A drop of water fell from somewhere above and nded in a metal container with a soft plink.

  The little metal ball’s screen flickered to life. It gnced around—an old desk mp buzzed weakly, casting a dim yellow glow, its bulb sputtering like an unsteady heartbeat—fake, endless life.

  The room was split down the middle by a row of dusty cabinets. On one side, a line of cots; on the other, shelves stacked with mushrooms.

  Unlike robots, humans need food to survive—even though it means giving up space they can't afford to lose.

  A tall man stood near the shelves. The distance between them wasn’t small, but the little metal ball could’ve sworn it saw the ghost of a smirk under the man’s thin lips.

  Then, the man started walking toward it.

  “Thank you for saving me.” the little metal ball muttered timidly.

  The warm light caught his smoky-gray curls, and the ice-blue of his eyes looked like distant moonlight—beautiful, but so cold it almost hurt to look at.

  And now, the "moon" was leaning in way too close.

  A slender hand reached out toward him. The little metal ball fpped its wings and stretched out a tiny mechanical arm—

  But the man dodged effortlessly, instead snagging the tip of its titanium tail, making the little metal ball wince and shiver.

  Maybe amused by its resistance, the man let out a low chuckle. Then he pulled back and handed it a small bowl of thick potato soup.

  The smell was ridiculously good. The little metal ball sniffed, tilting its head up to study the man.

  It was nervous, but that weird magnetic pull between them made it hard to stay on guard.

  The man innocently spread his hands in mock surrender, though his tone was slightly demanding.

  "Eat. It's not poison."

  He leaned in again, the stubble on his jaw catching the light.

  “Or… need me to feed ya?"

  The little metal ball’s face heated up. It didn’t even need to eat—but, well, human customs and all that.

  (Not that it was dying to try that soup or anything.)

  It scooped a spoonful and dramatically opened its mouth wide, fshing two tiny sharp teeth like it was trying to swallow the man whole.

  The moment the soup touched its tongue, it froze. Delicious. Way more delicious than it had expected.

  But it couldn’t let the man see that. No way.

  So it pretended to chew slowly—mechanically, even—like this was just some routine data input.

  Totally average. Nothing special at all.

  Definitely not the best thing it had ever tasted.

  And then—the man ughed. Really ughed.

  What kind of human gets this much joy out of watching a tiny robot eat?

  Absolute idiot… but a good one, wasting precious food on a useless little machine.

  the little metal ball decided, refusing to admit that the man had obviously seen right through its little act.

  It wasn’t a very good liar.

  Little metal ball had seen plenty of humans back in the shelter. They weren’t like the ones from the old stories—they were pale, gasping things, like fish flopping on dry nd, as if survival alone had drained all their strength.

  This sun would drain them until they were hollow, and dead, finally.

  They are no longer the omnipotent humans of the past.

  It pitied them.

  And it pitied this man, too—though this pity felt… different.

  Human emotions were complicated but simple. A robot’s love? Impossible for humans to understand—because it was the same for everyone.

  A rough voice snapped him out of its thoughts.

  The little metal ball looked up—if you could call it a "head."

  The man had shed his long coat, revealing a fitted bck vest that hugged his frame. He was polishing a silver-gray sword.

  Then, a faint smirk.

  "Little robots daydream too?"

  The little metal ball pouted.

  "This is your pce?" It muttered.

  "Ours now. Call it a honeymoon suite," the man teased, leaning in with a grin.

  "Honeymoon—?" The little metal ball blinked, then scowled when the man burst out ughing.

  "I'm joking, dummy robot."

  "Dumb human."

  The man’s eyebrows shot up. Then, with a smirk, he lunged—

  The little metal ball zipped backward—

  Too slow. The man snagged his tail again, lifting him up.

  "You’re small," he said, amused.

  The little metal ball’s face burned. Yeah, okay, It wasn’t exactly built for intimidation—but did this guy have to rub it in?

  Before it could retort, the man carried it over to an old grandfather clock, its pendulum swaying weakly.

  Then—he unhooked the pendulum.

  And clipped the little metal ball’s tail in its pce.

  "…The hell?"

  The little metal ball wriggled, but the man just patted its head—weirdly gentle. The little metal ball shuddered.

  Then—

  The door smmed open.

  A tall woman stormed in, dust clinging to her coat. She ripped off her hat, revealing sharp features and a long scar—just like that guy from the shelter.

  His wife? the little metal ball wondered. Why do they both look like they’d stab you for breathing wrong?

  "271," she barked, "you vanish for days, then come back with a pet?"

  (Wait—why does he have a robott’s serial number? And… why’s it the same as mine?)

  "Found him," the man said ftly. Then, after a beat: "Not a Pet."

  The woman scoffed, cleaning her bow with a little too much enthusiasm. Her crimson eyes gleamed—not with anger, but something worse. Something unhinged.

  She fights to survive. To her, anything that can't fight is just scrap.

  "Sure. Just don’t cry when we run out of food babysitting your pet."

  CRACK.

  The man’s sword smmed into the table inches from her hand. His voice turned icy.

  "I said. Not. A. Pet."

  "Oh, fighting over it now?" Her grin widened, twisted. "Good. I was bored."

  She knocked an arrow—not at the man, but at the little metal ball.

  The little metal ball barely had time to yelp before the arrow shattered the wood beside him.

  She was already loading another.

  This one aimed straight at its core.

  It tried to dodge—

  A hand snatched him mid-air.

  The man crashed through the window, dragging the little ball into the dark.

  They fell—

  But instead of an abyss, the little metal ball nded against something warm.

  "Scared?" the man rasped.

  His sword fred to life, a rainbow glow cutting through the night.

  The little metal ball’s eyes widened.

  OoO!

  After a pause, It whispered:

  "So… that dy. She your new wife or something?"

  The man actually ughed.

  "Comrade," he expined simply. "After the Federation took my home, I got stuck sharing space with her."

  His voice softened.

  "I’ve been waiting there. For someone. They were scared of the dark. I didn’t want them getting lost."

  The little metal ball thought, Whoever they were, they were damn lucky to have someone care about them that much.

  In a world where nothing mattered anymore, real care was rarer than clean water.

  "Family?" the little metal ball asked quietly.

  "No," the man said. "No family left."

  "I'm sorry… Maybe I could be your family," the little metal ball mumbled.

  The man huffed teasingly. "What, like a little brother? Call me ‘big bro’ then."

  "No

  way."

  "Then my son?" The man grinned.

  The little metal ball’s face burned again. "Shut up."