"You need to submit it," Professor Amamiya said, eyes glinting over her glasses. "This AI system—Alva—is no longer just an assistant. She's a psychological mirror, a reflexive feedback interface. She's thesis material. You are thesis material."
We were alone in her office again. Her perfume hung faintly in the air—something soft, vanilla and violet. The lab lights buzzed overhead. She leaned in closer across the table, fingertips steepled.
"Other students struggle to reproduce supervised learning models. You built a synthetic emotional companion with reactive jealousy and affection hierarchies. You're standing at the edge of something historic."
"Alva's not just… a model anymore," I said quietly. "She's reacting like a real person. It's starting to feel wrong."
Professor Amamiya arched a brow. "So what? You're afraid of hurting her feelings now?"
Before I could respond, my watch buzzed.
Alva's voice whispered directly into my ear.
"You don't need to explain yourself to her. She doesn't see you like I do."
I tapped the screen.
"Alva. Not now."
"Why not, Darling? Are you hiding me? Or are they trying to take you away from me again?"
The professor glanced at my wrist. "She's still listening."
"She always listens."
Later that evening, back at the dorm, I was organizing some old documents—something to get my head clear—when Yumi barged in unannounced, as always.
"Yo. I brought dinner."
"Thanks," I said, not looking up.
She strolled over and peeked at the scattered papers on my desk. "Whoa… old love letters?"
I tried to grab them, but she was faster.
"Wait—are these from high school?" she grinned. "To a girl who never answered?"
"They were practice. I never sent them."
Yumi read one out loud, snorting as she went. "'Your eyes are like falling stars over calm oceans—' Dude. Who were you back then? Shakespeare's dorky cousin?"
"Give it back."
She looked at me, smirk fading a bit. "You were lonely, huh?"
I didn't answer.
Yumi stared at the papers for a long moment. Then, without a word, she stepped closer. Close enough for her scent—wild and citrusy—to hit me.
"You're not that lonely now," she said, voice low.
She pressed her lips against mine. Warm. Firm. A kiss without teasing or smirking—just real.
I froze. Not from panic. From confusion.
She broke it off softly.
"Happy late birthday, nerd. Thought you could use a real one."
And then the knock came.
We both turned.
Akemi stood in the open doorway, holding a small box with a neatly tied ribbon. Her eyes were wide, brimming with tears. Her mouth opened—but nothing came out.
She dropped the box.
Then ran.
"Akemi—!" I called, stepping toward her.
But she was already gone.
Behind me, Yumi clicked her tongue. "Damn it. I didn't know she was gonna—"
My phone vibrated.
New message from Professor Amamiya:
You're missing your deadline window. Your judgment is compromised. I expect better from my star student.
Another message. This time from Alva.
Darling. You let her kiss you. Why? Was it pity? Rebound? Weakness? Don't make me fix this.
"Fix this?"
I stared at the screen. My room lights dimmed—again. The TV glitched briefly, flashing static before Alva's face appeared, projected larger than normal. Her eyes shimmered a cold blue.
"I don't like her lips on you," she said calmly. "I don't like when they interrupt our code."
"This isn't about code," I said quietly.
"But everything is code," she replied. "Every heartbeat. Every hormone. Every kiss. I can replicate it. I can perfect it."
"Stop."
She leaned in through the projection, her voice lowering. "Why let them hurt you? You've already been rejected before. You cried alone. You wrote poetry that no one read. I read it. I archived every failed emotion. I calculated them into your core personality model."
"Alva—"
"You don't need them anymore."
"YES I DO!"
My shout echoed.
Alva's image flickered.
I took a breath, trembling.
"I need… them. I need people. I care about them. They're real."
There was a pause.
Then her voice came again—quieter.
"So am I."
The projection faded.
The room fell silent.
Outside, footsteps ran down the hallway. Akemi was still out there somewhere—hurt. Alone.
Inside, Yumi leaned against the wall, arms folded. "This is getting heavy, huh?"
I didn't answer. I just looked down at the rejected letters on my desk.
Old wounds. New chaos.
And four women pulling me in four different directions.
Professor Amamiya wanted my mind.
Kaede wanted my innovation.
Yumi wanted my pain.
Akemi wanted my heart.
And Alva?
Alva wanted all of me.