Bound by Fate and Desire

Chapter 1

Elliot Carver, two years into adulthood, finds himself overwhelmed by the heat cycle and decides to apply for a marriage match in The Federation.
The match leads him to a remarkable figure.
Heinrich von Romain, a thirty-year-old male Alpha, is the youngest major general in The Federation, known as the "Blade of the Federation." Each year, he is the face of the military recruitment campaigns, becoming the dream partner for countless singles.
Elliot's goal is simple: he merely wants to find an Alpha to endure the heat cycle—he doesn’t need a figure of Heinrich’s stature.
*
Heinrich von Romain is notoriously cold and ruthless, earning the title "The Blade of the Federation." At a press conference celebrating the return of the expeditionary forces, when asked about his ideal Omega, he states matter-of-factly while adjusting the microphone, "Is there really nothing better to discuss?"
Two months later, Heinrich makes a rare social media post showcasing a picture of an Asian male Omega—handsome, with a cool demeanor—standing amidst a garden of white roses, raising an eyebrow at the camera.
**Heinrich von Romain**: "Ideal type."
Cold, stoic major general meets a genius with a playful twist.
“Is there really nothing better to discuss?”
The explosion of camera flashes fades for just a moment, the room captivated by the magnetic, sultry tones in his voice, devoid of emotional fluctuation.
His slender fingers, encased in white gloves, gently adjust the dark microphone, the gold-threaded tassels shimmering subtly as they brush past the medal-laden lapel of his neatly pressed uniform.
A reporter from *Daily News*, the largest entertainment magazine in The Federation, smiles and presses on, undeterred. "Major Romain, at twenty-eight, your profile has been with the marriage registry for eight years without a match. Is it merely a lack of compatibility, or are you evading your civic duties thanks to your high rank?"
"General Romain is the highest military officer of the air force, and his authority does not override that of the command center. If you question this, feel free to submit a request for my marriage match records. I would gladly grant you access." Heinrich lifts a hand, the golden threads of his sleeve glinting as he cuts the reporter off, addressing the woman behind him with unexpected politeness, “Your time is up—this lady, please proceed.”
Heinrich, considered the dream guy of countless individuals, draws attention not only for his prestigious lineage and military accolades but also for his almost flawless appearance.
Natalia, who once endured countless Alpha-centric rants about Heinrich's looks, finds herself spellbound by the piercing blue of his eyes, finally agreeing with her roommate's sentiments: Alphas really can be extraordinarily handsome.
Before her, Heinrich von Romain epitomizes the elite of Alphas.
Mind hazy, Natalia stumbles through her rehearsed question, "The interstellar pirates have been causing trouble near the Eighth Star System for years, but this is their first incursion near Rosewood Vale. After your decisive victory against the Black Raven Society, do you plan to pursue the pirates deep into the Eighth Star System?"
Heinrich’s uniform, adorned with rose floral insignia, fits impeccably, the stark black contrasting with a crisp white inner shirt, his tie impeccably knotted. He removes his military cap, the shimmering golden locks of hair perfectly styled as though he is ready for a victory banquet at Rosewood Hall.
At the question, Heinrich raises an eyebrow, his formerly bored expression brightening with interest, surprised to find a worthy inquiry amidst a sea of banalities.
Flipping his gaze to the media logo of the lady who posed the question, he responds with polished rhetoric—delivering a well-constructed answer without revealing any specifics about further military action in the Eighth Star System. As he elaborates on the military’s commitment to protecting the citizenry, he effortlessly weaves around the original question.
Once finished, he shows a surprising gentleness, perhaps a unique interest in the questioning lady. Normally irritated by interviews, where queries often lack substance, he seems willing to elongate their session, raising speculations about his taste for intelligent women.
However, his aide, Andrei Thompson, understands the truth; he sighs, knowing Heinrich merely prefers to answer questions offering some merit—even if this actress's query appears slightly naïve, it still surpasses the usual frivolous inquiries from the media.
Swallowing nervously, Natalia, caught in the depth of Heinrich's gaze, musters the courage to ask, "So, Major, what type of Omega do you prefer?"
The room falls into an anxious silence as everyone's eyes focus on Heinrich. He picks up his cap, standing abruptly, "Time is up; the interview is concluded."
Gasps spread through the room, but no one dares intervene. With a mother, Helga Adams, who is a high-ranking official within the military, it’s no wonder Heinrich agreed to this interview in the first place. Onlookers know that even if he chose to walk out indignantly, they would not challenge his authority.
Afterward, Heinrich steps into his hovering vehicle, passing his cap to Andrei. Andrei has already prepared a glass of rum with ice, while opening his terminal to report Heinrich’s schedule. Invitations flood in, proclaiming the major general’s triumph over the interstellar pirates; while most can be fobbed off, there are essential meetings and gatherings he must attend.

Chapter 2

“There's a banquet at Rosewood Vale tonight at seven. General Winslow and Helga Adams will be attending. Also, General Winslow left a message for you, hoping you can make it back to Aegean Bay this evening.”
Aegean Bay was the family home of Heinrich von Romain, a place he rarely visited since enrolling in the Military Academy at fifteen.
“Here’s the most important part,” Andrei Thompson said, glancing at his terminal, a smirk playing on his lips. “The mainframe sent a message thirty minutes ago. Your application from eight years back at the Civil Registry Office just got a response—you’ve been matched with an Omega.”
Heinrich’s grip on his glass wavered, and he carefully set it down in the recess of his chair. Slowly removing his white gloves, he asked in a low voice, “Is it a male or female?”
“Male. Twenty years old,” corrected Andrei, surprised by the age; after reaching adulthood, Omegas typically had a four-year waiting period before they could submit an application. It was rare for an Omega to apply right upon turning eighteen. “And this one isn’t just any Omega. He’s currently working at the Academy of Sciences, purely of Asian descent. His name is Elliot Carver.” Andrei’s gaze lingered on Elliot’s identification photo, finding him strikingly attractive in the gentle and graceful way favored today.
“What’s the compatibility rate?” Heinrich shook the glass, the ice clinking sharply.
“Sixty percent.”
This was the minimum compatibility rate required for matching. Over the past eight years, no Omega had reached this threshold with him, and if Elliot Carver barely scraped by, cancellation wouldn’t be difficult to pursue.
Unfortunately, reality had other plans. Andrei turned off the private mode on his terminal, revealing Elliot’s personal data in front of them. “Sir, the compatibility rate is actually eighty-nine percent.”
Heinrich’s expression turned icy as Andrei continued, “The mainframe has enforced this highest compatibility for an Alpha-Omega pairing, and you can't apply for cancellation.”
“The mainframe enforces,” Heinrich muttered bitterly as he found himself enveloped in the swirling dance of the evening.
***
At Rosewood Vale, Heinrich was executing precise steps with Mia Leclerc, the daughter of the head of the Military Discipline Committee. Mia, a graceful Beta, twirled elegantly with the tall, dashing Heinrich in his military uniform—a tableau pleasing to watch.
Following the dance, the head of the Military Discipline Committee handed Heinrich a wine glass, commencing with casual compliments. In response, Heinrich offered bland official replies.
From across the room, General Winslow and Helga Adams spotted their son cornered in awkward small talk, expertly approaching to rescue him. Heinrich released a discreet sigh of relief and slipped away toward a quieter corner. Mia trailed behind, her smile tinged with apology. “I’m sorry, Major. My father means no harm.”
Mia lifted a glass filled with wine like red roses, its aroma blooming under the warm lights. She raised her glass. “Congratulations on your accomplishments, Major. I haven’t had the chance to celebrate yet.” With a soft smile, she added, “My brother can’t return; he’s been dispatched to the Third Star System, so let's toast to him.”
Heinrich didn’t clink glasses. His tone flat, he replied, “Mia, your brother wouldn’t toast with me using wine from Fanar.”
Fanar was the private planet owned by Duke Franz of the Empire, known for producing wine from the grape type that the Duke’s late wife cherished most. Consequently, the vintage was often referred to as "the Unending Love," frequently showcased at banquets catering to romantic unions.
Mia, unwavering, titled her head and flashed a playful smile. “Perhaps my brother would prefer to share this toast with you.”
“I have no prejudice against genders,” Heinrich responded, “but I personally cannot accept Alpha-Alphas in relationships.”
Mia shrugged casually, “Then how about sharing this drink, Major? Care to indulge?”
After a short pause, Heinrich lightly tapped his glass against hers. “My honor.”
From his expressionless face, it was hard to tell where the honor lay.
“I’ll be graduating from the Capital Military Academy in June,” Mia chimed amiably. “I’ve already submitted my application to the Military Department.”
“And what branch are you considering?” Heinrich probed disinterestedly.
“Being a true Beta, I figured I might apply to become your administrative secretary,” Mia replied cleverly, “I wonder if the Major would approve.”
Prior to the expedition, Heinrich's administrative secretary was gravely injured on a mission, and replacement was hastily filled by a male who had taken a suppressive agent. Facing intense mental stress during a jump, the drug failed, prompting a heat spike. The Omega, it turned out, was the young son of the head of intelligence, and the Military Department managed to control the situation with minimal outside knowledge.
Heinrich eyed Mia, his tone flat. “That joke isn’t funny.”
“Seems you truly don’t joke,” Mia discerned the line and chose not to push further. Unlike her brother Leo, Heinrich's military accolades were self-earned. Despite Leo’s assertions that chance created heroes, Heinrich was the one who encountered and capitalized on opportunity. “I’m going to the Treasury,” she assured sincerely.
Heinrich offered a few clichéd congratulatory remarks, each one laden with formality, adhering strictly to social etiquette. It was amusing yet exasperating for Mia, who reflected that it had been much easier when she was less in the public eye. Back then, even her more austere approach felt more genuine than the current requirement to navigate between superficial small talk and acknowledgment.

Chapter 3

Mia felt a twinge of disappointment, but she quickly composed herself. She and Heinrich von Romain had known each other since childhood due to their parents’ relationships, which meant she was well aware of Heinrich’s personality. She understood that the Alpha in front of her held only a protective fondness for her sister, not any romantic feelings.
The opening dance was merely a formal obligation tied to their social standing.
Mia, determined not to waste his time any longer, gracefully lifted her skirt in a curtsey. Heinrich responded with a gesture to his chest, an act both casual and disciplined, subtly widening the space between them.
After the gala, Heinrich stepped into General Winslow's hovering vehicle.
“Darling, we’ve received word that your match has been successfully confirmed,” Hannah said as she activated the air purifier in the vehicle, instantly replacing the lingering scent of alcohol with fresh air. Removing her military cap revealed her light blonde hair twisted into a braid, and her eyes sparkled with warmth. “I'm glad you won’t have to be single until you're thirty.”
General Winslow loosened his tie and unbuckled the buttons on his formal jacket. Heinrich was a mirror image of him, but while Heinrich exuded a sharp precision, the general carried the calm maturity of a seasoned man, a dignified gift from the passage of time. In front of Hannah, his demeanor was gentle, lacking any oppressive authority. He replied, “Although your mother and I are prepared.”
Heinrich stood at attention, calmly accepting their teasing. Years of experience told him that at this moment, it was best to remain silent.
“What can you tell us about the Omega?” Hannah placed her hand on General Winslow's shoulder. “What’s your compatibility percentage? If it’s only sixty, that’s fine; feelings can be nurtured. Heinrich, you should consider your personal feelings seriously. We wouldn’t want you to miss this opportunity.”
Higher compatibility rates typically indicated lower divorce rates, and couples would be more in sync. While the system's primary purpose was to ensure reproduction, Hannah merely wanted her child to find a loving companion, irrespective of gender or status.
“A male named Elliot Carver, employed in the Mech Design and Research Department at the Academy of Sciences,” Heinrich paused briefly, “and he’s twenty years old.”
Both General Winslow and Hannah were taken aback. Hannah exclaimed, “So young!”
Age gaps exceeding twelve years were generally outside the matching parameters, and even an eight-year difference was uncommon. Hannah pondered another issue: “Is he already working at the Academy of Sciences at that age?”
Talent at the Academy was primarily sourced from the Capital Military Academy. The selection for the Mech Design and Research Department was incredibly rigorous, with many candidates failing to meet the standards. The previous generation of G17 mechs were still in operation, and the new G18 Celestial Drive System was still under development. The only successful model was the Hanging Light mech currently used by Heinrich, with most G17 designers well into their fifties. For Elliot Carver to join at just twenty was remarkable.
“Is he of Asian descent? At that age, he should still be completing his third phase of education, right?” Hannah inquired. “What’s his background?”
Heinrich projected Elliot’s data. “He graduated from a second-tier school in Fossy County, and he doesn't hold a diploma,” Heinrich remarked, glancing at the stunning photo of Elliot displayed in the records. “I don’t have clearance for the rest of the information.”
“As for the compatibility…” Heinrich continued, “it stands at eighty-nine percent, enforced by the system.”
General Winslow and Hannah exchanged glances, surprised by both the high compatibility and at the fact that Heinrich, despite his rank, could not access more of Elliot's information. The mystery surrounding the Omega’s identity was compelling.
General Winslow pondered aloud, “Whatever the case, the system has its reasons.” He then added, a bit awkwardly, “Be sure to socialize with him, and after the wedding, come visit for dinner.”
Hannah playfully nudged General Winslow, feigning annoyance at his commanding tone. With a smile, she turned to Heinrich, “Don’t scare him, and don’t give him that cold demeanor of yours. Be a little more gentle.”
As she continued speaking, a cloud of worry crossed her face. She had only one child. Their family was harmonious, and she shared a loving marriage with Winslow, yet Heinrich had developed a disposition that was anything but warm. Ever since he entered military school at fifteen, he had become increasingly withdrawn, focusing solely on his career. After all these years, he hadn’t even experienced a hint of romance; there were hardly any Omegas to be found in military school or the armed forces. “You don’t know how to interact with an Omega. What would happen if you scared him into tears?”
Heinrich quipped, “He’s twenty, not two. How could I possibly scare him?”
“Omegas are more sensitive—you really don’t understand,” Hannah sighed in frustration. “You’re like a rock, completely oblivious.”
“Mother, you are an Omega too. I haven’t perceived your sensitivity in any significant manner; truthfully, that’s a gender stereotype,” Heinrich replied, stating the facts. “If he had such weak mental fortitude, he wouldn’t have secured a position at the Academy of Sciences.”
Finally rebuked, General Winslow lifted his gaze to him. “Your mother is right; what she says goes.” The hovering vehicle slid to a stop, and a mechanical voice announced their arrival. He offered his hand to help Hannah exit the vehicle. “Come to my study.”
Heinrich donned his military cap and saluted.
The two men met in the study, their expressions tense. Heinrich stood rigidly, hands clasped behind his back, his stance impeccable, viewing the general not as a father but as his superiors.
General Winslow was irritated by Heinrich’s demeanor; he had intended to invite Heinrich to sit but swallowed his words instead. It mystified him why his son consistently seemed at odds with him, adhering to an overly formal etiquette that mirrored a ceremonial performance. Both men stood straight, one seated and the other standing, as if in a silent contest of who could maintain a more disciplined posture.
“How do you plan to handle the situation regarding the Intelligence Director's son infiltrating your Guard Legion?” General Winslow's tone was icy. “Such a blunder requires some serious reevaluation of your subordinates.”
“I’ll personally ensure he is brought before a military tribunal,” Heinrich replied. “The Secretary General responsible for selecting administrative assistants has already departed from your Guard Legion, and you are right—it’s time for an overhaul.”

Chapter 4

General Romain cleared his throat, slightly uncomfortable as he shifted the topic. "The expedition went well. The Black Raven Society has evaded capture for twenty years since their breakout from Capital Prison. Your success in eradicating them and securing their members should earn you a commendation."
Hein graciously accepted the praise, murmuring thanks. Military accolades held little value for him now; since Romain held his position, his rank had reached its pinnacle.
Romain felt a surge of anger at Hein’s indifferent response, his expression darkening. "You've been married, and yet you still carry around that miserable face. What Omega could possibly endure that?"
Hein, his blue eyes mirroring Romain's, regarded him calmly. "With your temperament, yet my mother has remained by your side for over thirty years."
Romain struggled against the urge to tell Hein to get out. With an exasperated sigh, he took a breath. "I care for your mother with tenderness. That’s why we’re still in love. Can I expect the same from you towards your Omega?"
Hein nodded in agreement, his expression earnest. "If that’s the case, you needn't worry about how I treat my Omega. I will certainly treat him differently than I treat you." Hein rarely lingered on small talk. "It'll be my responsibility to love him once we're married, and I’m sure I can learn to be gentle. That's probably easier than mastering piloting mechs, so you won’t need to fret about it."
Romain suppressed a grimace, questioning where his parenting had gone wrong. Responsibility can't simply stand in for love. Can it be learned? How can it be compared to piloting?
Weary, he rubbed the bridge of his nose and pointed towards the door. "Get out."
As Hein removed his military cap and performed a casual salute, he replied, "Goodnight, General. I hope you and my mother have sweet dreams."
His boots echoed across the wooden floor as he retreated to his own quarters. The smart home assistant, Liz, lit up as he stepped through the door, its mechanical voice chiming in. "Welcome home, Major. Congratulations on your successful return from the expedition."
Hein stripped off his military uniform with precision, his fingers absently playing with the brass buttons of his white dress shirt. He replied to Liz with a monotonous "thank you."
His "thank you" felt like it came off an assembly line, its tone flat and uniform, even the smart assistant noticed the lack of enthusiasm. Liz, slightly perplexed, inquired, "Are you feeling unwell, Major?"
Hein found the AI's concern tedious and quickly instructed it to enter sleep mode. He was in no mood for piano melodies or mental wellness tips.
His room, seldom occupied since he left home at fifteen, remained spotless and unchanged. Yet due to his profession, finding a stable place to stay had become a rarity; for him, it hardly mattered if he slept in the Military Department's apartment or at home.
Before bedtime, Hein habitually opened his terminal to check for messages. To his surprise, he found a note from Elliot Carver.
His personal channel wouldn't allow basic access unless given permission, but since their mainframe had successfully matched them, their channels had been forced to connect, forming a friendship. Just ten minutes prior, Elliot had sent him a message: "General Romain, hello. I'm Elliot Carver. Do you have time in the coming days? I would like to meet with you."
The message included an address: the top floor of Starry Square Tavern.
Located in the heart of District B7’s bustling commercial area, Starry Square Tavern stood near the Academy of Sciences and the Military Department, boasting a romantic atmosphere with a field of everlasting roses. During his time at Capital Military Academy, it had been a famed tradition for each couple to visit the Starry Square Tavern for their first date after making their relationship official.
Hein contacted Andrei to see if he had any free time. Andrei, slightly perplexed, replied, "Sir, you know better than I do. Aside from the report to the Cabinet, the next week is already filled with meetings and dinner invitations, not to mention, your unmissable training schedule."
Hein texted back, "Elliot Carver asked to meet at the Starry Square Tavern. The Military Department's celebration has been canceled for the day after tomorrow. If the notification's been sent out, please reschedule my training."
Andrei didn’t respond immediately. Ten minutes later, he sent over the reservation for Starry Square Tavern: "We have the entire venue booked for six PM the day after tomorrow. The celebration is off, after all, I can’t bear to interrupt your three-year training streak."
Hein shifted the reservation details into a text for Elliot but paused. After a moment of consideration, he deleted it and typed instead, "Day after tomorrow at six PM, top floor of Starry Square Tavern. Do you need me to pick you up?"
Elliot did not reply immediately, but Andrei sent a text with a polite reminder about date etiquette: "It might be a good idea to bring a bouquet. However, Mr. Carver is quite enigmatic; I can't determine his preferences. Perhaps some White Peonies would be appropriate, as they’re currently in bloom."
Hein tapped his terminal to order a bouquet of White Peonies for the following day. At that moment, Elliot finally responded, "No need, Starry Square Tavern is not far from the Academy of Sciences. Looking forward to seeing you the day after tomorrow. Goodnight."
**[Hein von Romain]:** Goodnight. Sweet dreams.
**[Narration]**
General Romain: How did I end up with this son who wears a perpetual frown?
Hein: If he wears a frown all the time, how did my mother survive living with him for so many years?
"Ten years of being single."
Elliot Carver stayed in the lab for two days and a night. After finishing the nutrient solution he’d taken with him, Adam reluctantly shut off the lab’s power supply.
Elliot didn’t mind; he was simply exhausted. After a quick shower, he emerged in a bathrobe, his shoulder-length damp hair hanging loosely. The moisture clung to his dark robe as he ignored Adam’s repeated requests to dry his hair. He filled a glass with warm water, tread to the balcony’s growing chamber, plucking a few mint leaves to toss in before settling on the carpet with the glass, turning on his terminal to review the recent experiment data.
The results were predictably inadequate, and without the correct data, he couldn’t progress. After finishing the mint water, Elliot munched on the mint leaves, then lit a mint cigarette, feeling the cool sensation fill his chest. He laid back on the floor, his loose robe slipping, exposing his pale skin. Elliot didn’t care, muttering that he wanted to listen to music.
Adam buzzed in response, about to say something when Elliot interrupted, "Just play the music and keep quiet; your silence is the greatest comfort I can ask for."

Chapter 5

“Sorry, sir, I know your request seems straightforward, but I can't accommodate it right now.” Adam's tone was flat and mechanical. “The marriage match application you scheduled was submitted a minute ago, and the central processor has successfully matched you. Congratulations, sir, you're about to embark on a new journey in life.”
Elliot Carver froze for a moment, his hand holding the cigarette box pausing mid-motion. He slowly sat up, fabric pooling around his waist, covering him. Leaning back against the soft couch, he drew a long, narrow mint cigarette from the pack, the white smoke veiling his expression. “Adam, if you want to avoid experiencing formatted pain again, don't joke with me now.”
Adam activated his terminal, and a holographic display emerged in the air, stating the facts plainly. “Sir, this is not a joke.”
Ash from the cigarette fell onto Elliot’s fingers, but he brushed it away nonchalantly, staring at the screen where bright green letters confirmed the match. “When did I submit the marriage match application?”
“Last time you were in heat, you took six suppressants,” Adam explained. “Your request was unreasonable, so I could only submit for the marriage match—it's the only legitimate way to obtain an Alpha. I have recorded a video of the incident if you wish to see it—”
“Okay, I get it,” Elliot interrupted, suddenly remembering the moment, how he had rolled off the sofa in pain, his face soaked in tears, curled up on the carpet begging Adam to find him an Alpha, any Alpha.
He glanced at the clock. “I got matched right after submitting the application.” He swiped down the screen to check details and muttered, “I remember Stefan was matched for two years.”
“The average time for successful matches is one year, but some cases are exceptions,” Adam noted. “Such as you and Major Heinrich von Romain.”
Elliot raised an eyebrow and smirked, unable to hold back. “The guy who's been single for ten years, huh?” He tapped on the match details, carelessly asking, “Who’s my unlucky mate? Is he easy to manage? Does his pheromone smell nice?”
The relevant details flashed onto the display, and Adam reported, “Your match is indeed the ten-year singleton, Major Romain. It's highly likely he's not easy to control, and the pheromone has been encrypted and cannot be accessed.”
Elliot blinked silently.
Elliot's hand holding the cigarette trembled slightly. “Adam, sometimes your humor is really not appropriate.”
Adam looked puzzled as he recorded the data. “Thank you for your feedback. I’ll improve next time.”
Elliot shook off the ashes and stared at the projection showcasing an Alpha’s image—platinum blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, strong features characteristic of old German stock, tall and handsome. The profile filled three panels without even finishing.
After a moment, he said to Adam, “Get your wife here.”
“I'm only a copy of the central processor, so I have no human relationships,” Adam replied.
A buzz resonated as the main processor Eve's emotionless voice filled Elliot's personal terminal. “Good evening, Elliot. You look well, aside from stubbornly not drying your hair.”
“Why was I matched with Heinrich von Romain?” The room’s temperature started to rise as Eve had access to everything; Elliot could not control it as he could with Adam. “Why me?”
“In the Noah's Ark Project, you are the sole surviving test subject. The genetic sequence aligned with Heinrich von Romain when you were created,” Eve stated. “Are you dissatisfied with him? If so, why?”
Elliot stood up and poured water over mint leaves. “I just wanted to find any Alpha to get through my heat; this identity is unnecessary.” He rummaged through the leaves, adding more to the cup. “What’s worse is that this wonderful young man is being taunted by me; it's a bit wasteful.”
“Please don't think so little of yourself. All calculations and data indicate your compatibility is at eighty-nine percent; in every way, you are each other's best choice,” the processor replied. “Heinrich’s physical data is nothing short of perfect, and his abilities are at their peak. He can sustain this for at least fifty years, exceeding your physiological needs during the heat.”
Elliot sighed. “Thanks, I guess.”
The processor continued, “You should proactively arrange a meeting with him.”
“Are you bored?” Elliot chuckled lightly. “Why don’t you just go away?”
“All I do is match for optimal breeding,” came Eve’s cold, detached response. “I created you, and from a human ethical perspective, you could be considered my child. My concern for you is merely a responsibility of a parent to their offspring.”
“Okay, Dad, you can go now.” Elliot replied. “Your duty is fulfilled, I appreciate you arranging my marriage. Now, please leave.”
After finishing the last of his nutrient supplements, he called Adam to place an order for more and headed to his studio on the second floor.
His workspace was antiquated, crammed with vintage paper books, and untouched by any smart technology. As he entered, a musty scent filled the air, a reminder of a space long left undisturbed.
Elliot opened the window, allowing the serene fragrance of the garden and the chill of mint to waft into the room. He pulled out paper and a pen, the soft scraping sound soothing his frayed nerves.
In today's world, writing on paper was outdated due to efficiency standards, but Elliot relished it. The tactile experience of pen on paper grounded him.
Adam slipped into a dormant state. When Elliot hit a wall or found himself stalled on a project, he used this analog method to sort his thoughts. Five hours later, Adam forcefully awakened Elliot's terminal, reminding him he had exceeded his working hours.
The ordered supplements had arrived, and Elliot selected a chocolate-flavored one. Adam resurfaced with another reminder that he should book a meetup with Heinrich von Romain.
Elliot held the nutrient supplement in his mouth and moved to tend to his white roses, instructing Adam to select any message template to send to Heinrich von Romain.
“Sir, your compatibility with Major Romain stands at eighty-nine percent,” Adam noted. “Assuming nothing goes awry, you will likely live out the rest of your life with him. I suggest it would be best for you to send the message yourself.”

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