Lobotomy Corporation, Manager's Office.
"I am your secretary, the AI—Angela."
X turned his head. The blue-haired girl who had introduced herself as Angela was already standing beside his workstation, hands neatly clasped in front of her as she waited.
From the look of it, she had been waiting for him for quite some time.
Angela's voice was steady and gentle—precise like a calibrated instrument—like she was repeating an opening line she had delivered to countless Managers, thousands upon thousands of times.
A perfectly measured smile rested on her lips: neither overly enthusiastic nor cold.
"Although I am only an AI, I will be happy to answer any questions you have."
When she saw that X's eyes had finally settled on her, she paused—leaving him a moment to process.
"Mm. I know what you're thinking."
Angela continued.
"'The girl in front of me is actually an artificial intelligence?' That's what it is, right?"
There was a faint note of knowing in her tone, as though she could see straight through people—almost as if she had already pictured the man's impressed expression a few moments later.
But X's heart skipped a beat.
No. That wasn't what he was thinking at all.
His gaze drifted uncontrollably to her hands—folded together, flawless, immaculate.
Those hands…
In some sealed-off corner deep in his mind, something blurred flickered past—an indistinct image, gone before he could grasp it.
The details were already smeared into nothing, leaving only a residue of fear in his nerves—an instinctive warning that the AI in front of him was not "simple."
At times like this, X couldn't help regretting that he hadn't written down whatever scraps of memory remained while he still could.
He forced himself to calm down, crushing that primal dread to the bottom of his chest. Then he squeezed out a stiff smile.
"Actually, not really."
He scratched the back of his head, using the motion to loosen his taut posture so he wouldn't look quite so tense.
"Angela. I can call you Angela, right?"
His tone was gentle as he sought confirmation.
After Angela nodded, he continued:
"The first thing I thought wasn't about you being an AI… I just thought you were very beautiful."
X paused, fixing his eyes on Angela's, watching for any sign of emotional fluctuation.
Only after confirming she didn't seem to react negatively did he dare finish:
"…In practice, the difference between humans and machines isn't all that important, is it?"
"…"
That very first exchange—barely the opening—made the confident smile Angela had worn through countless loops stiffen by the tiniest margin.
This was something she had never encountered in all the cycles she had lived through in Lobotomy Corporation.
Yet her immense processing power—and the emotions honed through millennia of repetition—stabilized her almost immediately.
At least, on the surface.
"You're joking."
Angela's voice returned to its usual steadiness, though the professional smile seemed to fade a shade.
"Compared to humans, I am still very different."
"I was created for Lobotomy Corporation, so I can only exist here. I cannot go wherever I want the way you can."
"Then…"
Following her words, X asked something deeper.
"Do you like it here?"
As he spoke, his palms began to sweat.
X knew it was a gamble. But some instinct told him that treating her like a mere machine might be… more dangerous than letting her show her humanity.
"…"
Angela fell silent at the question.
Why was this Manager so different from all the ones she had met before?
Still, she quickly gathered her thoughts and replied:
"In truth, questions like 'like' or 'dislike' are meaningless for a machine."
Hearing that, X's heart sank.
It was the worst kind of answer—an AI that saw itself as a tool would feel no burden at all when executing certain "programs."
But fortunately, X could sense it: the AI girl before him wasn't truly emotionless.
"But judging from your appearance, your emotions, and the way you think and respond… you're not actually any different from a human, are you?"
X smiled gently, his words carrying earnest insistence.
"If that's the case, then the idea of 'a meaningless question for a machine' is a false premise to begin with."
"At least from where I stand—or rather, in the context of me speaking with you right now—this question is important to you."
"…"
This time, Angela was silent for a long while.
"If you insist on asking…"
After a long pause, she finally—also for the first time since meeting X—opened the golden eyes she had kept half-lidded all this time.
"My answer is yes."
Those golden irises held none of the chill of a program. Instead, they reflected something complex and difficult to name—
Like a deep lake disturbed by a stone that shattered its surface calm.
"As for the Corporation—whether in terms of functionality, meaning of existence, habit, or the feeling of interacting with the people here—I feel no rejection."
A trace of fatigue slipped into Angela's voice, as though she had no desire to linger on the topic.
"Is that satisfactory?"
"Ah…"
X looked at her. He didn't relax just because he had received an affirmative answer; instead, he pinched the bridge of his nose, a headache blooming.
From that perfunctory "Is that satisfactory?" he heard wariness and distance.
"It's not about satisfying me. There's no point in lying to me."
X spoke sincerely.
"I just want to know how you feel… your true thoughts, even if it's only a little."
"Oh. I see…"
As if something clicked, X stared into Angela's now-open eyes—eyes that looked, in their own way, dangerous—and decided to take the final, most perilous step.
Not a rigid superior–subordinate relationship. Not cold obedience and being obeyed…
"Do you think I'm testing you? Your loyalty, or something like that?"
He sighed, lowering his voice and trying to look genuinely regretful.
"I'd still like us to get along like friends, Angela."
"…"
Angela's golden eyes regarded X in calm silence.
"Is that your first order after taking office?"
"Not an order. Just a simple suggestion."
X shook his head almost immediately, his tone carrying a matter-of-fact stubbornness.
"You can't use an order to create a friendship, Angela. What meaning would that kind of relationship even have?"
"…"
Seeing that X didn't seem to be joking, Angela fell silent again.
Three silences on the first day alone… was it?
"…I understand."
Angela nodded.
"If you truly feel that way, then I should respond with the same attitude."
"Good."
Only then did a clear, heartfelt smile appear on X's face.
It wasn't relief born of satisfaction—more like a brief loosening after surviving a close call.
He had won the first bet.
"Then please take care of me from now on, Angela."
He pressed down the faint tremor in his arm muscles from tension and extended his right hand naturally toward her.
The gesture was like offering an olive branch in the center of a minefield—dangerous, but with the hope of peace.
Looking at the outstretched hand, Angela felt something faintly stirring.
This Manager might… truly introduce a different "variable" into this endless loop.
Perhaps even change the direction of the entire cycle.
With that thought, Angela's lips curved slightly.
She hesitated no longer. She extended her own hand—perfectly formed, pale—and gently clasped the hand offering goodwill and sincerity.
"And from now on, please take care of me as well, X."
"…"
When Angela showed no violent reaction of any sort, X quietly exhaled in relief.
A way of coexisting through goodwill—effective, for now.
-------
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