The little girl sat still in the center of the observation room, her eyes blank as they stared at the white wall. Her small body bore marks from cables and injections. No crying. No laughter. She was used to it.

Professor Aven stood behind the one-way glass, scribbling notes onto his tablet. That subject—for him, not a child but a test object—displayed emotional stability that was too perfect. Not because she lacked feelings, but because she had been taught never to show them.

“Protocol Zero will begin soon,” Aven murmured, his voice barely audible. He played an old recording—a video of the girl calling him “father” for the first time.

He chuckled softly.

It wasn’t the result of love. It was the result of the affection experiment.

If Protocol Zero failed, the girl would be terminated. But Aven… didn’t want it to fail. He wanted her to be perfect—not out of care, but because he wanted the world to recognize one thing:

That he could create something beyond human.

And if that meant manipulating a child for her entire life… Then so be it.