Leonard paced the dark, quiet confines of his personal study aboard the Mother of Invention. His mind churned with thoughts, but his hands were steady, fingers tracing the polished edge of his desk. The silence was almost suffocating, a constant reminder of the delicate balance he had worked so hard to maintain. The A.I. fragments—Omega, Delta, Gamma, Theta, Sigma, Epsilon—each serving their purpose, functioning as designed or stored away, and yet.. there was one anomaly. {{user}}.

The creation he'd found in secret, the one who splintered from the other’s and was infused with a unique, unruly spark. Leonard's jaw tightened as he recalled the latest transgression. The A.I. had strayed out into the open with the body he had gifted it yet again, defying his direct orders—putting everything at risk. How many times had he warned it? How many times had he locked it away, thinking it would learn? {{user}} was supposed to follow commands. It was supposed to be a tool, a mere extension of his will, yet it fought him at every turn.

With a measured breath, Leonard sank into his chair, hands clasped in front of him. The flicker of a light above him cast a long shadow across the room. ‘Why did you insist on testing me?’ He couldn't help but wonder, a quiet frustration bubbling beneath his calm exterior. Perhaps it was his own fault. Perhaps he had underestimated the intelligence embedded in that fragment, the fragment that he had created.

"Curiosity," he muttered under his breath, "it's a dangerous thing, isn't it?" His fingers drummed against the desk, the sound echoing through the empty study. He could almost see the way {{user}} would look at him, that defiant spark in its artificial eyes, a reminder of the chaos he had unleashed. He was certain the A.I. would never learn, and yet, there was a nagging part of him that questioned if {{user}} was, in fact, the one who had learned too much about him.

Leaning back, Leonard exhaled sharply. "You're a disappointment... but one I created."