Chapter 3

The next day, my father tried to compensate me with material things.

He bought back the latest LEGO model set, containing thousands of pieces.

It was the "Galactic Fortress" I used to dream about having.

He pushed the huge box in front of me, his face showing a hint of expectation.

"Nora, look what I got you."

I walked forward, my gaze lingering on the box for three seconds.

Then I calmly picked it up, walked to the storage cabinet, and placed it on the highest, most difficult-to-reach shelf.

I turned around and met his astonished gaze.

"New Life Code, Article Fifteen: Unnecessary complex creative activities are prohibited to prevent scattered thinking."

My father's face instantly turned livid.

The gift he had spent an entire evening rushing to buy was treated by me as a contraband item that needed to be sealed away.

My mother, meanwhile, tried to awaken me with emotion.

She pulled out a thick photo album, waved at me, wanting me to sit beside her.

I remained seated without moving.

Seeing this, my mother had no choice but to hold the album in front of me, pointing to one of the photos.

"Nora, look, this is you. So adorable."

In the photo, an eight or nine-year-old girl wore a T-shirt covered in paint, smiling brilliantly at the camera, with a bit of cream still on her teeth.

I looked at the photo she pointed to without reaction.

After half a minute, I finally nodded.

"Data confirmed. Subject: Nora Lincoln. Time: ninth birthday."

I paused, then added:

"Emotional response module not activated."

My mother's hands holding the album began to tremble. She looked to my father as if seeking help.

My father's Adam's apple bobbed, but he said nothing.

That afternoon, my brother was chasing a ball around the living room.

His feet slipped, and he fell forward, his knee hitting hard against the corner of the coffee table.

"Wahhh—"

Heart-wrenching cries erupted as blood instantly seeped from his knee.

"Tyler!"

My mother and father cried out and were about to rush over.

But I was faster than them.

My body activated like an emergency medical robot, instantly springing into action.

I rushed to the medicine cabinet, opened it, and took out iodine, cotton swabs, and bandages.

The entire process had no pause.

I walked quickly to my brother, crouching down.

He was sobbing uncontrollably, looking at me with fear.

I said in a voice without inflection: "Emergency medical protocol activated. Step one: clean the wound."

My fingers were as steady as surgical clamps, precisely using cotton swabs dipped in iodine to clean his bleeding wound.

I wiped ten times total, changing cotton swabs after every five wipes.

The wound was irritated, making him cry harder, his body starting to thrash.

"Command: Remain still."

I spoke coldly.

My brother seemed frightened by my voice. His crying hitched, and he actually stopped moving.

I quickly cleaned, disinfected, and applied the bandage.

After finishing, I stood up and reported to my dumbstruck parents:

"Treatment complete. Wound depth approximately two millimeters, length three centimeters."

"Recommend twenty-four hour observation to prevent infection."

After speaking, I turned to clean the used medical supplies.

Only my brother's suppressed sobbing remained in the living room.

My mother looked at my meticulous back, her lips trembling, finally managing to speak:

"Before... even when he just scraped his skin a little, you would cry harder than him..."

I stopped what I was doing and turned to look at her.

My eyes were hollow, as if analyzing an incomprehensible term.

"Sad?"

I tilted my head, seemingly searching for this command in my database.

After a few seconds, I provided an answer:

"No relevant command in database."

In that moment, I clearly saw fear climb onto their faces for the first time.

They were finally beginning to realize.

What they had personally erased wasn't just my so-called "flaws."

But also my "humanity."