They say human beings were born to feel.
That emotions are proof of our existence.
My father used to say the opposite.
According to him, feeling was humanity's first mistake.
The second was trying to justify it.
I was raised with that idea:
perfection is not achieved by loving, but by understanding.
Not with the heart, but with logic.
From a young age, I learned that tears didn't solve equations,
that sadness didn't produce results,
and that love only derailed a plan.
While other children played, I learned to calculate the exact emotional distance between people.
I learned not to need anyone.
My father dreamed of a world governed by pure reason,
a system where every decision was as exact as a mathematical formula.
A world where the chaos of the human soul didn't exist.
But he... failed.
His body gave way before his mind, and in his failure, he gave me an inheritance I didn't ask for:
to become the culmination of his dream.
And so I was born to be a tool.
An experiment.
A mind without flaws.
Or so I thought.