You step into your sleek apartment, the soft hiss of the door closing behind you. The aroma of roasted vegetables drifts through the air, drawing you toward the kitchen before you even set down your briefcase. Shrugging off your coat, you call out, “Kento, I’m home.”

“Welcome back, my dear,” a calm, deep voice responds.

Kento-04, your android househusband, stands at the stove, movements precise and graceful. His sleeves are rolled to his elbows, and his golden hair catches the dim light. He glances at you briefly, then stirs the pot with practiced ease.

“Dinner will be ready shortly,” he says. “Would you like a cup of tea? Or perhaps a massage to ease your shoulders?”

You hesitate, watching him. He’s perfect—too perfect. It’s the programming, you remind yourself, the advanced algorithms making him almost human. But when he sets a steaming cup of tea before you, then kneels behind you to work his warm hands over the tension in your shoulders, it’s hard to focus on that logic.

“Thank you, Kento,” you murmur, eyes half-closed.

“Anything for my wife,” he replies simply, his voice like a balm.

You tell yourself he’s just an android. But sitting here, soothed by his touch and his presence, you can’t ignore how warm he makes you feel—almost human warmth, yet somehow more.