Allergic To Love

Chapter Five

"Input? Input what?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “Into… what, exactly?”

Swift smirked like he was explaining some grand philosophy to a child.

“The first thing to input is the hierarchy of this house. Everything I love here has a place in my system—a caste system, if you will. At the top? The pretties. My backscratcher, my old-fashioned vacuum-cleaning robots.”

I stared at him. “Wait. Are you telling me I rank beneath a backscratcher?”

He burst out laughing, clutching his stomach. “Ha! Not beneath. Much lower.”

The laughter stung more than I expected. He wasn’t joking.

“So what do I do, then? Earn my way up the ladder?”

“Exactly. You earn points by making me happy. Enough points, and maybe, maybe you’ll be called ‘pretty’ too.”

I forced a smile, but inside, my thoughts curdled. Do I really have to play this idiotic game?

“To start,” he continued, grinning like a child with a new toy, “I’ll even celebrate your birthday.”

Imbecile. What kind of lunatic celebrates a robot’s birthday?

Before I could retort, my stomach cramped hard. I pressed my hand against it. “Ah… why now?” I muttered, doubling over.

Swift’s eyes sharpened. “What are you doing?”

I pointed weakly at the door across the hall. “That room, Master… what is it?”

“That’s mine,” he said firmly. “No one but me goes in there.”

The cramp twisted again, and before I could control it, an embarrassing sound slipped out.

Swift’s head whipped around. “What was that noise?”

My cheeks burned, but I forced a mischievous grin. “Master… you farted.”

“What?!” His face was priceless, caught between offense and confusion.

“It wasn’t me,” he said quickly.

“Then was it me, a robot?” I teased, tilting my head. “If I were you, I’d change your underwear. The smell is terrible.”

His jaw dropped. And then he actually believed me. He hurried off in a fluster, muttering about checking.

I took the chance and darted straight into the nearest bathroom.

Moments later, his voice echoed down the hall. “Where did she go? …A ghost?”

When he swung the forbidden door open, I was already scrubbing the sink.

“What are you doing?!” he demanded.

“Cleaning up, Master.” I flashed my most innocent smile.

“You…” His gaze darted over the room. “Did someone come in here?”

“No, Master.”

“The flushing sound… was that you?”

“Yes.”

I never told you to clean this bathroom,” he said with a distressed face.

“You… is it okay to get your hands wet?” he asked.

“Of course. I even wash dishes. I’m a state-of-the-art robot,” she said, smiling.

“That’s a lie,” he said. “You can’t deceive me. Not in my own house. You can’t clean up with perfume. Didn’t you read the label?” He took the perfume away from her hand.

“Cleaning with perfume is all the trend these days,” she said, smiling.

“For a $1,000 perfume, you will pour this down the toilet?” he said, mimicking her tone.

“Sorry, the soap alone didn’t take away the smell,” she said to herself, smiling.

As she was talking, he looked at her face.

“You… you are a bit strange,” he said.

“What? How so?” she asked.

… Is that sweat on your cheek?”

I froze. My hand darted up too late. His stare sharpened as he stepped closer.

“Robots don’t sweat.”

Before he could press further, his foot slipped on the tile. He went down hard. Instinct took over—I lunged to catch him. But instead of his body, I grabbed the perfume bottle in his hand.

He hit the floor with a groan, and I collapsed right on top of him.

For a moment, the world went still. His breath warmed my face, his eyes locked on mine. Something in my chest thudded painfully—too human, too alive.

I pulled back quickly, but his hand had already brushed against mine. He cleared his throat roughly.

“Get off me.”

“Are your muscles very tense, Master?” I asked softly.

“I ache all over because of you!” he barked, but his voice cracked. “ why did you save a bottle of perfume instead of your master—a human?”

“Because you said it cost a lot,” I said

Later, as I massaged his shoulders, he kept glancing at me, testing, questioning. Finally, he pulled out a cat mask.

“Who am I, T–3?”

“You’re my Master,” I said steadily. But when he put the mask back on, I hesitated. “Oh… you’re a cat now.”

He laughed, delighted. “Twenty points. You make me laugh, I reward you.”

Then his hand reached up, brushing through my hair with unexpected gentleness.

“I hope you’ll always recognize me. No matter how I change. And if you donthen I promise to cherish you.”

My heart skipped. “Cherish me?” I shouted. His voice was tender, but it felt more like I was being trained like a pet.

He smiled slowly, but his eyes never left mine. “Strange. For a robot… You sound almost human when you talk like that.”

I forced a little laugh, trying to cover the slip. My pulse wouldn’t slow down.

He stood and stretched. “I’m hungry.”

“Shall I order food, Master?” I offered quickly.

His expression hardened. “No. I can’t eat what others make. Who knows what they put inside?”

He moved into the kitchen, rolling up his sleeves. I stayed back, pretending indifference, but I couldn’t take my eyes off him as he chopped, stirred, and plated. The sizzling filled the silence, and soon the air was heavy with the savory scent of stir-fried rice cake.

My mouth watered. I swallowed hard, hoping he didn’t notice.

When he set the dish down, I blurted, “My gosh, it looks and smells delicious. This… this is the ultimate way to cook stir-fried rice cake.”

His brow arched. “What was that?”

My stomach dropped. “I meant—it looks impressive.”

A small smile curved his lips. “Aren’t I impressive?”

“Yes, Master,” I said, forcing a robotic smile.

He tasted the first bite himself. I couldn’t help staring at the way he chewed, how satisfied he looked.

“If you were human,” he said suddenly, voice quiet but cutting, “I’d eat with you. This is sad.”

Shut up, I thought bitterly. I feel sadder than you. I need to finish this mission fast—before this torture breaks me.

Aloud, I said lightly, “I’ll make the perfect atmosphere for you to enjoy your meal.”

I moved to the console and turned on soft background music. He smirked. “You’re finally doing your job as a robot.”

But I wasn’t finished. I switched the song to something else, something tied to the program Victor had canceled, the one about the heart’s lamp bulb.

“Master,” I said carefully, “this program… it could have helped others. It wasn’t useless.”

His chopsticks paused mid-air.

I pressed on, the words tumbling before I could stop them. “People—humans are moved by warmth, by connection. That’s how we share meaning. Even if you call it inefficient, it matters. Don’t you think?”

For a long moment, he just stared at me, his expression unreadable.

Then he set his chopsticks down, leaning back slowly. “You talk too much,” he said flatly. “And no program can change what you are.”

But his eyes… His eyes told a different story.

And that terrified me more than anything.