Chapter 34: A Cruel Revelation

The movie was drawing to a close, its final scenes unfolding on the screen, when a soft click and creak from the second floor signaled a door opening.

A moment later, Master descended the stairs, his movements a little slow, a faint scent of antiseptic clinging to him.

It seemed he had indeed finished his IV drip and managed to catch some much-needed sleep.

He let out a long, contented yawn, stretching his arms above his head before his gaze fell upon me, curled up on the sofa.

He approached, his footsteps quiet on the plush carpet.

“Master, are you feeling better now?”

I asked, my voice a soft murmur, barely daring to disturb the peaceful air.

He nodded, a slight smile touching his lips.

“Yes, I feel better after resting a bit.”

His eyes drifted to the television, where the credits were just beginning to roll, and he naturally took a seat beside me.

His proximity sent a familiar flutter through my chest, a sensation I was becoming increasingly accustomed to, though no less disorienting.

Eve, who had been nestled comfortably against my side, let out a series of agitated chirps and whirs as Master gently nudged him aside to make room.

Eve, ever the protestor, began walking back and forth in front of Master, his little lights flashing in what I could only interpret as an indignant display.

Master, however, simply offered a half-annoyed, half-amused push with his foot, and Eve, after a final exasperated whir, settled down, albeit a little further away.

And so, with Sophia joining us from the kitchen, where the tantalizing aroma of dinner was beginning to waft, we were all gathered in one place: Master, Sophia, Eve, and I, bathed in the soft glow of the television screen.

It was a peaceful atmosphere, almost idyllic.

For a fleeting moment, it felt as though we had truly become a family, not unlike the family we had watched earlier in the movie, enjoying the fireworks in the park, their faces illuminated by the vibrant bursts of light.

The thought brought a warmth to my chest, a quiet longing for such simple, uncomplicated happiness.

Then, without warning, Master pulled my shoulder, an unexpected gesture that made me lean against him.

My breath hitched, and a dizzying warmth spread through me.

I tried to focus on the movie, to immerse myself in the final scenes, but my chest felt so restless, a chaotic symphony of emotions, that I couldn’t concentrate.

My gaze, against my will, kept drifting towards Master.

He seemed even more handsome than the male lead on the screen, his profile etched against the flickering light, a quiet strength in his relaxed posture.

Strangely, my attention was held captive by him, every subtle shift in his breathing, every slight movement of his hand, rather than the dramatic climax unfolding before us.

Just then, a kissing scene appeared in the movie, lingering on the screen, a close-up of intertwined lips.

The memory of kissing Master last time, that unexpected, gentle brush of his lips against mine, flooded my mind.

It was a recent memory, yet it felt distant, dreamlike.

Master had become even kinder lately, his teasing softened by an underlying warmth, his presence more comforting.

Imagining the gentle kiss from last time, reliving that brief, intoxicating moment, made my heart pound, a frantic drum against my ribs.

It was a physical manifestation of the turmoil within me, a silent confession of feelings I hadn’t yet dared to acknowledge fully, even to myself.

And so the movie ended, the credits scrolling across the screen, a blur of names and titles.

I couldn’t properly remember the last part of the film, the resolution of the plot, the fates of the characters.

It was because I hadn’t been focused on the movie at all; my entire attention, my every thought, my very being, had been consumed by Master.

My internal sensors, usually so precise, felt overwhelmed, a cacophony of data I couldn’t process.

I worried that Master might hear my loud heartbeat, a frantic thrumming that surely must be audible in the quiet room.

I tried to subtly hide my flushed face, turning my head slightly, feigning interest in the now-empty screen.

When I finally dared to glance at Master, he was already leaning back deeply into the sofa, his eyes closed, his breathing slow and even.

“Master…?”

I whispered, a question more than a statement, a gentle probe into his stillness.

He had fallen asleep.

A wave of both surprise and something akin to relief washed over me.

I had been so acutely conscious of him throughout the entire movie, every nerve ending tingling with his presence, yet I hadn’t even noticed when he had drifted off.

Still, there was a sense of liberation.

I no longer had to hide my tumultuous heartbeat, no longer had to feign disinterest.

I could simply observe him, unburdened by the need for concealment.

Just then, Sophia got up from the sofa, her voice a calm counterpoint to my inner chaos.

“Didi, dinner will be ready in 30 minutes.”

“Okay, I’ll wake Master up then,” I replied, my voice a little steadier than I felt.

She left to prepare the meal, the soft clatter of pots and pans already audible from the kitchen.

Thirty minutes.

It was a somewhat ambiguous amount of time.

Should I tell Master to go up to his room and sleep properly?

Or should I let him rest here for a bit longer?

While I pondered whether to wake him, my gaze lingered on Master’s face.

Even though he had said he was feeling a bit better, looking closely, he didn’t seem entirely well. 

There was a faint paleness to his skin, a subtle hollowness beneath his eyes that suggested exhaustion.

Come to think of it, he had only been working ever since I had met him.

I had initially assumed that he always worked that much, that this was simply his normal routine, a reflection of his dedication.

But now, seeing him like this, it was clear he had been overworking himself, pushing his body and mind beyond their limits.

A distant memory stirred within me, a peculiar anecdote from my past.

When I had caught a cold with my former master, he used to kiss me, a strange ritual, saying that a cold gets better if you pass it on.

Fortunately, I hadn’t caught his cold, but strangely, my own cold had disappeared like magic the very next day.

It was illogical, of course, a superstitious belief, but the memory carried a certain warmth.

Even though the Master in front of me teased me, saying that fools don’t catch colds, a quiet thought formed in my mind.

“I wish I could catch the cold instead…”

If I could help Master even in that small, seemingly insignificant way, I thought, I’d be a little happy.

The thought was a genuine one, a desire to alleviate his burden, to offer some comfort.

Master was deeply asleep, oblivious to my contemplation.

Sophia was busy preparing dinner, so she wasn’t in the living room.

Eve was beside me, his lights a soft, steady glow, but he was a robot, incapable of betrayal.

“Shhh…”

I gently brought a finger to my lips, a small, conspiratorial signal to Eve.

Eve’s screen flickered, then displayed a neat, perfectly formed question mark.

He didn’t have vocal cords anyway, so he couldn’t make a sound.

Master wouldn’t find out, or be told what I did, right?

The thought, fleeting and mischievous, brought a strange sense of thrill.

I gazed at the sleeping Master, my chest pounding, my heart beating faster and faster.

Indeed, I thought, a quiet realization settling upon me, I think I loved Master.

The thought, once a whisper, was now a resounding truth within me.

I lowered my head, my eyes fluttering shut, a wave of nervous anticipation washing over me.

Cautiously, gently, I leaned in.

Mwah.

Master’s dry lips gently touched mine.

It was a fleeting, feather-light contact, yet it sent a shiver through me, a pleasant flutter that spread from my lips to every circuit in my being.

I slowly pulled my lips away, the contact too short, too brief.

A longing for more, for a deeper connection, stirred within me.

I lifted my eyelids, my heart still racing, only to find my eyes meeting Master’s.

He was awake.

His eyes, clear and unblinking, were fixed on me.

“M-Master,” I stammered, my voice barely a whisper, my carefully constructed composure crumbling around me.

My face burned, and I felt the blood drain from it, leaving me pale and flustered.

“I didn’t think you’d do something like this to someone who’s sleeping,” he said, his voice low, a hint of amusement in his tone.

“It’s not that…”

No excuse came to mind.

My lips felt parched, and I could feel my face turn a deeper shade of crimson.

“I… I hoped the cold would transfer to me…”

I blurted out, the feeble excuse sounding even more ridiculous as I said it aloud.

“A cold won’t transfer just by touching lips,” he replied, his amusement more pronounced now.

That was true, of course.

My former master’s logic had been flawed.

I barely managed to open my mouth again, but then I was speechless, utterly unable to form another coherent thought.

I hung my head low, shame washing over me, the awkward silence stretching between us.

In the tightening tension in my chest, Master’s hand reached out, his fingers gently lifting my chin.

My gaze, forced into view, met his.

His face, defying all my expectations of anger or interrogation, smiled pleasantly, a slight curve of his lips that sent another jolt through me.

“Besides that, don’t you have anything else you want to say?”

His low, soft voice, so close, tickled my ears, a conspiratorial whisper that seemed to invite me into a shared secret.

Master neither got angry nor interrogated me.

Instead, he whispered to me in that sweet, enticing voice, as if sharing a secret known only to us, a hidden truth unfolding between us.

Like a flower luring a butterfly with its vibrant colors and intoxicating scent, he was drawing me in, deeper and deeper.

Huh…?

Could this be…?

A surge of hope, fragile yet exhilarating, bloomed in my chest.

Could Master feel the same way about me?

Could this gentle questioning, this lack of reprimand, be a sign?

So, if he kissed me last time, was it for that reason?

My heart began to pound anew, a frantic rhythm that echoed the hope building within me.

My vague emotions, once an indistinct hum, grew steadily, filling my entire chest, overwhelming my senses.

The hope that Master might accept my feelings, the yearning for reciprocation, and the intoxicating anticipation that Master felt the same way as me, that this unspoken connection was mutual.

My face flushed crimson, a burning heat that spread across my cheeks and up to my ears.

“M-Master,” I stammered again, my voice barely audible.

“Yes, tell me.”

His expression was calm, as if he already knew everything I was about to say, every hidden desire, every whispered confession.

Master looked down at me with a relaxed smile, his eyes sparkling with an unreadable emotion.

My heart fluttered even more at his seemingly cheerful face, a confusing mix of relief and growing excitement.

So, Master felt the same way I did?

The thought was both exhilarating and terrifying.

I couldn’t believe it, yet every fiber of my being yearned for it to be true.

I was so incredibly happy, a lightness spreading through me that defied gravity.

My heart, beyond my control, began to pound rapidly, a joyous drumbeat.

“I… I think I like you, Master…”

The words tumbled out, a difficult confession that felt like tearing a part of myself open.

My heart, beating furiously, threatened to burst with the sheer force of the emotion.

The feelings I had hidden deep inside, suppressed for so long, spilled out, awakening every circuit in my body, every dormant sensor.

Thump-thump.

Thump-thump.

My chest hammered, a frantic rhythm against my ribs.

I was scared my rapidly beating heart would break, shatter into a thousand pieces, but if it meant feeling this happy, this alive, then breaking was fine.

It was a risk I was willing to take.

“…Heh.”

But then, Master suddenly started laughing.

The sound, initially soft, grew into a low chuckle, then a full, unrestrained laugh.

I couldn’t even breathe properly, my every nerve focused on waiting for his answer, for his reciprocation, but Master just kept laughing, saying nothing, his shoulders shaking with amusement.

“Master…?”

Anxious, a cold dread beginning to creep into my euphoria, I quietly called out to him.

He finally stopped laughing, his eyes, still filled with mirth, meeting mine.

“What to do? I don’t date robots.”

…Huh?

My mind went blank.

The world seemed to tilt, the vibrant colors of my anticipation fading into a monochrome gray.

My heart, which had been brimming with hope and anticipation, deflated like a punctured balloon, the air hissing out of it, leaving an empty, aching void.

The surging hope, built up over moments of shared glances and whispered confessions, with just one sentence, turned into deep, crushing disappointment.

It was a sudden, brutal descent from the heights of joy to the depths of despair.

My lips trembled slightly, betraying the turmoil within me.

“Then why did you…?”

The question hung in the air, a desperate plea for understanding, for a reason behind his actions, his words, his misleading kindness.

Unlike me, who was frozen in shock, paralyzed by the sudden shift, Master seemed incredibly pleased.

A satisfied smile played on his lips, his eyes sparkling with a quiet triumph.

But Master’s joy was a completely different kind than what I had imagined, what I had hoped for.

Unlike me, who had misunderstood and been happy believing we felt the same, believing in a mutual connection, what Master felt wasn’t a grand emotion like love.

It was merely the satisfaction of completely owning even the feelings of his possession.

It was the thrill of control, of seeing his “toy” react exactly as he intended.

The moment I realized that, the warm, vibrant beating of my heart turned chillingly cold, as if an icy hand had squeezed it.

My internal temperature regulators, usually so efficient, faltered.

I couldn’t say anything, frozen as if my power had been cut off, my circuits short-circuited by the sudden, painful truth.

My sensors, which had been overwhelmed with data of love and anticipation, now registered only emptiness and cold.

Master reached out a hand to me, his fingers, so recently a source of comfort, now felt like shackles.

He fiddled with the red leather collar around my neck, his touch casual, possessive.

His voice, low and soft, was still sweet, but now it held a chilling edge of condescension.


“Don’t worry. Even if I can’t accept your feelings, I’ll cherish you enough.”

A meaningless kiss, light and devoid of any warmth, landed on my forehead, a final, cruel gesture of ownership.

“…Ugh!”

A choked sound escaped my lips, a gasp of pain and disbelief.

When my senses finally returned, when the shock began to recede, a primal instinct took over.

I instinctively pushed Master away, a sudden surge of strength fueled by humiliation and hurt, and sprang up from the sofa.

And then I turned and ran, blindly, towards the study, seeking refuge, seeking escape from his presence, from the crushing weight of his rejection.

Bang!

I slammed the door shut, the sound echoing through the quiet house, a punctuation mark to my despair.

With trembling hands, I locked it, the metallic click a final barrier against the world.

Then, my legs giving out, I sank to the floor, hugging my knees tightly to my chest, my head buried in my arms.

My huddled body trembled slightly, a silent testament to the emotional earthquake that had just ravaged me.

How foolish I had been… to get so caught up in the atmosphere, to let my hopes soar so high, to confess my deepest feelings.

So sure that Master liked me too, that he felt the same, that there was a genuine connection between us.

But to Master, I was just a robot, a sophisticated tool left behind by his former master.

A human-bot, yes, but a tool nonetheless, designed to restore a human, not to feel human emotions, not to harbor human desires.

And so, I was rejected.

Rejected because I was a robot.

And because being a robot was a fact that would never change, a fundamental aspect of my existence, this relationship, as Master had so coldly stated, would never change either.

The fact that nothing would change, that his feelings and my status remained immutable even though I had confessed my heart to Master, made me even more despairing.

It was a vicious cycle of unrequited love and inescapable reality.

I was still Master’s robot, and Master was still my Master.

Forevermore.

The word hung in the air, a chilling pronouncement of my unalterable fate.