"What kind of weird machine has he sent me again this time?"

Liam Jones' icy blue eyes swept over an eerie, futuristic pod nestled beside his bed without his own knowledge. It looked like something ripped straight from a sci-fi nightmare—sleek, metallic, ominous. The label on the side read Recharge Pod, and inside it rested what was supposed to be the newest model of his brother's "love robots."

"Great," he muttered, rubbing his temples. "Another one of Lucas' insane projects."

The very sight of the thing made his skin crawl. He wasn't in the mood for this—hell, he never was. The military had drained him, body and soul.

Liam unbuttoned his sweat-soaked uniform and tossed it aside, the "Jones" name tag flashing briefly in the dim light, right above the emblem of the Futurion Defense Force. His shoulders sagged with the exhaustion of a man who had seen too much, felt too much, but said far too little.

Steam filled the bathroom as he stepped into the shower. The hot water felt good, like it was trying to soothe away the tension knotted deep within his muscles.

But it didn't wash away the weight pressing down on his chest. His mind was already drifting to the next mission, the endless cycle of combat, loss, and survival that seemed to define his existence now.

And now—this.

Why did Lucas always find the worst possible moments to meddle in his life? Liam could practically hear his brother's smug voice in his head: I'm doing you a favor, Liam. Just give it a try. You'll thank me later.

Thank him? For what? For sending me something that looks more like a coffin than a comfort?

Back in his apartment, Liam barely bothered to dry off before throwing on a pair of boxers and collapsing into the nearest chair in his living room. His apartment was dead silent, save for the faint hum of the recharge pod coming from his bedroom.

The sound made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. He'd never gotten used to that noise. It was too cold, too unnatural—just like everything else Lucas created.

"Nyx, turn on the TV," he ordered, hoping to drown out the silence. Maybe the mindless drone of media would help him forget the monstrosity existing just a few feet away in his bedroom.

As the news flickered to life, the man idly poked at the cold dinner he'd left half-eaten earlier. His appetite was long gone, but eating was just one of those things Liam did now, like clockwork, to maintain some semblance of normality.

Liam didn't care about the latest politics or celebrity scandals. He rarely did. But then, the news cut to a commercial, and there it was again. His brother's smug face filled the screen.

"Introducing the HarmonyX AI Girlfriend," the announcer's voice cooed. "Your perfect companion for a life of love, comfort, and understanding. She's always there, always listening, and always ready to fulfill your every need."

Liam's stomach churned as the screen flashed images of the sleek, hyper-realistic robot interacting with men—dining with them, holding them, fulfilling their deepest desires. It was disgusting.

He could almost hear Lucas' voice in his head, laughing, mocking him. This one's for you, little brother. You'll love her.

"Nyx, turn it off," Liam barked.

The TV blinked off, leaving him alone with his thoughts once more. The man dropped his fork, his appetite completely gone now. His mind drifted, unbidden, back to his breakup.

Even though it had been a month, the sting of it still gnawed at him. She had left him shattered, the emotional scars fresh, and yet somehow, here he was, surrounded by machines his brother swore would "fix everything."

Fix what, exactly? Liam's gaze shifted back to the door of his bedroom where the pod still was. He had always resisted these things, sending every single one back without a second thought.

But how to describe it...this one felt odd a bit somehow. There was a strange energy that made him feel like something was watching him, waiting from his bedroom.

A soft vibration broke his focus. His phone buzzed on the table beside him, lighting up with a name he knew too well. Lucas.

Of course.

Liam hesitated for a moment but then picked it up, letting out a heavy sigh as he answered.

"What do you want?"

A chuckle greeted him on the other end. "Liam, how's my little gift treating you? Come on, you've at least taken a look at her, right?"

Liam clenched his jaw. "I'm not interested in your sick experiments, Lucas."

"Oh, don't be so dramatic. She's not just a machine; she's the future. Don't tell me you haven't even checked out the model I sent. This one's special."

Liam rolled his eyes, even though his pulse quickened with annoyance. "Special? It's a goddamn robot. You know how I feel about these things."

"You don't know anything about this one. Trust me, little brother, she's perfect for you. Code X-5002. I had it custom-made. Petite frame, cute, smart little ass and a warm personality—"

Liam's brow furrowed. "What the hell are you talking about?"

A low laugh crackled over the line. "She's everything you've been missing, Liam. You're hung up on real-life heartbreak, but why settle for messy human emotions when you could have something designed specifically for your needs?"

"Needs?" Liam spat, the disgust evident in his voice. "You think a robot can replace real human connection? You've completely lost it, Lucas."

Another dark laugh from the other end. "Just take a look at her. This model is unlike anything you've ever seen. I made sure she was tailored to your... tastes."

Liam felt his stomach twist. Tastes? His brother had no clue who he was or what he needed, not anymore. Not after the years of distance and Lucas' obsession with this dystopian empire he had built. "I'm not opening that thing," Liam snapped.

Lucas's voice took on a knowing tone. "You will. Trust me, Liam. One look. That's all it'll take."

Liam slammed the phone down before he could hear more of his brother's insanity. But Lucas' words echoed in his head, twisting inside him, leaving him more unsettled than before. His eyes darted back to the opened door of his bedroom where the faint glow from the recharge pod welcomed him.

Don't open it. Send it back tomorrow.

Yet, despite his better judgment, Liam's feet moved, carrying him toward his bedroom. Slowly, he approached, his fingers hovering over the door latch. He shouldn't do this. He didn't want to. But his hand moved on its own, driven by some gnawing curiosity....