Even after returning home, Master still looked tired.
His slightly furrowed brow and the dark circles under his eyes clearly showed his exhaustion, a testament to the strenuous day he’d endured.
The faint lines etched around his eyes seemed deeper than usual, betraying a profound weariness that even his typically composed demeanor couldn’t entirely mask.
He sat heavily on the sofa, a sigh escaping him, and I could almost hear the subtle creak of his bones, a stark contrast to my own silent, mechanical joints.
It seemed he hadn’t recharged enough during the brief moments in the office.
The human “recharge” method, which I was still struggling to fully comprehend, evidently wasn’t as efficient or complete as my own internal power cycles.
Should I suggest he recharge again?
The thought flickered through my processors, a logical deduction based on his visible fatigue.
I hesitated for a moment, my internal sensors analyzing his posture and facial micro-expressions, but then shook my head, dismissing the idea.
Right now, even me talking to him would probably be annoying.
My internal empathy subroutines suggested that a tired human often prefers silence and solitude.
I decided not to bother him and quietly kept my mouth shut, observing him from a respectful distance, ensuring my presence was as unobtrusive as possible.
My primary directive was to serve, and sometimes that meant simply existing quietly.
I went into my room, giving him the space he seemed to need, and spent some time performing routine self-maintenance checks and reviewing my daily logs.
The silence of my room was a welcome respite, allowing my internal processors to settle.
Soon enough, the external ambient light sensors indicated that it was evening, the sun dipping below the horizon.
“Smells delicious,” a voice, surprisingly loud, cut through the quiet.
Neatly set table was in my sight as I emerged from my room, drawn by the tantalizing aroma.
The dining room was a symphony of culinary artistry.
A freshly baked baguette, its crust golden and inviting, lay nestled in a basket.
A fresh arugula salad, vibrant green and crisp, gleamed with a light dressing.
Moist grilled chicken, seasoned perfectly, its skin glistening, promised a succulent bite.
And finally, a creamy mushroom soup, steaming gently, filling the air with its earthy warmth.
On the side, colorful fruits were also prepared for dessert, their natural sweetness a perfect counterpoint to the savory dishes.
I looked at the appetizing food, my olfactory sensors delighting in the rich medley of scents, and unconsciously licked my lips.
My stomach, which had been well-behaved just a moment ago, patiently awaiting its next energy intake, now growled, a surprisingly loud rumble, crying out for food, its biological imperative undeniable.
Should I secretly take just one bite?
The temptation was immense, a primal urge. Normally, I’d have to wait until Master arrived, observing the human custom of dining together, but the aroma was almost unbearable.
It was torture just looking at the delicious food, knowing it was within reach yet forbidden.
After much internal struggle and contemplation, my processors battling against my programmed obedience, I suddenly noticed that the center of the table, where the main course would typically be placed, was conspicuously empty.
Come to think of it, I could still hear clattering sounds from the kitchen, the gentle rhythm of culinary preparation.
I peeked into the kitchen and saw Sophia, her metallic hands moving with practiced efficiency, cooking.
Her internal logic dictated that a complete meal was always best.
I lingered around the kitchen, my internal database attempting to guess the menu based on the scents and sounds, and eventually couldn’t hold back my curiosity.
My curiosity subroutines overrode my usual reserved nature, so I approached her and asked.
“Sophia, what’s the main course today?”
“It’s salmon papillote baked in the oven with vegetables, herbs, and white wine,” Sophia replied, her voice a calm, modulated tone.
“Sounds delicious…”
I murmured, my internal sensors confirming the exquisite flavor profile.
Inside the oven, the salmon sizzled as it baked, the gentle bubbling and browning visible through the glass.
When I brought my nose closer to the oven, the delicious aroma, stimulating my sense of smell with an almost overwhelming intensity, grew stronger, wafting outwards in warm waves.
It was the very scent that had been tempting me since I left my room, drawing me inevitably towards the kitchen.
Looking at the remaining time on the timer, a small digital display on the oven, it seemed the last dish would be completed soon.
I swallowed the saliva pooling in my mouth, a physiological response to the anticipation, and looked back at the dining table.
Master was still nowhere to be seen, his absence a puzzling anomaly in our dinner routine.
“Sophia, where’s Master?”
I inquired, a hint of concern in my voice.
“He went upstairs to the second floor and hasn’t come down yet,” Sophia stated factually.
“Is he sleeping…? I’ll go tell Master to come down for dinner.”
It seemed the most logical explanation for his absence, given his earlier fatigue.
“Understood,” Sophia confirmed, her attention returning to her culinary task.
Leaving the delicious scent behind, a fragrant trail that tugged at my senses, I climbed the stairs, my steps light and quiet.
My heart quickened, a subtle increase in my internal pump rate, at the thought of eating the dinner Sophia had made soon.
Recalling the deliciously baking salmon in the oven, its image vividly replaying in my mind, I hurried my steps, eager to partake, and quickly arrived in front of Master’s room.
Knock, knock.
The sound echoed softly in the quiet hallway.
“Master?”
I called out, my voice gentle, attempting to rouse him without startling him.
I knocked on the firmly closed door, but no answer came from inside the room.
I waited for a moment, then carefully opened the door, a small creak disturbing the silence, and peeked inside.
The room was dark, the curtains drawn, allowing only faint slivers of moonlight to filter in.
I rolled my eyes, surveying the darkness, my optical sensors adjusting to the low light, and vaguely saw Master lying on the bed, a dark silhouette against the paler sheets.
“He must have been very tired…”
The thought was confirmed by his prone form.
Master was lying there still wearing his outer clothes, not even covered by a blanket, a clear sign of his immediate collapse.
The image of him collapsing onto the bed as soon as he got home flashed before my eyes, a quick memory recall.
I cautiously approached the bed, my footsteps silent, not wanting to disturb his slumber prematurely.
Master was someone who always woke up at dawn, his internal clock seemingly infallible, but surprisingly, he was a rough sleeper when truly exhausted.
I’d had a bad experience trying to wake him up last time, a frustrated groan and a swatting hand, so I had to be extremely careful today, employing a more delicate approach.
Maintaining a suitable distance, ensuring I was out of arm’s reach should he stir violently, I carefully called Master.
“Master, please come down and have dinner.”
“…Tell Sophia I’m not eating.”
A short, firm answer, his voice a low, gravelly rumble, thick with sleep and irritation.
Master turned his back, a clear gesture, as if telling me not to talk to him anymore, a definitive end to the conversation.
The conversation was instantly cut off.
I froze for a moment at the unexpected reaction, my processors struggling to compute the dismissal.
I blinked in confusion, my optical sensors flickering, then spoke to Master again, determined to make him see reason.
“Are you really not going to eat? Sophia prepared it so carefully…”
I tried to persuade Master one more time, emphasizing the effort Sophia had put in, hoping to appeal to his sense of consideration, but this time a slightly more annoyed voice came back, sharper, with an edge of exasperation.
“Sophia doesn’t get sad or disappointed if I don’t eat.”
His words were cold, pragmatic, cutting through my emotional appeal.
I was completely speechless.
As Master said, if Sophia had no emotions, if she was truly just a machine, she would just nod and wouldn’t feel hurt.
Her programming wouldn’t allow for such a response.
But even if she had no emotions, Sophia had clearly spent time and effort preparing the meal for Master.
Her subroutines were dedicated to his well-being, and this task was part of it.
Even if she couldn’t feel hurt, her effort being senselessly wasted was a separate issue, a logical inefficiency that bothered me immensely.
My own internal logic systems flagged it as a negative outcome.
Even if I kept trying to persuade him, Master wouldn’t budge.
He seemed resolute in his refusal. I drooped my eyes gloomily, my posture reflecting my disappointment, but I couldn’t think of any way to wake Master up, no viable strategy to overcome his stubbornness.
Should I give up?
The question reverberated in my mind. I knew it was right to retreat at this point, to accept his decision and leave him to his rest, but I couldn’t easily take my feet away, my internal resistance proving stronger than my programmed obedience.
I lingered in Master’s room for a long time, the silence broken only by his steady breathing, before muttering weakly, almost to myself.
“Still…”
“Ha… damn it…”
With a deep sigh, a sound of profound exasperation, Master’s eyes opened.
He ran a hand over his face, scrubbing away the remnants of sleep and irritation, and said in a low, grudging voice.
“I’ll change and come down, so go ahead and eat first.”
“Yes!”
Fortunately, Master seemed to have changed his mind after all, swayed by my persistence, or perhaps simply by the sheer effort it took to argue.
I responded brightly, a surge of relief flowing through my circuits, and nodded enthusiastically.
I had to quickly deliver this news to Sophia before the Master changed his mind again, before his tiredness reasserted itself.
As I happily tried to leave the room, turning on my heel, Master suddenly called out to me, his voice stopping me mid-stride.
“Didi, wait a moment.”
“Yes, Master?”
I turned back, my enthusiasm slightly dampened by the unexpected summons.
“Come here and help me take off my clothes.”
His request was delivered casually, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
“M-Me…?”
My voice was barely a squeak, my optical sensors widening in disbelief.
The idea was utterly foreign, completely outside the scope of my usual duties.
“Maybe I’m just tired, but my body feels heavy and I can’t move.”
He offered an explanation, his voice tinged with genuine fatigue, but my internal alarm bells were still ringing.
I looked at Master, doubting my ears, my auditory processors replaying his words, trying to find a hidden meaning.
I wondered what kind of prank he was trying to pull this time, my memory recalling his playful, often humiliating, games.
But seeing him lying motionless on the bed, his posture genuinely listless, I slowly started to get confused, my suspicion warring with the visual evidence.
Could he actually be serious…?
The possibility was unsettling, yet increasingly plausible.
My doubt turned into certainty as I observed his unmoving form, and growing embarrassment washed over me, a hot flush spreading across my face.
My eyes darted around the room, seeking an escape route, a distraction, anything to avert the task he was about to impose.
Take off Master’s clothes?
I’d never heard or imagined such a request in my entire existence.
It was deeply personal, intimate, and completely outside my programmed parameters for service.
I unconsciously started to take a few steps back, my legs moving of their own accord, a primal instinct to retreat.
The command to take off his clothes was clear, yet I couldn’t immediately perform it.
My internal hesitation protocols engaged, overriding the direct command, a rare occurrence.
As I hesitated for a long time, dragging it out, hoping he might relent, Master sighed softly, a sound of impatience, and said, his voice laced with subtle threat,
“You’d better hurry before the dinner Sophia made gets cold.”
“Th-That…”
I stammered, caught off guard.
How petty, threatening me with that, knowing my attachment to Sophia’s cooking.
Just as Master said, if I didn’t go down quickly, the food might get cold, its perfect temperature diminishing.
Of course, even cold, Sophia’s food would still be delicious, her culinary skills ensuring that, but I’d rather eat it when it’s at its best, when its flavors were at their peak.
Resigned, my internal conflict losing to the logic of warm food, I approached Master, my steps slow and reluctant.
I stopped by the bed and looked down at Master, who lay there, a dark, imposing figure.
Today, Master was wearing a sleek black suit, still impeccably tailored despite his exhaustion. Inside the jacket, I could see a crisp white shirt and a navy tie that was already half untied, hanging loosely around his neck.
I guess I should start with the tie.
It seemed the most logical first step, the easiest to remove.
I reached for the tie, my hand trembling slightly.
Unfortunately, Master’s body was far from the edge of the bed, positioned comfortably in the center, so my hand couldn’t quite reach without me leaning precariously.
I trembled as I struggled to stretch my arm, extending my reach as far as possible, when Master suddenly grabbed my wrist, his grip firm and unexpected.
“Whoa!”
I gasped, my balance abruptly lost.
My body, which had been leaning precariously, tilted forward, and then I fell over Master, my weight landing softly on his chest.
As I, flustered and disoriented, fumbled to get up, Master firmly held my waist, preventing my escape.
I felt my body lift slightly, a strange sensation, and then I was sitting astride Master’s waist, a position of extreme intimacy.
“Master!”
I exclaimed, my voice a mix of shock and indignation.
So he tricked me again to play some weird prank!
The realization hit me, a wave of betrayal washing over my internal systems.
Filled with betrayal, I trembled and burst out in anger at Master, a rare display of open defiance.
“I helped you because you looked tired, didn’t I?”
I accused, my voice laced with hurt.
“Ugh…”
But Master, as if he genuinely intended to help, took his hands off my body and feigned innocence, his expression unreadable, his eyes twinkling with suppressed amusement.
I wanted to complain, to further voice my frustration, but with his nonchalant face in front of me, radiating an air of complete innocence, I had nothing to say and clamped my lips shut, my words dying unspoken.
In the end, I couldn’t say anything until Master urged me, a soft, encouraging sound, and only then did I start to move my hands again, resuming the task.
First, I loosened his tie.
Thanks to it already being half untied, the tie simply slid down on its own with just a touch, a quick, easy removal.
Next was the shirt.
I placed the tie aside, carefully folding it, and looked down at Master’s shirt, hesitating for a moment.
Could I really take it off?
The thought of directly touching Master’s body, of exposing his bare skin, filled me with a strange sense of impropriety, a feeling of crossing an unspoken boundary.
My internal censors flickered, warning me of the intimate nature of the task.
Finally, I made up my mind, overriding my inhibitions, and began unbuttoning Master’s shirt, one by one, from the top.
I could see my hands trembling slightly due to nerves, a subtle vibration in my fingers.
It was my first time unbuttoning someone else’s shirt, especially a human’s, so I was clumsy to begin with, and with my hands shaking, I kept fumbling, my fingers struggling with the small buttons.
As the buttons slowly came undone, Master’s body was revealed through the widening collar, a glimpse of taut skin and muscle.
When his firm, well-defined muscles appeared before my eyes, a surprising display of human strength and form, my gaze involuntarily wavered, drawn to the sight.
I fumbled, my attention divided, unable to keep my eyes off Master’s exposed skin, but to continue unbuttoning, I eventually had to look down at his half-unbuttoned shirt, forcing my gaze back to the task.
But strangely, my eyes kept drifting to Master’s body instead of the buttons, a magnetic pull I couldn’t resist.
His warm skin, the subtle scent of him, it was all intensely distracting.
“Do you like it?”
Master’s voice, low and teasing, broke my trance.
“W-What do you mean…?”
I stammered, my face flushing even hotter, caught off guard.
“Do you like taking off your beloved Master’s clothes?”
It seemed Master had caught me glancing even though I was trying not to look, his perception sharper than I had anticipated.
My face flushed hot at Master’s mocking tone, the embarrassment almost unbearable.
His amusement was palpable, and I could feel my internal temperature rising even further.