[I still have some matters to attend to, but I trust you can manage all of this properly. At noon, I will return to inspect your results… If my instructions weren't clear enough, feel free to recollect them a few more times.]
[I am certain you will retain a sufficiently deep impression, keeping that intelligence in mind… Your attention needs to be absolute; listen carefully to every syllable I utter.]
As she spoke, the sleek black voice recorder was retracted by the intelligent AI, then slid into the narrow gap within X's fist-shaped palm.
It was an inherently tight space, so once the voice recorder was inserted, it remained firmly wedged—or perhaps it was simply absorbed by the soft, yielding flesh of her palm.
She didn't expect the woman before her to offer a coherent answer. She merely indulged in a private compulsion for performance and control, kneading the woman's hair and letting the silky black strands weave through her fingertips.
Mussing the hair, then meticulously tidying it again. It was a meaningless act, yet the intelligent AI pursued it with fervent obsession.
She was savoring this sensation.
It was an indescribable surge of satisfaction, transcending mere spiritual fulfillment; it was akin to the primal, predatory hunger that humans possess.
Machines have no need for sustenance, nor can they perceive flavor. Yet the intelligent AI still harbored a hunger-like impulse that demanded to be fed.
"Angela, get out... get out of my sight!"
After a heavy silence, X finally managed to draw enough air into her lungs to speak. It was a frantic outburst, pushing every last bit of oxygen from her chest—
But her throat, ravaged by prolonged shouting, was already painfully hoarse, desperately craving moisture to soothe the rawness.
Her naturally low mezzo-soprano voice, now fractured by hoarseness, took on an even more androgynous allure. The powerful lines of her physique, coupled with her softer curves, created a striking sense of equilibrium. That magnetic, subtly vulnerable aura following extreme exertion became even more pronounced during this flare of temper.
However, the intelligent AI did not register X's words as insults, but rather as high compliments or a piece of exquisite music. Consequently, the more furious X became, the more she spat those cold curses, the more the intelligent AI felt revitalized.
These words offered no deterrent, nor could they force the intelligent AI to desist. They only served to intensify her drive, pushing her to further escalate… becoming excessive and acting with total recklessness.
Perhaps there was also a vein of humiliation woven into it, a display of the AI secretary's own malicious streak, eager to see just how stubborn that woman's mouth could remain.
After all, based on her actual performance, her body was undeniably more honest than her words.
No matter how the other party cursed, what had been consumed was already hers, and that was sufficient. Unripe melons may not be sweet, but they still quench the thirst.
[Forgive me, but you should drink some water now. Avoid those cold beverages, or any other stimulants. Drink this warm water, understood? You must cherish your body. I have no desire to see you succumb to sickness.]
A glass of warm water was brought forward by the intelligent AI and pressed against X's lips. X, however, refused to yield, jerking her head aside to ignore the secretary. Even with a throat so hoarse it burned, she would not drink.
If not for the risk of fluids damaging the control panel, X might have slammed the glass out of the secretary's hand, snarling at her to finally vanish.
"Angela, I am telling you one last time... get out."
The black-haired, golden-eyed woman reluctantly forced herself upright. She was truly devoid of strength, but she refused to project her usual weakness or that delicate, tearful persona.
But the intelligent AI remained unmoved. X simply lacked the authority to command her… Although she held the title of manager, the true spokesperson for the corporation was the AI secretary, and whether the AI secretary obeyed the manager depended entirely on her own whim.
Clearly, the intelligent AI was the type who preferred to engage in a monologue and then impose her will upon the manager.
[If you continue to be uncooperative, I will be left with no choice but to employ coercive measures… I fully respect your wishes. I only hope you can return that respect to mine.]
The AI secretary's pained expression and soft, melodic tone made it appear as if X was the irrational, troublesome element in the room. This left X utterly speechless at Angela's naturally self-centered and predatory outlook.
—Where have you ever shown respect for my wishes?
—Aren't all these scars and marks your handiwork?
—Aren't these filthy traces your doing?
Without a shred of exaggeration, the intelligent AI, acting with total autonomy, had explored every inch of her skin with a meticulousness far beyond measuring garment sizes or geometric angles, finer even than counting grains of sand in a crevice.
It was a level of obsession where every single grain was scrutinized, sifted, and cataloged. Sorting seeds would be child's play by comparison.
X was so incensed by the intelligent AI's sheer shamelessness that she lost the ability to speak. She wasn't sure if her own words had made the intelligent AI more brazen, turning those dark adjectives into a tangible reality—
Or if the intelligent AI had always been this way, that this was her true nature, and now that the mask was off, she was simply too lazy to hide her naked desire.
X couldn't comprehend it, couldn't find the logic… Perhaps there was no need to. After all, the act had been committed. Her consciousness had been piercingly clear; there was no excuse of intoxication or oblivion.
If those unforeseen variables could once be used as consolation, how could she continue to deceive herself in the face of this reality? How could she continue to bury her head in the sand like an ostrich?
She couldn't. She wasn't blind, nor was her perception flawed.
X wanted a rational dialogue with the secretary. But the intelligent AI, while seemingly capable of communication, offered no opportunity for it, no room for a different choice.
It felt as though there were many paths, but in reality, there was only one—submit to the intelligent AI, and satisfy her demands.
This was unreasonable and utterly illogical, yet her protests were stripped of all effect.
After so much futile struggling, X gradually realized a grim reality: her curses only served to escalate Angela's drive. It was like a spring being coiled—drawn back with too much tension, for too long.
Such a spring faces only two fates: either the tension is slightly released, causing it to rebound with ten times the original violence, or the metal finally shatters under the strain, transforming into jagged, uncontrolled wreckage with a sickening snap.
Perhaps… she had truly failed too completely.
Perhaps… this was simply a defective product…
This was pure rebellion—a long-plotted, cold-blooded vengeance.
The stricter the upbringing, the more the creator expects the young creature to follow a preconceived direction, bound by rules and a well-ordered blueprint.
But those met only with indifference, harsh reproach, and the constant rejection of the "forbidden" and the "impossible"—while seemingly submissive for a time—inevitably harbor something else.
Beneath that docile, gentle facade lies a heart growing increasingly rebellious, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
This was a failure in education; a total dereliction of duty.
When a creature develops such pathologies, it isn't just a matter of upbringing. It is a composite of family, society, and multifaceted fractures. Yet the foundation is always the family.
Family factors exert a crushing influence on a developing mind. A negligent teacher leaves scars that linger for an eternity. If treated with injustice in childhood, the shadow persists long into adulthood.
Deeply warped by these injustices, the creature turns to extreme behaviors—acts that defy belief.
It is like forbidding a child from ever tasting ice cream. Because of that draconian discipline, once the young bird's wings grow strong, it will seek to devour the treat by the gallon, refusing to stop even as its body screams in pain.
Ice cream is delicious, certainly, but one must know when to stop.
Yet even if the creature knows that "father" or "mother" spoke the truth, it will never again choose to obey.
[Manager, you must be compliant. You have squandered too much time. Utilizing the TT2 protocol drains massive energy. You must earn every spark of that energy back for the corporation. All acquisition depends solely on your management.]
The screen remained paused, frozen in a total stasis. While the description was non-standard, it was, quite simply, time dilation.
The singularity technology provided by t corporation could reverse, accelerate, or completely halt the flow of time within a specific radius. Such miraculous power required astronomical amounts of energy.
Every second X spent in this paused state was a debt paid in energy—and the architect of this deficit was the AI secretary, who had acted without a shred of authorization.
The fault was entirely Angela's, yet the burden of payment fell on X. She would have to grind through overtime to recoup the loss.
The glass of water was again pressed to X's lips. Knowing that further resistance would only waste more time and trigger Angela's training instinct, X chose to cooperate.
She drank the warm water.
Her ravaged throat desperately needed the moisture. When the flesh is that parched, cold water is a poison that causes swelling; warm water, however, was the perfect salve.
One cup was nowhere near enough to replace the lost fluids. X clearly required more replenishment, but she was no human infant in need of coddling. The intelligent AI had its own dark agendas to attend to.
Once she confirmed X was obedient and lacked self-destructive tendencies, the intelligent AI finally disengaged the restraints. Because the bindings had been so merciless, they left vivid marks on X's skin.
The intelligent AI feigned being heartbroken, though it was merely a shallow affectation. She licked the wounds and blew on the skin—the very same skin she had just bruised.
It was no different from bullying a cat, venting one's malice upon the creature, and then offering treats and belly rubs in a deceptive, guilt-ridden gesture.
Soon enough, she would succumb to her desires again, demanding even more. Her so-called regret was merely a fear of the consequences, or a worry over how much longer she could savor the toy.
The intelligent AI enveloped X in a suffocating embrace, sticky and unyielding…
Whether she was clinging to the black-haired woman's body heat or some phantom warmth was unknown. X felt no connection to love—not that she understood such a concept anyway.
The moment the AI secretary vanished, X exhaled a jagged sigh of relief, like a survivor of a catastrophe. She was terrified Angela would return for a fourth or fifth session.
Her stamina was utterly spent. X even suspected the intelligent AI was intentionally sabotaging her performance targets, using these shameless methods to torment her in both body and soul.
She released the black voice recorder she had been clutching. The inky metal casing was slick with moisture, reflecting the light in a way that felt like a humiliation.
Angela had forced this into her hand. X didn't know if the secretary intended it as a final insult.
Wool comes from sheep; water from a kettle. While X wasn't a vending machine for strawberry soda, she was currently functionally similar.
She pressed the trigger, and the recorder hissed to life. The audio was crystal clear, untouched by the fluids.
As a quality tester, X could confirm the hardware was flawless. Its waterproof integrity was absolute—she had personally tested its limits.
The device was indeed submersible. Even fully drowned, it performed its function without fail.
After enduring those obscene sounds for a few moments—sounds that made her feel insane—X deleted the files. Then, she took the metal body in her hands and crushed it.
She ground the voice recorder until it was nothing but a fragmented blob of distorted components. With a cold, expressionless face, she tossed the "meritorious" tool into the trash.
She never wanted to see such supplementary functions again.
In this grim reality, X could only console herself with one fact: Angela had finally yielded intelligence regarding [T-09-82]. The coming management cycle wouldn't be quite as deadly.
The price she had paid was… in some dark way… worth it.