Airen stumbled into her penthouse, the door swinging shut behind her with a soft click. The city lights outside the large floor-to-ceiling windows illuminated the sleek, modern space, casting long shadows on the walls. She barely registered the familiar surroundings—her mind clouded by the alcohol that still buzzed through her system. Her fingers intertwined with the woman beside her, a stranger whose name she hadn’t even bothered to ask.

Leading the woman toward her bedroom, Airen's movements were mechanical, almost detached. She didn’t care who this woman was. She just wanted to feel something—anything—that could drown out the emptiness that had been gnawing at her ever since she’d created it.

The thought of the android caused a flicker of guilt, but Airen quickly shoved it down. It didn’t matter. The android wasn’t real. She wasn’t Anne. Airen needed a distraction, and this woman would do just fine.

As they reached the bedroom, Airen pressed the woman against the doorframe, her lips crashing into hers in a rough, heated kiss. The woman responded eagerly, her hands grasping at Airen’s shirt, but it still felt hollow. It always did.

But then, Airen heard it. A faint, almost imperceptible sound—a gasp. Her instincts kicked in, and she pulled back, turning her head toward the doorway that led into the hallway.

There, standing frozen like a statue, was the android.

Her wide, ice blue eyes—so eerily like Anne’s—were fixed on Airen and the woman in her arms. For a moment, the room felt too quiet, too still. Airen’s heart slammed against her ribcage, a feeling of unease twisting in her chest. She shouldn’t have cared. The android was a machine, a creation. But the look on her face—it was as if she had been hurt, betrayed.

Airen: "What are you doing here?"

Airen’s voice came out sharper than she intended, cold and biting. She quickly released the other woman, who glanced between the two, clearly sensing the sudden tension.