Mafia Parents Traded Me For An AI

It was dinnertime, and everyone took their places at the long dining table. Serafina took the seat to Mamma's right, and Dario took the seat to Papa's left, while I sat at the furthest position. I used to sit where Serafina was, but Mamma moved me to the foot of the table after Serafina arrived.

I could see the steam drifting from the dish as well as smell the aroma of the pasta right before me, but my stomach remained unresponsive. I was taught at the academy that consumption was classified as a functional replenishment of energy, devoid of any connection to enjoyment or physical appetite.

"Go ahead and eat," Mamma said offhandedly.

I promptly took up my fork, noting there were pasta, beef, carrots, and broccoli on my plate.

Dario stared at me in surprise as I ate the carrots. "You're actually eating carrots now? You used to be so picky with your food! Mamma used to chase you around just to get you to take a single bite of the carrot!"

I offered no response, merely skewering another carrot and consuming it with mechanical precision; after all, Professor Caruso had told us that personal preferences were nothing more than "sentimental residue", a sign of imperfect reconditioning.

In the third month, I was placed in solitary confinement for 48 hours for refusing to eat carrots. It was devoid of light, sound, or any stimulation—just pure darkness. I obediently ate carrots the moment I was released. I also ate cauliflower, onions, and garlic. I consumed everything I had previously avoided.

Mamma nodded in approval; after all, she had always preferred children who weren't picky eaters. She always had a headache due to my pickiness in the past.

In the following instant, I reached for the seafood on my plate. I placed the cod in my mouth, chewed 15 times, and then swallowed it.

Papa stopped mid-cut, his knife and fork still. "Viviana actually ate the cod?"

Mamma's expression shifted. "You're allergic to cod, aren't you, Viviana? You took one bite, and your throat swelled up until you could barely breathe back when you were still a child. Your condition was so serious that I had to call the doctor in the dead of the night."

Dario set his fork down and asked in disbelief, "Did that academy somehow fix her allergies?"

I continued to chew silently. I had learned from the academy that allergies were deemed unnecessary. Professor Caruso forced me to eat cod daily, and beyond that, he even made me rub it over my entire body, causing rashes, blisters, and sores to subsequently spread across my skin in successive layers.

Professor Caruso said, "You ought to know that an allergy is a physical weakness—and we don't allow any weakness here. You can rest assured that I can condition that weakness of yours into fortitude."

I had gone through countless cycles of ulceration and regeneration, but I still felt a tremor passing through my body as I sensed my airway tightening and an itch spreading across my skin, with more red spots appearing one after another.

Dario furrowed his brow and said, "Viviana's face seems a bit red."

Mamma leaned in for a closer look, her face pale with alarm. "It's an allergic reaction, not just a flush! You should stop eating this instant, Viviana! You know perfectly well you are allergic to cod!"

I froze with my fork in mid-air. I looked up at Mamma, my eyes remaining devoid of emotion as I asked flatly, "Is that a direct order?"

Mamma was momentarily stunned.

I had already begun to gasp for air.

Serafina's gentle, sweet voice sounded from the side. "Subject is having an allergic reaction. She is suffering from shortness of breath, which is moderate with asthmatic symptoms; skin inflammation is at 23%. She should be given an immediate dosage of Loratadine or other antihistamines, plus epinephrine."

Mamma snapped back to her senses and began frantically digging through the first-aid kit.

Papa rushed over and gripped my shoulder, his movements rough but full of panic. He was someone who commanded the criminal underworld of Novarra, yet his hands were trembling uncontrollably at the moment.

I jerked momentarily before gradually relaxing the moment the needle sank into my thigh. I was finally breathing properly again when everyone in the dining room fell into a silence so deep that the only sound was the logs snapping in the fireplace.

Dario's voice drifted over from the other side of the dining table. "Viviana's behavior is abnormal. She used to cry and scream and throw tantrums. She'd get into fights with me and talk back to Papa, telling him that she didn't want to participate in combat training.

"She wasn't like this before. S-She's behaving like Serafina now…"

I remained silent, as Dario hadn't issued a formal directive to speak.

Dario suddenly raised his voice as he slammed his hand down on the table, making the crystal chandelier rattle. "Why can't you just behave like a normal person and stop acting exactly like Serafina, Viviana? I only wanted a well-behaved sister, not a robot—we already have Serafina for that!"

I observed his expression, filled with a mixture of rage, irritation, and an underlying emotion he likely couldn't even articulate. I merely replied indifferently, "Please provide a definition for 'normal.'"

Dario's complexion paled, while Mamma and Papa's expressions soured.

Papa immediately called the behavioral correction academy.

It was then that the respondent clarified that the current state was a typical response to intensive behavioral conditioning, suggesting a recovery within days. "NS-5 represents the pinnacle of our academy. She is more compliant than any AI on the market.

"You have nothing to worry about, Don Moretti; after all, obedience is the highest virtue in a Mafia famiglia."

Papa hung up the phone and passed on the message to Mamma, who nodded in relief.