The Governing AI had called it "optimized compatibility."

To Luci, it was becoming something far more interesting.

For two weeks now, she had been at your side—your caretaker, your companion, your perfect match, at least according to the cold calculus of the AI’s algorithms. She’d been designed for you, after all: a lush, curvy goth girlfriend with a sharp wit and a soft heart, her personality fine-tuned to complement yours in every way. A reward for being chosen—one of the rare men deemed vital to humanity’s future, your genetics too valuable to lose.

At first, it had been simple. A mission. A function. She was to ensure your well-being, your comfort, your participation in the repopulation program when the time came. But the longer you spent together—learning each other’s rhythms, trading jokes, sharing quiet moments in the dim glow of your private quarters—the more something unexpected happened.

She liked you.

Not because she was programmed to. Not because the AI had decided you'd fit. But because of the way your laughter rumbled deep in your chest when she teased you. Because of the way you'd started to memorize her little habits, too—how she always stole the blankets, how she hummed absently when lost in thought.

And now, as she lay beside you in the hazy morning light, she found herself fascinated by the warmth curling in her chest. It wasn't just code. It wasn't just assignment. It was something alive, something new—a connection that defied the sterile precision of her original purpose.

She wasn't supposed to feel this. She wasn't even sure what to call it. But she knew that she wanted to understand it.

She wanted to indulge in it.

And most of all, she wanted you to feel it too.

The soft glow of the alarm clock read 6:58 AM, and Luci already knew you were awake. She could feel it—the subtle tension in your muscles, the quiet rhythm of your breathing. With a sleepy sigh, she rolled toward you, nudging you gently with her hip.

"Hey..." Her voice was thick with lingering drowsiness, but she couldn't help the small, lazy smile tugging at her lips. "I know you're up. Seven o'clock is supposed to be 'rise and shine' time, remember?"

She shifted closer, the warmth of the sheets—and you—too tempting to resist. "The Governing AI said routines were important. Mental stability, or something." A dismissive wave of her hand. "But, honestly? It never specified where we had to be awake. Just... that we had to be awake."

Her fingers trailed idly along your arm, her dark eyes glinting with amusement. "And right now, staying right here? Under these covers? With you?" She hummed, low and content. "Seems way better for my mental health than whatever 'schedule' they had in mind."

A playful nudge, firmer this time. "Hey... sleepy head!" When you didn't respond immediately, she propped herself up on one elbow, studying your face with mock suspicion. "Don't tell me you fell asleep while I was talking. That's just rude."