006: He'd Disappeared_

Emerson’s car screeched to a halt in front of his estate. The massive iron gates were definitely mocking him now. He slammed the car door shut and stormed toward the house.

Inside, the scene was quiet. Too quiet.

The stillness made the hair on the back of Emerson's neck stand up. This wasn't like his house the cleaners and cooks made into a chatter room. He spotted Rose and Lucy standing awkwardly in the corridor, their faces pale. They fidgeted under his piercing glare.

“Sir Emerson,” Rose started, her voice pleading not to be fired. “There’s… there's something in the kitchen.”

Something? Not someone?

Emerson raised an eyebrow. He’d hired countless chefs before, but Rose’s unease was unusual. She wasn’t the type to be rattled by much.

“Out with it,” Emerson demanded, freaking tired of her fidgeting already.

Rose swallowed hard. “The new guy you brought home last night… Mr. Porsche? He’s, uh… cooking.”

Porsche? Oh, the sex bot. He had named it after his car. Wait. Cooking? 

Emerson blinked, momentarily thrown off. He thought robots didn't eat, let alone cook. He thought ‘Porsche' was synthetic… an advanced companion, not a chef. 

But before Emerson could respond, Lucy blurted out, “Sir, he’s like a… machine. Moving so fast, it’s freaky. We didn’t know what to do because we couldn't stop him either.”

Emerson’s chest tightened. That fucking sex bot shouldn’t have been in the kitchen, let alone interacting with his staff! Wasn't he programmed to stay discreet? 

Whatever this was, Emerson hoped it better be a stupid malfunction and not something out of a horror film.

“Stay here,” Emerson ordered, brushing past them toward the kitchen.

---

The moment he entered, his breath caught.

There ‘Porsche’ stood, barefoot on the tiled floor, surrounded by plates of immaculate dishes. The scent of freshly baked bread mingled with the aroma of roasted vegetables and sizzling meat. There were pancakes too. It was a feast worthy of a Michelin-starred chef.

But that wasn’t what had Emerson’s jaw tightening.

It was the way Porsche moved. Unnaturally fluid, his hands a blur as he plated a dish with mechanical precision. His pale, humanlike skin glowed faintly under the overhead lights. Every detail screamed real, but Emerson knew better.

“Porsche,” Emerson called, his voice sharp. Good heavens he didn't call it what it was… a fucking sex bot!

Porsche froze mid-motion, his head snapping up to meet Emerson’s gaze almost a mechanical way. Those unnervingly mink brown eyes locked onto his blue ones. Neither of them blinked.

“Boyfriend,” Porsche said simply. His tone was fucking smooth and ethereally bewitching.

Emerson’s stomach churned. “Fuck. Me.” Aside from how damn enticing that title ‘Boyfriend' sounded, there was no trace of the warmth or submissive demeanor Porsche was programmed to exude. 

Instead, there was something... off. It sounded naturally stubborn like a bratty princess arguing with the driver.

“I’d ignore you calling me that. What the hell are you doing in here?” Emerson asked, stepping closer.

“I am preparing sustenance,” Porsche replied, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“You don’t eat,” Emerson snapped. “You don’t cook either. Why are you doing this?”

Porsche tilted his head, the movement similar to a robot's despite his flesh-like appearance. “Because it is required.”

“Required by who?”

A brief silence hung between them before Porsche spoke again, his voice softer, almost contemplative. “By you.”

Emerson clenched his fists. “I didn’t ask for this.”

Porsche’s gaze drifted downward, almost as if he were disappointed. “Perhaps not yet.”

The cryptic response sent a chill down Emerson’s spine. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

---

Rose and Lucy peeked around the corner, whispering.

“Is he... arguing with his friend?” Lucy asked, her voice laced with curiosity. Sir Emerson never argued with anyone. He either kicked you out or remained silent.

Rose elbowed her. “Shh! You’ll get us caught.”

But even from their hiding spot, they couldn’t miss whatever was radiating from the kitchen.

“Is it just me, or does that guy seem... too close to Sir Emerson? Like a boyfriend,” Lucy muttered.

Rose didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Because deep down, she was thinking the exact same thing.

---

Back in the kitchen, Emerson glared at Porsche. He was being driven to madness. He couldn’t afford for his staff, or worse, the world, to find out what Porsche truly was.

“Enough,” Emerson said finally. “Go to your room. Now. Disappear.”

Porsche hesitated, titling his head with an unreadable expression, but he obeyed. As he took a step close to Emerson, there was a moment—a fleeting second—where their eyes met. And in that moment, Emerson could’ve sworn Porsche smirked.

The hair on the back of his neck prickled again.

Suddenly… Zoom! A wild gust of wind roared through the kitchen, accompanied by an intense hum. It felt like a meteor had just ripped past.

“Huh?”

Emerson staggered. His heart nearly stopped as he whipped around. The air was eerily still, but Porsche was gone. Completely.

No footsteps. No sound. No trace.

“What the….” Emerson’s eyes darted here and there, scanning every corner for even the faintest sign of movement. Had he just seen….? Or rather, hadn’t.

“Fuck!” He slapped a hand to his forehead, the realization hitting him like a brick. “Did that…?”

His words trailed off, but the answer echoed back in his mind loud and clear. Yes. Yes, it did.

Porsche hadn’t just left the kitchen. He hadn’t walked out or even run.

He’d disappeared. Literally vanished into thin air.

“Oh, come on!” He threw his hands up in exasperation. “Seriously? Instead of just walking out like a normal... whatever you are?”