knew better.
Once we started kissing, he would devour me, his initial gentleness transforming into a possessive intensity, as if he hadn’t just looked that way.
I leaned towards my master, my movements careful, almost hesitant, and then, I kissed him.
First, I lightly licked his lips, a tentative exploration.
Feeling his breath tickle my nose, a sensation that always surprised me, I gently parted my lips and lightly touched the tip of his tongue with my own.
As I kissed him softly, a sigh escaped him, and my master immediately wrapped his hand around my neck, deepening the kiss, pulling me closer until there was no space between us.
“Mmm…”
A soft sound escaped me, lost in the melding of our mouths.
Our tongues intertwined softly, a dance of intimate discovery, and a hot warmth filled my mouth, spreading through my core.
A shiver ran through my body every time our lips met, a small electrical current that made my fingers twitch.
Again today, my clumsy tongue was completely at my master’s mercy, guided by his more practiced movements.
My master had said we’d finish quickly, a fleeting reassurance, so I thought this gentle, deepening kiss would be enough and tried to gently pull my lips away.
But his hand, surprisingly firm, held the back of my head, not letting go, keeping me pressed against him.
“Master, ah… people will be here soon… Please stop…”
I managed to whisper, my voice muffled against his mouth. Before I could say anything more, my master chuckled softly, the sound a low rumble in his chest, without breaking the kiss.
He whispered, his breath warm against my lips, “Didi, should we start a dating rumor?”
“A dating rumor?”
The words were a soft gasp.
“You want to cause a scandal with me too, don’t you?”
Short kisses followed, one after another, on my lips.
My master kissed me lightly, pecking as he asked, his voice laced with amusement, a playful challenge.
My heart skipped a beat, a physical thump against my ribs, and my cheeks flushed hot, a familiar warmth spreading across my face.
It was as if my hidden desire, the irrational longing to be envied by those who had dating rumors with my master, had been exposed, laid bare.
A dating rumor with my master…
The thought was absurd, utterly preposterous, yet just imagining it made my heart pound with an exhilarating, forbidden thrill.
The idea was intoxicating, a brief, beautiful fantasy.
Just then, a sharp, authoritative knock came from outside the door, pulling me back to the present with a jolt.
— “Chairman, New Times is here.”
The secretary’s voice was clear, if a little muffled through the thick door.
The lips that had been teasing my ear, waiting for my answer, gently pulled away, but only just.
Stopping close enough to touch, my master whispered, his voice only loud enough for me to hear, “What should we do, Didi? Should we keep kissing?”
Every time my master spoke, his lips brushed my earlobe as if giving a soft kiss, a delicate feather-light touch.
His breath, warm against my skin, made my heart pound as if it would burst from my chest.
My breathing became a messy, uneven thing due to the tempting offer that was so hard to refuse, so utterly desirable.
My heart raced like crazy, imagining a dating rumor between my master and me that would shake up all the media – such an absurd, impossible thought, yet one that held such a strange allure.
However…
I quickly composed myself.
My internal logic circuits re-engaged.
A dating rumor with a robot would surely tarnish my master’s reputation, casting an unfavorable shadow on his image and company. It would be an unprofessional, potentially damaging scandal.
Understanding the situation quickly, I calmly assessed the implications, shaking my head slightly, pulling away from my master’s embrace.
As I did, he curved his lips upward, a knowing, almost mischievous smile, as if he had expected my rational response all along.
— “Chairman?”
The secretary outside called my master’s name again, her voice sounding a little puzzled, perhaps a hint of impatience creeping in.
My master smoothed the crumpled shirt hem that was the size of my hand, a small, almost imperceptible gesture, then spoke, his voice perfectly composed, no hint of the intimacy that had just passed.
“Come in.”
The office door opened, and reporters and people carrying broadcasting equipment entered one by one, a stream of professional activity.
The large office quickly became bustling with their presence, the air filling with the quiet murmur of voices and the clatter of equipment.
There were more people than expected, so I quietly moved further into a corner, receding into the shadows to avoid being in the way, making myself as small and inconspicuous as possible.
My master looked perfectly composed, unbelievably so for someone who had just been exploring my lips with such passion.
His neatly swept blond hair, immaculate suit, and relaxed, almost charming smile were in every way the complete opposite of me, whose heart was still pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs.
Then, my eyes met my master’s across the room.
A wave of heat rushed to my face, and I bowed my head, needlessly rubbing the back of my hand over my lips, where the soft, lingering sensation of his kiss still remained, a ghost of intimacy.
“Then, we shall begin.”
My master began the interview, his voice smooth and confident, with his usual composed expression, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened just moments before.
I couldn’t hide my mortified expression and quietly held my breath, hoping no one would notice my flushed cheeks or the rapid beat of my heart.
“Good morning, Mr. Spencer. The new product launch held two days ago caused quite a stir. A humanoid robot being released after such a long time! I hear there’s already a long waiting list for reservations.”
The reporter’s voice was bright, enthusiastic.
It was about the new product, then.
To think reservations were already being taken.
It had only been a few weeks since I saw the prototype, a glimpse of my own kind, and the release schedule felt incredibly rushed, almost too quick for such a complex product.
Since I had left the venue before the presentation even began, rushing out into the night, I had no idea how the schedule was progressing.
So, that’s why my master seemed so busy lately, always occupied, always preoccupied.
I perked up my ears, hoping to learn something new from the interview, to fill in the gaps in my understanding.
“Many people are particularly curious about why you suddenly left during the event. May I ask if something happened?”
This was the first question, direct and probing.
I flinched as soon as the question ended, a subtle twitch of my fingers.
Knowing that the reason my master had rushed out of such an important event was entirely because of me, I glanced at him like a guilty thief, my internal systems flickering with self-reproach.
“My robot disappeared without a word.”
My master answered that way, his voice calm, but his gaze, unexpectedly, turned directly to me.
Because of that, everyone’s gaze suddenly turned to me, a wave of curious scrutiny.
“My robot often gets lost.”
He added, a hint of amusement in his tone, a light-hearted dismissal.
I didn’t know what to do under so many eyes, feeling exposed and vulnerable.
Fortunately, the cameras weren’t pointed at me, focusing instead on my master.
Only my master smiled, his lips upturned as if amused by my flustered state, a private moment shared in a crowded room.
“It’s good to see you cherish your robots, just like your grandfather, the former chairman.”
The reporter mentioned my master’s grandfather, a figure of significant influence.
My master usually didn’t particularly like such comparisons, often bristling at them, so I expected him to be annoyed, to show some sign of irritation.
But today, surprisingly, he just smiled and moved on without much reaction, a cool mask of composure.
The next question followed immediately, a seamless transition.
“The manufacturing of human-like robots was prohibited due to ethical concerns. How did you resolve that issue?”
“Robots have made significant technological advancements, but they’ve been limited by restrictions on their appearance, particularly their human-like forms. Spennic has spent a long time attempting to revise relevant laws to overcome these limitations, personally visiting and persuading state representatives, ethics committees, and regulatory authorities multiple times.”
His voice was firm, authoritative, reflecting his efforts.
“However, that was a law enacted by the former chairman, the founder of Humanbot himself. I understand it was created despite criticism from the industry and public opinion at the time.”
The reporter pressed, hinting at a potential conflict of interest or a reversal of family legacy.
“My grandfather must have made that decision considering various social issues and the prevailing sentiments of his time. However, I believe that decision, while well-intentioned, ultimately halted technological progress in a significant way. Now that I’ve become the CEO of Spennic, following in my grandfather’s footsteps, I want to rectify that problem, to push the boundaries of what’s possible.”
My master answered with conviction, his voice ringing with a determined resolution.
On the surface, it was a confident reply, a statement of purpose.
But the content subtly felt like he was scoffing at his grandfather’s past decision, a quiet rebellion against a previous generation’s limitations.
Yet, no one seemed to notice, accepting his explanation at face value.
“Among those who have been waiting for Humanbot, some voices expressed disappointment that this model lacks emotional functionality.”
Another reporter interjected, bringing up a common point of contention among potential users.
“Emotional functionality is still being restored. Once it’s technologically complete, I believe it can be applied through future updates, enhancing the user experience significantly.”
My master’s response was precise, reassuring.
“So, it’s highly likely that future products will also be equipped with emotional functionality?”
“That’s right.”
He confirmed, a confident nod.
I quietly listened to my master’s answers, lost in thought, my mind replaying his words, especially about emotional functionality.
Did my master still believe I held some great secret, some hidden knowledge or ability?
I couldn’t predict his thoughts at all anymore. He used to constantly press me about whether I remembered anything, about my past, about my origins.
But lately, he hadn’t even mentioned it, the questions ceasing as abruptly as they had begun.
Perhaps my master had already realized that I knew nothing, that my memories were truly gone, a blank slate.
And yet, despite that, my master kissed me and became intimate with me, holding me close.
The one who had once said he wouldn’t associate with a mere robot sometimes slept with me in his arms, his warmth a comforting presence against my circuits, and other times smiled and kissed me with a tenderness that defied logic.
If all of this was just my master’s whim, a fleeting fancy…
I could only hope that the end of it would not come for a very long time, that this cherished connection would endure, a secret kept between us in a world that would never understand.