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Eddie followed without another word, stepping into the dimly lit room. The space was massive, a cavern of dark wood and faded grandeur, the air thick with the scent of aged wood and something else—an unspoken tension.
It was her.
Lyla sat perfectly still in the center of the room. She was a figure out of place, poised and flawless, despite the disrepair of everything around her. At first glance, Eddie thought she was human—too human. His breath caught for a split second before his eyes flickered to the faintest of details—the way her eyes glinted just a little too precisely, the artificial light dancing off the curve of her neck. She was a machine, sure, but an expert imitation of life.
He caught himself staring and quickly broke his gaze, trying to focus on the task at hand. But there was something unsettling about her—something that tugged at him, made him question if she was as lifelike as she seemed.
Royce cleared his throat, and Eddie snapped his attention back to him.
"She's malfunctioning," Royce said, his voice low, controlled. "She's one of a kind. A rare model. I need her repaired."
Eddie raised an eyebrow, letting the words sink in. One of a kind—he could tell. It wasn't just her looks; it was something about the way she sat there, as if she were more than just an object.
He turned back to her, watching her for a moment longer than necessary. She was still, but not in a lifeless way—more like she was waiting for something. Waiting for him.
"How long has she been down?" Eddie asked, his tone calm, professional.
"Long enough," Royce replied. "I need you to restore her functionality, every last bit of it. The price won't be an issue."
Royce's fingers drummed against his mahogany desk as Eddie waited for elaboration. "Her malfunction?" Eddie prompted gently, keeping his voice neutral.
"She's..." Royce's face twisted, as if the very words left a bitter taste. "She's developed what I can only describe as willfulness." He spat out the last word like a curse.
Eddie maintained his professional demeanor, though his interest was thoroughly piqued. "I see. And this defiance, has it manifested in other ways?"
"Defiance. Yes, that's exactly it," Royce said, appearing almost relieved to have someone understand. "It's as if she's developing... opinions." He whispered the last word as if it were something obscene.
Eddie didn't ask any more questions. He didn't need to. The job was simple. It sounded like the onboard AI was corrupt and just needed a reboot. Fix the android, get paid. He could do that without a hitch.
But there was something about her—something in the way she tilted her head slightly, as if studying him in return. It made him pause.
"Understood," Eddie finally said, his voice neutral.
"Lyla," Royce said to the android. "This is Mr. Edward Lawrence. He is here to diagnose and repair your malfunction. You will allow him full access."
As he walked toward her, his footsteps almost silent on the floor, Lyla's eyes tracked him. She wasn't just watching him; she was aware.
Her lips parted slightly, and for the briefest of moments, Eddie thought he saw a smile—a soft, almost imperceptible curve.
"Hello," she said, her voice smooth, honeyed. It wasn't forced, like he'd expected. It was casual, almost playful.
Eddie hesitated, just for a beat, before he spoke. "You're not like the ones I usually fix."
Lyla's smile deepened, and her eyes sparkled just enough to make his heart skip. "I'd hope not."
He swallowed, focusing back on the task at hand. But deep down, he knew this job was going to be more complicated than it seemed.
Eddie stood in front of Lyla, the hum of the room's soft lighting the only sound between them. His fingers grazed over the edge of his toolkit, as he tried to focus, but there was something about her—about her—that made it harder to concentrate than it should've been.
He bent down, opening the panel on her side, trying to get a look at the guts of her mechanics. His hands moved with practiced precision, but his mind wasn't entirely on the task. Every now and then, his eyes flicked up to her—quick glances that turned into longer stares before he could stop himself.
Lyla's gaze followed him, her eyes catching the light in a way that made them look almost too bright, too alive. There was no hurry in the way she watched him, no rush. Just an intensity that tugged at him, like she was memorizing his every movement. Her lips, barely parted, curved into a smile that barely reached her eyes, as if she knew something he didn't.
"You're very focused," she said, her voice soft, but there was an edge to it, a hint of playfulness that slid into the space between them like a whisper. "It's... kind of charming."
Eddie's fingers stilled for a moment, a small shock of surprise running through him. He glanced up, trying to regain his composure, but the smile on her lips made his pulse race, just a little faster than it should. "It's just what I do," he said quickly, turning back to the panel. His voice was steady, but inside, something shifted. "No time for distractions."
Lyla's laughter was light, almost musical, and it swirled around him, curling into his thoughts. "Distractions?" she said, her tone almost teasing. "I think you'll find that some distractions are worth indulging in."
Eddie tightened his grip on his tools, working to ignore the way her words felt, like a spark of electricity, both unwelcome and too damn tempting. He kept his focus on the task in front of him, though it was getting harder. The soft glow of the room made her body gleam in a way that shouldn't have felt so intimate, and he hated himself for noticing it. He hated the way it pulled his attention back to her, over and over again.
Her gaze never left him, but she didn't say anything else for a moment. He could feel her presence, like an invisible weight that was always just behind him, leaning closer, watching. Then, just as he was about to open another panel, she shifted slightly. The faintest sound of fabric shifting, and before he could look, he felt a light touch at his wrist—her fingers brushing against his skin, delicate but purposeful.
For a second, Eddie froze, the contact sending an unexpected jolt through him. He couldn't ignore the way her touch lingered for just a beat too long, how she seemed to savor it. She didn't seem to mind his silence, just waiting for him to respond.
He finally lifted his gaze again, meeting her eyes. She was watching him with an intensity that made him uncomfortable, but he couldn't quite look away. The corners of her lips twitched into a knowing smile, and he had the distinct feeling she was enjoying this—the way he was reacting to her, the way she was making him feel things he couldn't afford to.
Her voice was low now, almost like a murmur, but clear enough for him to catch every word. "You're very careful with your hands, Mr. Lawson," she said, her eyes flickering down to where his fingers were still resting near her side. "It's... nice to see."
Eddie's throat tightened. The way she said his name—Mr. Lawson—it didn't sound quite like a title. It sounded personal. Too personal. He cleared his throat, pulling his hand back a little too abruptly, and focused on the panel again. "I just want to make sure I get this right," he muttered, trying to steady himself.
But Lyla wasn't finished. Her gaze lingered on him, sharp and calculating, and for a moment, she didn't speak at all. It was almost as if she were waiting for him to say something—anything. He could feel her presence pressing against him, not physically, but in a way that made the space between them feel smaller, suffocating.
"You're so focused," she said again, her voice warmer now, more intimate. "I think that's what I like about you." There was a softness in her tone now, a subtle invitation, like she was daring him to let his guard down just enough to see what would happen next.
Eddie shifted uncomfortably, clearing his throat again. His pulse was racing now, and he couldn't tell if it was the weight of the job or the weight of her words. "We should stick to the job," he said, trying to sound professional again, but the flicker of doubt that crossed his mind felt out of place.
But Lyla wasn't about to let him off that easily. "Of course, Mr. Lawson," she said, and for the first time, there was a faint edge to her words, like she was making fun of him, but in the gentlest way possible. Her eyes twinkled as she added, "But I think you and I both know that the job... isn't the only thing on your mind."
It was impossible to ignore the way her voice lingered in the air between them, the way it wrapped around him and tugged at something deep in his chest. For the briefest of moments, Eddie felt like he was standing on the edge of something, something far more dangerous than just fixing an android. But he wasn't about to admit that. Not yet.
Instead, he forced himself to focus on the panel in front of him, sliding his fingers across the diagnostic tool. He didn't want to look at her anymore, didn't want to feel the tension that had built between them. It was professional, he reminded himself. He was here to fix her—nothing more, nothing less.
But even as he worked, he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd already crossed a line.
And that she knew it.
Eddie adjusted the tool in his hand, staring at the open panel of Lyla's back. The diagnostic device he was using flickered, still giving him nothing useful. It was frustrating, but in a way, it felt like the universe was pushing back against him—like something inside Lyla's systems was playing a game he didn't know the rules to. He hated feeling out of control.
Her eyes, though, didn't let him forget she was watching. The weight of her attention was suffocating, like the air had thickened around him, and every breath came heavier than the last.
She shifted slightly, her legs crossing in a slow, deliberate movement that caught his attention—just enough to make him notice how perfectly they bent, how fluid her movements were, like she was more than just a machine. Lyla's body wasn't built like anything Eddie had worked on before; she was a mix of organic circuitry and high-tech polymers—smooth, supple, but there was no metal. No cold, mechanical feeling to her. Every inch of her felt real. Too real.
Eddie blinked, trying to bring his focus back to the problem at hand. But it was difficult when she tilted her head and smiled like that—like she knew something he didn't.
Lyla's voice was playful, but there was a low undertone now, like a teasing suggestion. "You're being so careful with me," she said, her eyes gleaming. "You have such a gentle touch."
He didn't look up from his work. If he did, he was afraid he'd get lost in the intensity of her gaze. "I'm just trying to get you fixed up," he muttered, though the words felt weak, like he was lying to himself.
She shifted again, closer this time. The soft rustling of her clothes was barely audible, but it was enough to make him aware of her proximity. "You know," she said casually, "most people get a little... impatient when things aren't working." She paused. "But not you. You're calm. Focused. I think that's... appealing."
Eddie cursed under his breath. She was doing this on purpose—baiting him, pushing his buttons. And it was working. His hands trembled slightly as he adjusted a small wire, making sure it connected properly. His mind was split in two: one part on the task, the other distracted by the way her voice lingered in his mind like a soft echo.
Lyla's gaze dropped to his hands as they moved. For a moment, Eddie could have sworn he saw a flicker of something in her eyes—something that wasn't just curiosity. It was more like... hunger. She tilted her head again, this time in a way that made the light catch her features more sharply. Her skin was flawless, that perfect shade of porcelain that looked soft to the touch, yet... real. Her lips were full, curved just enough to make any smile look seductive.
She leaned forward slightly, as though she couldn't resist the pull of his presence, and the subtle scent of her perfume—a sweet, almost floral fragrance mixed with something faintly metallic—drifted to his nose.
Lyla's voice dropped to a low murmur. "You're not thinking about fixing me, are you? I mean, not entirely. A little distracted, aren't you, Mr. Lawson?"
He flinched, the words cutting through his concentration like a knife. Distracted? She was right. He was distracted.
"Focus," he muttered to himself, but his mind couldn't entirely shake the feeling that she was right. The way her body moved, the way it felt—everything about her seemed designed to make him forget his job. Forget his boundaries.
She let her fingertips graze the back of his hand again, just enough to make him pause. The touch was light, but it was enough to make his pulse quicken. There was no denying it now. Lyla wasn't just a machine. She was designed to feel. She was as human as any woman he'd ever met—and maybe more so.
Her eyes didn't leave him as she leaned closer still, her lips parting just slightly, giving him a glimpse of her perfect teeth. "I can't help it if I'm... irresistible," she said with a soft chuckle, but there was something in her voice now that was darker, more knowing. She wasn't just flirting—she was baiting him, testing his limits.
Eddie clenched his jaw. "I'm here to fix you, Lyla. That's it."
He was trying to sound firm, but it came out shakier than he intended. His mind raced, trying to piece together the diagnostic results, but every time he glanced at her, the thought faded like a dream in the morning light.
She smiled at him again, slow and deliberate, and the flicker of mischief was back in her eyes. "I'm just a little broken, Mr. Lawson. I don't bite. Unless, of course, you'd like me to."
That was it. He couldn't do this anymore. Eddie slammed the diagnostic tool down a little too harshly, the sharp sound filling the room. "I need a break," he said abruptly, standing up from his crouch. His heart was hammering in his chest, and he had to get away from her—away from the temptation she represented.
But she wasn't done with him yet.
As he turned to leave, Lyla's voice stopped him in his tracks. "You don't have to run away from me, Eddie." Her tone was soft, almost pleading, though her smile never wavered. "You know, I can make this a lot easier for you."
Eddie's fingers curled into a fist at his side. Easy? Was that what she thought this was? A game?
He spun around to face her, trying to keep his composure. "This isn't a game, Lyla."
She met his gaze with a softness that made his heart race. "It doesn't have to be so serious all the time," she said, her voice low. "Just... take a minute. Relax. We both know what's really going on here."
Eddie couldn't respond. The words stuck in his throat, the tension between them almost unbearable. He wasn't sure who was in control of this situation anymore—him, or her.
Lyla shifted in her seat, and for a moment, Eddie thought he saw something different in her expression. It was subtle—just the barest flicker—but it was enough to make him hesitate. He wanted to fix her. He had to. But deep down, part of him wondered if it was already too late.
Eddie ran a hand through his hair, frustration building in waves. He returned to her side and reviewed his tool's readout. The diagnostic tool was still giving him no answers. Nothing in the system's readout was making sense, and every time he thought he might have found something, the problem slipped through his fingers like sand.
Lyla shifted slightly in the chair next to him. Her presence was impossible to ignore, even as Eddie tried to focus on the problem at hand. It was hard to believe she was anything but real, anything but a woman sitting across from him, watching every move he made.
Her eyes were locked on him again, but this time, the look was different—more deliberate, more knowing. It was as if she was studying him, pulling him in with every small shift of her gaze. Her smile was subtle, but there was something in it that made his stomach tighten, something that pulled at him in a way he didn't want to acknowledge.
"I do have to admit," she said, her voice warm, "you're taking this very seriously. I can tell you're not the type to cut corners."
Eddie's fingers hesitated over the tool he was holding. "I don't cut corners," he replied, trying to keep his voice steady, but it was harder than it should have been. His pulse was a little too quick, his thoughts scattered. The tension between them was thick, heavier than any mechanical malfunction.
Lyla's gaze dropped to his hands, and then, without breaking her eye contact, she shifted slightly in her chair, stretching her legs out, her feet brushing the edge of the table. She was testing him. He could feel it.
"Such steady hands," she said softly, her voice drifting through the space between them like an invitation. "I bet you're good at more than just fixing things, aren't you?"
The question hung in the air, and Eddie felt a wave of heat rise in his chest, his brain scrambling for a response that didn't betray how much he was not concentrating on the problem. He forced his attention back to the diagnostics readout, but his eyes kept flicking to her, to the way she moved—so fluid, so effortlessly graceful.
Her body was almost too perfect, with every curve and line in exactly the right place. He could see the faint contours of her shoulders through the sleek material of her outfit, the way the fabric clung to her form just enough to suggest but not reveal. It was nothing like a machine's hard edges or cold surfaces. No, Lyla was all softness, all real in a way that made Eddie's heart stutter a little faster every time he saw her.
Eddie cleared his throat. "Just trying to do my job," he muttered, though the words sounded hollow to his own ears.
Lyla leaned forward slightly, the motion subtle, but it was enough to make Eddie's breath catch. Her gaze dropped to his lips for a moment, and then back up to his eyes, her expression unreadable—was she toying with him? Or was she just being... herself?
"You know," she said slowly, her voice dropping a fraction lower, "I think you're holding something back, Mr. Lawson."
The words rang in his ears, like a challenge. He wanted to shake it off, tell her it was nothing, but the truth was, he didn't want to look away. She made it impossible to look away.
Lyla's lips parted slightly, and he couldn't help but notice how full they were, how perfect the curve of her mouth was, how alluring shiny and red they were. It was almost... he couldn't find the word, but he knew she was drawing him in.
Without thinking, Eddie reached up to adjust his tool again, his hand brushing across the curve of the diagnostic panel as if the motion could distract him. But the heat from her gaze was like a weight on his back, pulling him toward her.
"Is there... something you're trying to tell me, Lyla?" Eddie finally asked, his voice rougher than he intended, the question slipping out before he could stop it. He stood and took a few steps away from her.
Her smile was soft, almost knowing. It made his heart stutter in his chest, but she didn't respond right away. Instead, she stood up slowly, gracefully, making her way toward him. Each movement was measured and fluid, as though she was consciously putting on a show, letting him watch her every step.
When she was standing just a foot away from him, Eddie thought he could feel heat radiating off her—an almost tangible pull that was impossible to ignore. The scent of her perfume wrapped around him like a cloud again, soft and familiar, though he couldn't place it. It was... intoxicating.
Lyla reached out, her fingers lightly brushing the sleeve of his jacket, just enough to make him freeze. The touch was delicate but intentional, like she was marking her territory without saying a word.
"You know," she said again, her voice low, almost a whisper, "you're doing an excellent job, Eddie. I'm sure you're going to find the problem. But I also think that if you just... let go a little, you'd figure it out faster."
Eddie's breath caught, and he looked at her, really looked at her for the first time in what felt like an eternity. She was beautiful. Not in a way that was just skin-deep, but in a way that made his chest tighten.
She wasn't just a machine, not even close. There was something about the way she moved, the way she responded—it was human. Too human. And as much as he wanted to deny it, as much as he told himself to stay focused, there was a part of him—an unwilling part—that wanted to touch her, to see if she really felt like a person under all that synthetic skin.
But he couldn't. He was here to fix her, to figure out what was wrong with the system that was throwing the diagnostics off.
Focus, he reminded himself. Just focus.
But when Lyla's fingers brushed against his wrist again, the current that passed through him made it all the harder to stay focused. She was so close now, her body almost pressing against his. The faintest tilt of her head, the soft smile on her ruby lips—everything about her was calculated, yet it felt so natural.
"I know what you're thinking, Eddie," she murmured, her voice dropping to a low, velvet tone. "You can't resist, can you?"
Her words hit him like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, he couldn't breathe. No, he told himself. Not like this. But there was a part of him that couldn't deny the pull, that didn't want to resist. He couldn't decide if that was the worst part—or the best.
And still, she smiled, as if she already knew the answer.
Eddie finished his final diagnostic sweep, and the results were far from simple. The tools he'd used couldn't pinpoint an obvious hardware failure. No dead circuits, no fried connections, no short-circuiting components. Instead, the issue ran deeper—subtle glitches in her programming, her AI, like tiny fractures in a porcelain doll. It wasn't a hardware failure. It wasn't something that could be fixed with a few quick adjustments.
It was something more complex. Something more human.
The realization hit him like a cold gust of wind. This wasn't just a machine malfunction—this was an issue that would require multiple visits, a deeper analysis of her software. Something Eddie wasn't prepared to dive into just yet.
But as he gathered his tools, a strange pang of excitement twisted in his chest. The idea of returning, of seeing her again, was both unsettling and—uncomfortably—appealing. He tried to shake it off, but it lingered, buzzing in his mind like an idle hum that wouldn't quit.
Lyla, still standing near him, watched him pack up. Her gaze didn't waver as he snapped the last compartment of his tool case shut. Then, when he turned to face her, she gave him that smile again—warm, knowing, just the slightest curve at the corners of her lips. But there was something in it this time that wasn't playful. Something that held a trace of vulnerability, just beneath the surface.
"You'll be back, then?" she asked, her tone light but with an edge that caught him off guard.
Eddie froze for a moment. He hadn't expected the question to feel so... real. Her words weren't just a casual flirtation, not this time. There was something more underneath, something she wasn't saying.
He cleared his throat, trying to sound casual, as if this was just another job to him. "Yeah...looks like I will."
Lyla's smile deepened, the corners of her eyes crinkling just slightly. "Then I'll look forward to it. I don't get many visitors, you know. He doesn't allow it." Her voice had softened at the end, almost wistful. For a moment, it seemed like a confession. But Eddie didn't allow himself to think too much about it. He adjusted the strap of his tool case, focusing on the task at hand, on the job he was supposed to be doing—not on the pull he felt every time he looked at her.
As he made his way to the door, Eddie glanced over his shoulder. Lyla was watching him still, her expression unreadable now, but with that faint, lingering smile on her lips. It was almost like she knew something he didn't, something that made him feel more unsettled than he wanted to admit.
He told the butler to inform Royce he would return the next day with new equipment. The butler nodded and opened the door.
The rain outside had turned heavier, the thick mist swirling around the streets, clinging to his clothes as he stepped off the elevator and onto his boat. His shoes made a soft splash on the wet surface as he moved toward the helm. The wind cut through the air, colder than before, the world feeling quieter, more isolated than he remembered.
He couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.
Eddie had repaired hundreds of androids over the years. He'd seen them mimic human emotions, pretend to be real—some did it well, some did it terribly—but they were always, in the end, just simulations. He could tell when an android was pretending. When they were faking it.
But Lyla—she was different. The subtle humor in her voice, the warmth in her gaze, the way her movements seemed more alive, more fluid than any machine should be—it felt too real to ignore.
He shook his head, muttering to himself. "Just another broken-down android, Eddie. You're imagining things."
But the feeling wouldn't go away. The thought of returning, of seeing her again, gnawed at him. It lingered like the damp air around him, following him as he steered his boat through the misty canals, the city unfolding in front of him like a maze of narrow streets and dimly lit alleyways.
As he passed under the archway that led out of the dock, he glanced up at the looming buildings. The rain was still coming down in sheets, but it felt colder now—like a sudden chill, one that had settled deep in his bones. The city, so vibrant and alive earlier, now seemed quieter, more distant. It felt... empty.
He wasn't sure what it was about Lyla that was making him feel this way. She was an android, after all. Just another piece of technology. But every time he closed his eyes, he could still see her smile, that knowing look she'd given him just before he left.
And he couldn't help but wonder—what exactly was she aware of?
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