My parents have adopted an AI son called Adam. On the day he gets adopted, I get viewed by my family as a nuisance, for some reason.

Dad hates how mischievous and cheeky I am. Mom thinks I'm inferior to Adam in every way.

My older sister, Sapphire Griffin, even shouts at me. "What else are you capable of doing other than fighting with me over everything?"

I feel like crying because the family has turned against me. So, I shove Adam to the floor out of rage.

Mom's expression darkens instantly. She then slaps me in the face with all the strength she can muster.

"Adam is your little brother! Oh, if only you're just as obedient and understanding as he is! I wouldn't have a building headache because of you!

"Well, I want you to study at Elite Smart Academy and learn how to become a docile son!"

I'm forced into an exchange program with Adam. That's how I begin studying at Elite Smart Academy.

Three years later, my parents and Sapphire pick me up from the academy. When they call out to me, I don't move an inch at all.

The director, Bruce Harrison, says with a smile, "Mr. Griffin, you need to say 'Power on, Unit 1314' for it to boot up."

"Power on, Unit 1314," Dad said.

As he gave the command, his tone wavered with hesitation. He wasn't entirely sure why he was saying it. He was just repeating what Bruce Harrison, the director of Elite Smart Academy, had told him to say.

My eyes lit up instantly, like a screen on standby finally receiving a signal.

I rose from my chair. My arms hung naturally at my sides, and my spine was perfectly straight.

"System booted. Please state your command," I said mechanically.

Dad froze at my words.

Behind him, Bruce's voice rang out. "Mr. Griffin, in order to provide the best behavioral conditioning for our students, our academy has developed a specialized system."

He smiled and continued, "Students require an activation command to be awakened. Once that command is in place, they'll never defy a single wish of yours again."

After Bruce's explanation, it finally clicked for Dad.

My older sister, Sapphire Griffin, pushed her way to the front. There was a mischievous glint in her eyes.

She was five years my senior, and she had spent the better part of our childhood treating my tears like her personal entertainment.

Back then, whenever one of her pranks hit its mark, I would chase her all over the house until Mom finally stepped in and chewed us both out.

"Unit 1314, bark like a dog," she commanded.

The moment the command registered, I tucked in my chin, stuck out my tongue, and began barking loudly.

Sapphire doubled over with laughter, turning to Mom and Dad. "Dexter really learned his lesson this time! Remember how he used to drag his feet for half an hour every time we told him to practice his handwriting? Now look at him—he barks like a dog without a single complaint."

Mom and Dad both nodded. Their eyes gleamed with satisfaction at my compliance.

…

On the way home, Dad tried to strike up some casual conversation. "So, Dex, how were these past three years at the academy?"

I didn't answer because he hadn't used the word "answer".

"Dex?"

His voice pitched up.

Finally, I spoke. My voice was as flat and emotionless as a text-to-speech machine. "Questions are not valid commands. If you require a response, please use imperative sentences."

The air inside the car instantly froze.

The words caught in Dad's throat, and it took him a long moment to finally manage to say, "Answer."

"Life in the academy was fulfilling and meaningful for me. I successfully completed three core modules: Emotional Control, Absolute Obedience, and Rational Cognition.

"I cleared my final evaluation with honors. My instructor, Mr. Dylan Scott, named me 'The Most Successful Reform Case of the Year' in light of my final assessment."

I recited the passage word for word without a single hint of inflection. I sounded exactly like someone reading a product manual aloud.

Silence filled the backseat for a long moment.

Sapphire shifted uncomfortably, murmuring under her breath, "Why does he sound exactly like Adam?"

I kept my gaze fixed on the road ahead. My face was a perfect, empty slate.

Outside the window, the city blurred past. The jagged silhouettes of skyscrapers, the looping overpasses, the neon flash of billboards—none of it matched the memories locked away in my head.

Inside the therapeutic boarding academy, time hadn't been measured in years or even days. It had been broken down into a sterile grid of commands. A single day felt no different from a month.

At first, the only way I could track time was by scratching tally marks into the walls of the isolation room.

Eventually, I forgot even how to make the marks.

By the time the car pulled into the driveway, it was already getting dark.

Adam was standing by the front door. His hands were folded with practiced neatness in front of him, and his face was set in a perfect, standardized smile—not a millimeter off, showing exactly six teeth.

It was the same as three years ago.

Back then, Mom had knelt down to talk to him. Her voice had been unbelievably tender. "Welcome home, Adam."

Eager to greet my new little brother, I scrambled off the couch and rushed toward them. However, my foot caught on something, and I wiped out, face-planting onto the floor.

No one came to help me up. They just said I was being too rowdy.

After that, everyone started to dislike me. They constantly pointed out that I wasn't as obedient as Adam, nor as thoughtful as Adam.

In the end, I was sent away to Elite Smart Academy.

"Welcome home, Dexter," Adam said. His voice was as crisp and pleasant as ever.

I didn't reply, since he hadn't given the "answer" command.

Dad frowned. "Do you still resent Adam? I guess you haven't really learned how to behave after all. Speak!"

The moment the command was triggered, a smile instantly broke across my face.

"Command received," I said, turning to Adam. "Thank you."

Adam's smile didn't waver, and Dad nodded in satisfaction.

At dinnertime, the family gathered around the dining table. Adam took his place to Dad's right, Sapphire sat at Mom's left, and I was relegated to the very edge of the table.

Steam drifted up from my bowl, carrying the rich, savory aroma of spaghetti, but my stomach didn't even stir.

Inside the academy, eating wasn't about pleasure or hunger. It was simply defined as a "nutrient replenishment protocol".

"Let's eat," Mom said casually.

The command triggered an instant reaction. I picked up my fork without a second of hesitation and began consuming whatever was placed in front of me: spaghetti, roasted turkey, and chunks of green bell pepper.

When Sapphire saw me eat the bell peppers, her eyes widened in disbelief. "Well, that's a first. Since when do you eat bell peppers? Weren't you the pickiest eater alive?"

I didn't answer and simply picked up another piece of bell pepper.

Dylan had taught us that personal preferences were nothing but "emotional residue"—a pathetic symptom of incomplete reformation.

During my third month there, I had stubbornly refused to eat bell peppers. As punishment, I was locked inside the isolation room for two full days.

No light. No sound. No stimulation whatsoever.

Nothing but a suffocating, absolute darkness that felt like it was swallowing me alive.

When I finally left the isolation room, I gave in and ate the bell peppers, followed by the carrots, onions, and bitter melon. I ate every single thing I used to despise.

Dad nodded approvingly. He had always loved a compliant child who wasn't picky.

In the next second, I reached for a peanut from the dish.

I put it into my mouth, chewed exactly 15 times, and swallowed.

Mom's eyes went wide. "Did he just eat a peanut?"

She gasped. "Isn't Dex severely allergic to peanuts? When he was little, he ate just one, and his lips swelled up like sausages. We had to rush him to the ER!"

Sapphire set her fork down. Her voice was laced with disbelief. "Can that academy cure allergies too?"

I chewed in silence, offering no response.

Inside the academy, human bodies weren't allowed to have allergies.

Dylan had smeared peanut jam directly onto my arm. Redness, blisters, and ulcerations spread across my skin, layer by layer.

"An allergy is just a physical weakness. Weakness can be trained into strength."

My skin rotted and healed, healed and rotted, but the allergic reactions kept happening anyway.

A sudden shiver ran through my entire body. I could feel my throat starting to constrict, and my skin began to itch intensely. One after another, terrifying red hives started flaring up.

Sapphire frowned. "His face looks flushed."

Mom leaned in for a closer look, and the color drained from her face. "That's not a flush. He's having an allergic reaction!"

She shouted at me, "Dex, stop eating that! Don't you know you're allergic to peanuts?"

My fork froze mid-air.

I lifted my head and looked at Mom. My eyes showed no emotional fluctuations, and my voice remained as steady as someone reciting a textbook.

"Is that a command?"

Mom froze in shock, while my breathing grew rapid and shallow.

Beside us, Adam's synthesized voice chimed in. "The patient is exhibiting an allergic reaction. Difficulty breathing is currently classified as moderate. Cutaneous inflammation coverage is approximately 23%. Immediate administration of anti-allergy medication is recommended."

They snapped into action, frantically scrambling to get me my allergy medication.

By the time the medication took effect and my breathing finally stabilized, a heavy, suffocating silence had fallen over the living room.

Sapphire's voice drifted over from the couch. "Something is wrong with him. The old Dexter used to cry, scream, and throw tantrums. He wasn't like this. He's acting just like… Adam."

I remained silent, since Sapphire had not yet issued the command for me to speak.

"Can you just act normal?"

Her voice suddenly went sharp. "Stop copying everything Adam does! We just wanted an obedient brother, not a machine!"

I stared at her face. Her features were twisted, caught in a sharp knot of fury and irritation.

I simply replied in a flat tone, "Please define 'normal.'"

The color drained from Sapphire's face. Across the room, Mom and Dad's expressions turned grim too.

Dad pulled out his phone and dialed the academy.

The administrator who picked up explained that this was just a standard residual reaction to "Deep Behavioral Conditioning" and that it would wear off in a few days.

He promised, "Rest assured, Unit 1314 is currently our most outstanding graduate. He understands the mechanics of obedience better than any AI on the market. This is all completely within parameters."

Dad hung up the phone and relayed the exact words to Mom.

Mom nodded, and they both let out a sigh of relief.

In the days that followed, I became the most useful tool in the household.

When Mom told me to wash the dishes, I scrubbed them cleaner than Adam ever could.

When Dad told me to move the heavy planters, I cleared the entire yard all by myself.

When Sapphire told me to grab her deliveries, I ran faster than a dog chasing a bone.

Mom smiled and said, "Honestly, Dex is even more useful than Adam now."

Everyone agreed.

Then, one night, Sapphire forgot to issue my shutdown command.

As the rest of the family went upstairs and drifted off to sleep, I remained on the living room couch. I simply sat there, motionless, from dusk until dawn.

When Mom came downstairs the next morning and saw me still sitting there, in the same posture as the night before, her face went pale.

Her mug slipped from her hand, shattering into pieces across the floor.

…

A woman wearing a white lab coat arrived at the house.

She introduced herself as Dr. Young, a psychologist, and her voice was gentle.

"Hello, Dex."

I didn't reply.

Standing beside her, Mom wrung her hands anxiously. "You have to give him a command, or he won't talk."

Dr. Young glanced at Mom. Her brow furrowed.

"Please tell me your name," Dr. Young said, phrasing it as a command.

"Unit 1314."

The tip of Dr. Young's pen paused over her notepad. "What about your real name?"

"Dexter Griffin. However, that is a legacy identifier. Academy regulations stipulate that alumni must utilize their designated unit numbers as their official form of address."

Dr. Young froze at my words.

A heavy gloom settled over the whole family. They retreated into the study, whispering terms I didn't recognize.

"Post-traumatic stress disorder… depersonalization… requires long-term therapy…"

In the days that followed, the atmosphere in the house became incredibly tense. Everyone started walking on eggshells around me.

On Adam's birthday, they came to a difficult decision. They were going to send Adam away.

So, this would be the last birthday they ever celebrated with him.

The living room was filled with balloons, and a two-tiered cake sat on the table.

Adam walked over to me. His demeanor was as gentle as always. "Dexter, happy birthday."

I blinked. Somewhere deep inside my brain, a tightly wound string seemed to loosen just a fraction.

Today was my birthday, too.

However, no one remembered.

Three years ago today, I was shoved into the back of a car and shipped off to that academy.

Before they took me away, I had begged Mom through my tears, asking if I could at least have a slice of my birthday cake first.

Mom had said, "You can have some when you learn how to be good and come back home."

I had learned how to be good, but I still hadn't gotten any cake.

Adam suddenly smiled and said, "Dexter, the definition of 'normal' is pushing down the people you dislike. Go ahead and push me. Just like you did three years ago."

I stared at his face. Something seemed to be flickering deep within his eyes, and his standard smile had vanished.

However, he had just given me a definition for "normal".

I placed my hands on his shoulders. Before I could even push, he collapsed backward.

At that exact moment, the living room door swung open.

Sapphire stood in the doorway holding a platter of fruit. She screamed at me in a blind fury. "Dexter! What the hell are you doing?"