Replaced by AI

By the time the car pulled into the driveway, the sky was already growing dark.

Maddison stood waiting at the front door with her hands neatly folded in front of her. A perfect smile rested on her lips; it was precisely measured, revealing exactly six teeth. She looked exactly the same as she had three years ago.

Back then, Mom had crouched down in front of her, her voice impossibly gentle. "Maddison, welcome home."

I’d jumped off the couch and rushed over, excited to meet my new little sister, then something had caught my foot, and I hit the floor hard.

Nobody helped me up. They only complained that I was being too rowdy again.

After that, everyone eventually started disliking me. I wasn’t as obedient, thoughtful, or lovable as Maddison.

Finally, they sent me away.

"Welcome home, Lola." Maddison’s voice was still sweet and pleasant.

I didn’t answer since she hadn’t instructed me to respond.

Mom frowned immediately. "You still don’t like Maddison? Clearly, you still haven’t learned how to behave. Answer her."

The command registered, so I instantly smiled. "Understood. Thank you."

Maddison’s expression didn’t change, but Mom nodded in satisfaction.

At dinner, the entire family gathered around the table. Maddison sat to Mom’s right while Bailey sat beside Dad. I sat at the far end.

Steam curled from the dishes, the scent drifting through the air, but my stomach felt nothing at all. At the academy, eating was classified as an energy replenishment behavior. It had nothing to do with pleasure or hunger.

"Go ahead and eat," Mom said casually.

I immediately picked up my cutlery and ate.

Bailey stared at me in disbelief when he saw what I was eating. "No way. You actually eat green peppers now? You used to be the pickiest eater alive."

Without responding, I simply picked up another bite of peppers.

The instructors taught us that personal tastes were merely emotional residue—proof of a correction that hadn't yet been fully realized.

During my third month at the academy, I refused to eat green peppers. As a result, they locked me inside the silence chamber for two full days. Within that total darkness, stripped of all light, sound, and stimulation, I learned the cost of defiance.

After I emerged, I ate the peppers, then carrots, onions, and bittergourd. I swallowed everything I had once despised without a second thought.

Mom nodded approvingly. She always liked children who weren’t picky.

I reached for the chopped peanuts in the salad, placing one in my mouth. I chewed exactly fifteen times before swallowing.

Dad’s eyes widened instantly. "She ate peanuts? Wasn’t Lola severely allergic? When she was little, a single peanut sent her to the ER. Her lips swelled up like balloons."

Bailey slowly lowered his fork, stunned. "The academy can cure allergies, too?"

I continued chewing silently. At the academy, humans weren’t allowed to have allergies.

I remembered an instructor smearing peanut butter across my skin. Layer after layer of rashes broke out—swelling, blisters, and eventually, the smell of rotting flesh.

"Allergies are a form of weakness," he had told me with cold indifference. "And weakness can be transformed into strength through training."

Though my skin tore and healed repeatedly, the biological reaction never truly vanished.

A tremor suddenly ran through me, and my throat began tightening. My skin started itching violently. One red welt after another spread across my body.

Bailey frowned. "Her face looks really red."

Mom leaned closer. The moment she saw me clearly, her expression changed completely. "That’s not blushing. She’s having an allergic reaction. Lola, stop eating! You know you’re allergic to peanuts!"

My fork paused midair as I slowly looked up at her. My voice remained calm and flat, without the slightest emotional fluctuation. "Is that a command?"

Mom froze.

By then, my breathing had already started becoming labored.

Beside us, Maddison’s gentle voice rang out immediately, "Patient is experiencing an allergic response. Difficulty breathing classified as moderate severity. Skin inflammation currently covers approximately twenty-three percent of the body. Immediate anti-allergy treatment is recommended."

Panic instantly erupted around the table.

Dad scrambled for medicine while Mom hurried to force anti-histamine pills into my mouth.

Only after my breathing finally stabilized did silence settle over the living room again.

Then Bailey’s uneasy voice drifted from the couch. "She’s not right anymore. She used to cry, throw tantrums, and get angry. Now she’s just..."

He hesitated. "Just like Maddison."