Chapter 2

My dad’s arms froze in mid-air.

The smile on his face slowly melted away, leaving nothing but sheer shock.

My mom quickly stepped forward, pulling his arms down, trying to force a bright, cheerful smile onto her face.

"Oh, look at Tyler! He’s so polite now. That's a good thing, right?"

She reached out, trying to take my hand.

I stepped back again, keeping exactly three meters of distance between us.

My mom's smile completely froze.

My dad’s face darkened, but he tried to keep his patience.

"Tyler, stop playing games. Let's go home with Mom and Dad."

I didn't move. I just stared at them with empty, hollow eyes.

Exactly sixty seconds later, I nodded once.

"Command confirmed: Go home."

I turned on my heel and marched forward. Every single step I took was of the exact same length.

They followed silently behind me, the air heavy with tension.

The car pulled up to our familiar suburban house, but I felt absolutely nothing.

They led me to my room.

Plain white walls. Plain white sheets. A bare white desk.

Aside from the bare essentials, there wasn't a single decoration.

It looked exactly like a high-end hospital ward.

My dad spoke, his voice carrying a desperate, pleading tone.

"Tyler, look! We made a brand new room just for you. You always used to complain about how messy your room was. You're going to love this one, right?"

I scanned the room and nodded.

"This complies with Appendix Two of the New Life Protocol: Standard Environmental Cleanliness."

The muscles in my dad’s jaw twitched.

Dinner time.

I sat at the dining table, my spine perfectly straight, my hands resting flat on my thighs.

Once dinner started, I picked up my fork and only ate the steamed broccoli directly in front of me.

The number of times I chewed, the exact intervals at which I drank water—everything followed an invisible, rigid schedule.

My mom watched me, her eyes filled with an overwhelming, painful ache.

She picked up a piece of juicy pot roast and put it on my plate.

"Tyler, sweetheart, this was your absolute favorite. Come on, try some."

I put down my fork.

Then, right in front of her, I used my fork to pick up the meat and placed it onto an empty side plate.

I raised my head, looked at her suddenly pale face, and recited calmly:

"Protocol Seven of the New Life Protocol: Reject unsolicited gifts to eliminate greed."

"You don't have to follow those stupid rules at home!"

My dad finally snapped. He slammed his hand on the table and roared.

I turned my eyes to him, devoid of any emotion.

"The Protocol is life. It cannot be violated."

The silence in the dining room became suffocating.

Right then, a little girl in pink pajamas came waddling into the room.

She was holding a plush doll, holding it up toward me.

"Tyler, play with me!"

It was Lily.

I instantly stood up from my chair and took two rapid steps back, putting distance between us.

"Protocol Nineteen of the New Life Protocol: Contact with highly addictive entertainment materials is strictly prohibited."

My response was instant, robotic, and cold.

Four-year-old Lily was terrified.

She stood frozen on the spot, her lips trembling, and then she let out a loud, piercing sob.

Her crying shattered the silence of the room.

Three years ago, a cry just like this had made my dad smash my castle.

History was repeating itself.

My mom’s face twisted in anger. Without even thinking, she screamed at me.

"Not again! Why do you always—"

But the moment her eyes met mine—completely blank, empty, lifeless—the fire in her voice was instantly snuffed out by a wave of pure dread.

Her mouth hung open, but she couldn't utter another word. A chilling shiver ran down her spine.

My dad, visibly frustrated, scooped up the crying Lily and waved his hand dismissively.

"Fine! Just go back to your room!"

I didn't argue.

"Command received."

I turned, took my ruler-straight strides, and left the dining room.

Behind me, Lily's crying continued, accompanied by the increasingly heavy, panicked breathing of my parents.

They had finally gotten their "perfect" son.

An absolutely obedient, rule-following machine.