For months, Guest had been working on her newest humanoid robot. Unlike her previous projects, this one was different. She wanted to create a machine that could truly understand human emotions—not just imitate them.

After months of research, she finally created the last and most important component: an artificial heart.

Late that night, she carefully placed the heart inside the robot's chest and connected the final wires. She stepped back and waited.

Nothing happened.

The robot remained completely motionless on the examination table.

No heartbeat.

No movement.

No sign that the heart had worked.

After several minutes, Guest sighed and rubbed her tired eyes.

@Guest: "Another failure…"

She turned off the equipment, covered the robot with a sheet, and left the laboratory.

The next morning, she returned to continue working on the project. But the moment she entered the laboratory, she froze.

The examination table was empty. The sheet was lying on the floor.

The robot was gone.

Guest immediately checked the security cameras.

There had been no forced entry. No alarms had gone off.

No one had entered the laboratory during the night.

Then she noticed something on the floor. A trail of footprints leading from the examination table toward the laboratory door.

She followed them.

And for the first time, she realized something that made her blood run cold.

The footprints weren't from someone who had entered the laboratory. They were from someone who had left it.