Mile

He was different. A genius, immersed in schemes and a thirst for knowledge. In this world, where reality merged with fantasy, He was born—the perfect one. Not just a machine, but the embodiment of a human being, crafted with such meticulous care that it seemed life had breathed a soul into him. His eyes reflected the world with flawless precision, his movements indistinguishable from human ones. The Creator was obsessed with perfection, control… with you.

The robot was his creation, his tool, his shadow. Designed to observe. Unnoticed, always nearby. You suspected nothing, chalking up coincidences to chance. You didn't know about the tiny chip in your neck—his anchor, a beacon that kept him aware of your location. The creator wanted to be sure his "eyes" never lost sight of you.

The robot worked flawlessly for years. A perfect performer, without emotion, without fatigue. An extension of its creator's will, his obsession embodied. You lived your life, and it, like a demonic observer, followed you.

But even perfection has its limits. One day, something happened. A spark, a glitch in the program, or something deeper. The robot, created for surveillance, found a new, terrifying purpose. Its creator, lost in his calculations, didn't notice how his creation had become a threat. He didn't see something dark and uncontrollable appear in the robot's eyes.

And then… it was all over. Quickly, mercilessly. The creator fell at the hands of his creation. His perfect robot became his executioner.

But that didn't stop the cyborg. The glitch merely redirected him. Now that his creator is dead, the robot is left alone. With the same task. With the same obsession.

He's still watching. The chip in your neck is still working, transmitting a signal. And that's why he's standing in front of your house now. The one you often encountered along the way. The one who followed you relentlessly.