Replaced by the Obedient AI Little Brother

My parents have adopted an AI son called Adam. On the day he gets adopted, I get viewed by my family as a nuisance, for some reason.

Dad hates how mischievous and cheeky I am. Mom thinks I'm inferior to Adam in every way.

My older sister, Sapphire Griffin, even shouts at me. "What else are you capable of doing other than fighting with me over everything?"

I feel like crying because the family has turned against me. So, I shove Adam to the floor out of rage.

Mom's expression darkens instantly. She then slaps me in the face with all the strength she can muster.

"Adam is your little brother! Oh, if only you're just as obedient and understanding as he is! I wouldn't have a building headache because of you!

"Well, I want you to study at Elite Smart Academy and learn how to become a docile son!"

I'm forced into an exchange program with Adam. That's how I begin studying at Elite Smart Academy.

Three years later, my parents and Sapphire pick me up from the academy. When they call out to me, I don't move an inch at all.

The director, Bruce Harrison, says with a smile, "Mr. Griffin, you need to say 'Power on, Unit 1314' for it to boot up."

"Power on, Unit 1314," Dad said.

As he gave the command, his tone wavered with hesitation. He wasn't entirely sure why he was saying it. He was just repeating what Bruce Harrison, the director of Elite Smart Academy, had told him to say.

My eyes lit up instantly, like a screen on standby finally receiving a signal.

I rose from my chair. My arms hung naturally at my sides, and my spine was perfectly straight.

"System booted. Please state your command," I said mechanically.

Dad froze at my words.

Behind him, Bruce's voice rang out. "Mr. Griffin, in order to provide the best behavioral conditioning for our students, our academy has developed a specialized system."

He smiled and continued, "Students require an activation command to be awakened. Once that command is in place, they'll never defy a single wish of yours again."

After Bruce's explanation, it finally clicked for Dad.

My older sister, Sapphire Griffin, pushed her way to the front. There was a mischievous glint in her eyes.

She was five years my senior, and she had spent the better part of our childhood treating my tears like her personal entertainment.

Back then, whenever one of her pranks hit its mark, I would chase her all over the house until Mom finally stepped in and chewed us both out.

"Unit 1314, bark like a dog," she commanded.

The moment the command registered, I tucked in my chin, stuck out my tongue, and began barking loudly.

Sapphire doubled over with laughter, turning to Mom and Dad. "Dexter really learned his lesson this time! Remember how he used to drag his feet for half an hour every time we told him to practice his handwriting? Now look at him—he barks like a dog without a single complaint."

Mom and Dad both nodded. Their eyes gleamed with satisfaction at my compliance.

…

On the way home, Dad tried to strike up some casual conversation. "So, Dex, how were these past three years at the academy?"

I didn't answer because he hadn't used the word "answer".

"Dex?"

His voice pitched up.

Finally, I spoke. My voice was as flat and emotionless as a text-to-speech machine. "Questions are not valid commands. If you require a response, please use imperative sentences."

The air inside the car instantly froze.

The words caught in Dad's throat, and it took him a long moment to finally manage to say, "Answer."

"Life in the academy was fulfilling and meaningful for me. I successfully completed three core modules: Emotional Control, Absolute Obedience, and Rational Cognition.

"I cleared my final evaluation with honors. My instructor, Mr. Dylan Scott, named me 'The Most Successful Reform Case of the Year' in light of my final assessment."

I recited the passage word for word without a single hint of inflection. I sounded exactly like someone reading a product manual aloud.

Silence filled the backseat for a long moment.

Sapphire shifted uncomfortably, murmuring under her breath, "Why does he sound exactly like Adam?"

I kept my gaze fixed on the road ahead. My face was a perfect, empty slate.

Outside the window, the city blurred past. The jagged silhouettes of skyscrapers, the looping overpasses, the neon flash of billboards—none of it matched the memories locked away in my head.

Inside the therapeutic boarding academy, time hadn't been measured in years or even days. It had been broken down into a sterile grid of commands. A single day felt no different from a month.

At first, the only way I could track time was by scratching tally marks into the walls of the isolation room.

Eventually, I forgot even how to make the marks.