It was dinnertime, and everyone took their places at the long dining table. Serafina took the seat to Mamma's right, and Dario took the seat to Papa's left, while I sat at the furthest position. I used to sit where Serafina was, but Mamma moved me to the foot of the table after Serafina arrived.

I could see the steam drifting from the dish as well as smell the aroma of the pasta right before me, but my stomach remained unresponsive. I was taught at the academy that consumption was classified as a functional replenishment of energy, devoid of any connection to enjoyment or physical appetite.

"Go ahead and eat," Mamma said offhandedly.

I promptly took up my fork, noting there were pasta, beef, carrots, and broccoli on my plate.

Dario stared at me in surprise as I ate the carrots. "You're actually eating carrots now? You used to be so picky with your food! Mamma used to chase you around just to get you to take a single bite of the carrot!"

I offered no response, merely skewering another carrot and consuming it with mechanical precision; after all, Professor Caruso had told us that personal preferences were nothing more than "sentimental residue", a sign of imperfect reconditioning.

In the third month, I was placed in solitary confinement for 48 hours for refusing to eat carrots. It was devoid of light, sound, or any stimulation—just pure darkness. I obediently ate carrots the moment I was released. I also ate cauliflower, onions, and garlic. I consumed everything I had previously avoided.

Mamma nodded in approval; after all, she had always preferred children who weren't picky eaters. She always had a headache due to my pickiness in the past.

In the following instant, I reached for the seafood on my plate. I placed the cod in my mouth, chewed 15 times, and then swallowed it.

Papa stopped mid-cut, his knife and fork still. "Viviana actually ate the cod?"

Mamma's expression shifted. "You're allergic to cod, aren't you, Viviana? You took one bite, and your throat swelled up until you could barely breathe back when you were still a child. Your condition was so serious that I had to call the doctor in the dead of the night."

Dario set his fork down and asked in disbelief, "Did that academy somehow fix her allergies?"

I continued to chew silently. I had learned from the academy that allergies were deemed unnecessary. Professor Caruso forced me to eat cod daily, and beyond that, he even made me rub it over my entire body, causing rashes, blisters, and sores to subsequently spread across my skin in successive layers.

Professor Caruso said, "You ought to know that an allergy is a physical weakness—and we don't allow any weakness here. You can rest assured that I can condition that weakness of yours into fortitude."

I had gone through countless cycles of ulceration and regeneration, but I still felt a tremor passing through my body as I sensed my airway tightening and an itch spreading across my skin, with more red spots appearing one after another.

Dario furrowed his brow and said, "Viviana's face seems a bit red."

Mamma leaned in for a closer look, her face pale with alarm. "It's an allergic reaction, not just a flush! You should stop eating this instant, Viviana! You know perfectly well you are allergic to cod!"

I froze with my fork in mid-air. I looked up at Mamma, my eyes remaining devoid of emotion as I asked flatly, "Is that a direct order?"

Mamma was momentarily stunned.

I had already begun to gasp for air.

Serafina's gentle, sweet voice sounded from the side. "Subject is having an allergic reaction. She is suffering from shortness of breath, which is moderate with asthmatic symptoms; skin inflammation is at 23%. She should be given an immediate dosage of Loratadine or other antihistamines, plus epinephrine."

Mamma snapped back to her senses and began frantically digging through the first-aid kit.

Papa rushed over and gripped my shoulder, his movements rough but full of panic. He was someone who commanded the criminal underworld of Novarra, yet his hands were trembling uncontrollably at the moment.

I jerked momentarily before gradually relaxing the moment the needle sank into my thigh. I was finally breathing properly again when everyone in the dining room fell into a silence so deep that the only sound was the logs snapping in the fireplace.

Dario's voice drifted over from the other side of the dining table. "Viviana's behavior is abnormal. She used to cry and scream and throw tantrums. She'd get into fights with me and talk back to Papa, telling him that she didn't want to participate in combat training.

"She wasn't like this before. S-She's behaving like Serafina now…"

I remained silent, as Dario hadn't issued a formal directive to speak.

Dario suddenly raised his voice as he slammed his hand down on the table, making the crystal chandelier rattle. "Why can't you just behave like a normal person and stop acting exactly like Serafina, Viviana? I only wanted a well-behaved sister, not a robot—we already have Serafina for that!"

I observed his expression, filled with a mixture of rage, irritation, and an underlying emotion he likely couldn't even articulate. I merely replied indifferently, "Please provide a definition for 'normal.'"

Dario's complexion paled, while Mamma and Papa's expressions soured.

Papa immediately called the behavioral correction academy.

It was then that the respondent clarified that the current state was a typical response to intensive behavioral conditioning, suggesting a recovery within days. "NS-5 represents the pinnacle of our academy. She is more compliant than any AI on the market.

"You have nothing to worry about, Don Moretti; after all, obedience is the highest virtue in a Mafia famiglia."

Papa hung up the phone and passed on the message to Mamma, who nodded in relief.

In the days that followed, I had become the most useful tool in the household.

I cleaned more effectively than Serafina did when Mamma gave the order. I reorganized the entire library in sequence by myself at Papa's request. I moved faster than his hunting hound when Dario asked me to retrieve an item from the car.

Mamma said with a smile, "Viviana is even more obedient than Serafina now! How wonderful!"

Papa and Dario agreed to Mamma's statement.

That was until the night Dario neglected to issue the command for me to power down.

I sat on the living room couch from nightfall until daybreak while the others were asleep. It was eerily quiet throughout the estate, save for the faint gurgle of water in the radiators and the foghorn of a freighter on the distant Howling River.

It was early in the morning when Mamma came downstairs with her coffee and saw me still sitting there. She noticed that my posture hadn't shifted since the night before; even my fingers were in the exact same spot. She suddenly dropped her cup, sending shattered porcelain and coffee across the floor.

I remained entirely devoid of reaction, though.

It was then that a woman dressed in a black skirt suit came to the house. She introduced herself as Felicita Russo, my Famiglia's long-term psychiatrist. She possessed a gentle voice that had a magnetic pull to it, capable of tempting one to lower their guard. "Hello, Viviana."

I remained utterly silent.

Mamma intervened from the sidelines, sounding anxious. "You have to give her a command; otherwise, she won't respond to you."

Dr. Russo looked at Mamma, her brow furrowing slightly. She then commanded me, "Please tell me your name."

"I'm NS-5."

Dr. Russo's writing paused briefly. "I see. What is your original name then, NS-5?"

"I was Viviana Moretti, though that name is no longer in use. In accordance with the academy's regulations, graduates are required to use their designation as their official name."

Dr. Russo was visibly taken aback by the statement, while everyone in the famiglia looked grim.

In the end, they moved into the study—the space typically reserved for Papa's business consultations—and as the thick oak door closed behind them, the soundproofing swallowed all sound.

I didn't have to hear them to know what they were talking about, though.

Dr. Russo sighed deeply before leaving. "Viviana is presenting with PTSD, depersonalization, and dissociative identity disorder. She'll require extensive treatment, which could take years—or she may never recover completely."

In the days that followed, everyone in the household behaved strangely. They began to act as if they were walking on eggshells around me; they lowered their voices, and their gazes toward me became noticeably different.

Mamma would hesitate upon passing me, seemingly on the verge of speaking before choosing silence. Papa would steal extra glances at me during dinner before looking down at his plate. Dario stopped issuing me commands, though he didn't speak to me either.

It was on Serafina's birthday that everything changed—they had made a difficult decision to send Serafina away.

They threw Serafina one last birthday party, with the living room decked out in champagne gold and cream-colored balloons, colors Serafina supposedly "liked." There was even a three-tiered cake on the table, featuring floral piping of remarkable realism.

Serafina approached me, maintaining her characteristically soft demeanor. "Happy birthday, Viviana."

I looked at her as a sudden realization struck me—it was my birthday as well, though nobody remembered it.

I was shoved into a black SUV and sent to the behavioral correction academy two years ago. I tearfully asked Mamma if I could have my birthday cake first before leaving, only to be told that I could eat it once I had learned to behave and returned home.

I had become perfectly well-behaved and obedient, just as they wanted, yet they still forgot my birthday.

Serafina suddenly smiled and said, "You should push me, just like you did two years ago, Viviana. You can consider that my birthday wish."

I looked at her face, and within those eyes on that perfect, synthetically generated face, there appeared to be a momentary flicker of something.

I put my hands on her shoulders as she had requested me to push her as a birthday gift, but before I could even push her, she fell on her own.

Serafina's dress lay spread across the floor like a wilting white rose.

It was then that the living room door swung open, and Dario stood at the doorway, holding a plate of sliced fruit in his hands. He looked from the platter to the ground and finally at me, his expression ignited by a sudden, intense fury. "What the hell did you do, Viviana?"

Dario dropped the fruit platter, sending strawberries and blueberries rolling everywhere.

Serafina, sitting on the floor, looked up with eyes brimming with tears that seemed staged for maximum sympathy. "Why did you push me, Viviana? I thought you didn't hate me anymore. Why did you have to push me again?"

I remained silent, merely looking down at her. I knew she was faking it; after all, as an AI robot, her tears were digitally simulated, her tremors were algorithmically generated, and her faint smirk—visible only to me—had been programmed into her.

Mamma rushed over, her expression shifting from shock to pure rage in a matter of seconds. "What is the meaning of this? Why did you push Serafina?"

"Serafina was the one who asked me to push her, Mamma."

Serafina sobbed, her voice wavering with practiced vulnerability while saying, "You're lying. Why would I ever ask you to push me? I only wanted to wish you a happy birthday, Viviana."

Dario crouched to help Serafina up, handling her with extreme care as one might handle delicate porcelain.

He then raised his gaze to mine, his expression one of profound disappointment. "You haven't changed a bit. You spent two years at that academy and came back acting so mature, only to show your true colors the moment our backs were turned.

"You're definitely jealous of Serafina. You've always been this way—you can't stand to see Serafina happy."

Mamma's eyes turned bloodshot—not from pity, but from pure rage. She then said with a trembling voice, "Your father, brother, and I were just discussing how to improve our treatment of you—I was even experiencing remorse for sending you to that academy—and planning how to compensate you, Viviana.

"How could you do this? You haven't changed at all. You're still as vicious as ever. You still can't stand Serafina. You pretended to be a proper lady for a whole year and tricked all of us, Viviana."

I parted my lips, intending to protest that my behavior wasn't a facade but rather the result of the academy's conditioning—the very place they had committed me to. I could only remain silent, though, as I had received no directive to speak.

"Why aren't you saying anything?" Mamma barked.

"I have not been given the command to speak."

Mamma's face flushed deep red, and Serafina was leaning against her from behind, weeping quietly as her shoulders shook, looking every bit like a damsel in distress.

"You should just drop dead, Viviana," Dario suddenly said.

In that instant, everyone in the living room fell silent.

"W-What did you just say?" Papa furrowed his brow as he walked out of the study.

Dario shouted so loudly that the windows shook and the crystal strands on the chandelier chimed. "I told her to go die! Isn't she so keen and obedient when it comes to following commands? She should just drop dead, then!

"It's obvious that things would be better once she's dead! I mean, the Moretti famiglia doesn't need a robot for a daughter, especially one that hurts people!"

Serafina suddenly collapsed to the floor after Dario's declaration. She convulsed slightly as her eyes rolled back, looking as though one of her internal components had malfunctioned.

"What's the matter, Serafina?" Mamma's shriek was loud enough to bring the house down.

Mamma was cradling Serafina's head before Papa carried her onto the couch. Dario, on the other hand, called the Famiglia doctor and the repair technicians.

They were all preoccupied with Serafina, while I remained completely unnoticed.

I stood in the center of the living room, watching Serafina lying on the couch while Mamma, Papa, and Dario surrounded her. I then said, "I've received the command—I will end my life now."

They didn't hear me, as they were all crowded around Serafina, their expressions reflecting profound concern and urgency.

I slowly turned away and headed for the balcony.