The laboratory was quiet—too quiet. Behind steel doors, the little girl lived alone, accompanied only by the sound of ticking clocks and the footsteps of shifting guards.

Since birth, she had never known the outside world. "My world," she once said, "is just glass, books, and the voice from the speaker that says my name."

Professor Riven was the only one who ever entered her room directly. Dressed in a dark coat, with neatly combed hair and eyes that never truly smiled. He came with storybooks, educational toys, and comforting words.

Each week, Riven taught her something new. About logic. About emotions. About sacrifice. But everything had a purpose. Every word, every test… wasn’t education—it was programming.

The girl adored him. She called him “father.” And Riven never corrected her.

Because he knew—if that attachment ran deep enough… Then when the time came, a single command would be enough to activate everything he had planted.

She would do anything. Without question.