Chapter 2

By the time the car pulled into the driveway, it was already getting dark.

Adam was standing by the front door. His hands were folded with practiced neatness in front of him, and his face was set in a perfect, standardized smile—not a millimeter off, showing exactly six teeth.

It was the same as three years ago.

Back then, Mom had knelt down to talk to him. Her voice had been unbelievably tender. "Welcome home, Adam."

Eager to greet my new little brother, I scrambled off the couch and rushed toward them. However, my foot caught on something, and I wiped out, face-planting onto the floor.

No one came to help me up. They just said I was being too rowdy.

After that, everyone started to dislike me. They constantly pointed out that I wasn't as obedient as Adam, nor as thoughtful as Adam.

In the end, I was sent away to Elite Smart Academy.

"Welcome home, Dexter," Adam said. His voice was as crisp and pleasant as ever.

I didn't reply, since he hadn't given the "answer" command.

Dad frowned. "Do you still resent Adam? I guess you haven't really learned how to behave after all. Speak!"

The moment the command was triggered, a smile instantly broke across my face.

"Command received," I said, turning to Adam. "Thank you."

Adam's smile didn't waver, and Dad nodded in satisfaction.

At dinnertime, the family gathered around the dining table. Adam took his place to Dad's right, Sapphire sat at Mom's left, and I was relegated to the very edge of the table.

Steam drifted up from my bowl, carrying the rich, savory aroma of spaghetti, but my stomach didn't even stir.

Inside the academy, eating wasn't about pleasure or hunger. It was simply defined as a "nutrient replenishment protocol".

"Let's eat," Mom said casually.

The command triggered an instant reaction. I picked up my fork without a second of hesitation and began consuming whatever was placed in front of me: spaghetti, roasted turkey, and chunks of green bell pepper.

When Sapphire saw me eat the bell peppers, her eyes widened in disbelief. "Well, that's a first. Since when do you eat bell peppers? Weren't you the pickiest eater alive?"

I didn't answer and simply picked up another piece of bell pepper.

Dylan had taught us that personal preferences were nothing but "emotional residue"—a pathetic symptom of incomplete reformation.

During my third month there, I had stubbornly refused to eat bell peppers. As punishment, I was locked inside the isolation room for two full days.

No light. No sound. No stimulation whatsoever.

Nothing but a suffocating, absolute darkness that felt like it was swallowing me alive.

When I finally left the isolation room, I gave in and ate the bell peppers, followed by the carrots, onions, and bitter melon. I ate every single thing I used to despise.

Dad nodded approvingly. He had always loved a compliant child who wasn't picky.

In the next second, I reached for a peanut from the dish.

I put it into my mouth, chewed exactly 15 times, and swallowed.

Mom's eyes went wide. "Did he just eat a peanut?"

She gasped. "Isn't Dex severely allergic to peanuts? When he was little, he ate just one, and his lips swelled up like sausages. We had to rush him to the ER!"

Sapphire set her fork down. Her voice was laced with disbelief. "Can that academy cure allergies too?"

I chewed in silence, offering no response.

Inside the academy, human bodies weren't allowed to have allergies.

Dylan had smeared peanut jam directly onto my arm. Redness, blisters, and ulcerations spread across my skin, layer by layer.

"An allergy is just a physical weakness. Weakness can be trained into strength."

My skin rotted and healed, healed and rotted, but the allergic reactions kept happening anyway.

A sudden shiver ran through my entire body. I could feel my throat starting to constrict, and my skin began to itch intensely. One after another, terrifying red hives started flaring up.

Sapphire frowned. "His face looks flushed."

Mom leaned in for a closer look, and the color drained from her face. "That's not a flush. He's having an allergic reaction!"

She shouted at me, "Dex, stop eating that! Don't you know you're allergic to peanuts?"

My fork froze mid-air.

I lifted my head and looked at Mom. My eyes showed no emotional fluctuations, and my voice remained as steady as someone reciting a textbook.

"Is that a command?"

Mom froze in shock, while my breathing grew rapid and shallow.

Beside us, Adam's synthesized voice chimed in. "The patient is exhibiting an allergic reaction. Difficulty breathing is currently classified as moderate. Cutaneous inflammation coverage is approximately 23%. Immediate administration of anti-allergy medication is recommended."

They snapped into action, frantically scrambling to get me my allergy medication.

By the time the medication took effect and my breathing finally stabilized, a heavy, suffocating silence had fallen over the living room.

Sapphire's voice drifted over from the couch. "Something is wrong with him. The old Dexter used to cry, scream, and throw tantrums. He wasn't like this. He's acting just like… Adam."