The following day, Don woke up early, as was now his custom, feeling the remnants of sleep fade as he rose from his bed.
A quick glance at the clock confird the hour—5:30 AM on the dot. Stretching briefly, he rolled his shoulders and let out a soft grunt. "Alright, let's get this day started," he muttered to himself before heading to the bathroom.
He quickly got his morning routine out of the way and capped it off with the usual jog, which took him through the quiet streets of their neighborhood.
The cool air nipped at his skin as he maintained a steady pace, his breath forming faint clouds.
When he returned, the house was still quiet. The only exception being Winter, who was standing at the stove, busy flipping pancakes with a perfection that could only co from her android nature.
The scent of the warm batter mixed with syrup filled the air, subtly enticing Don as he entered the kitchen.
"Morning, Winter," Don greeted, grabbing a towel off the counter to wipe the sweat from his brow.
"Good morning, Don," Winter replied without looking away from the pan. Her voice was calm, the cadence even as she worked. "Your breakfast is ready."
Don nodded appreciatively before heading upstairs to take a shower. Ten minutes later, dressed in a simple black t-shirt and jeans, he descended the stairs, his damp hair tousled but drying quickly.
Back in the kitchen, Winter remained the sole occupant, focused on her task of cooking. A bowl of oats was neatly set on the counter for Don, steam still rising from its surface.
"Is everyone sleeping in today?" Don asked as he picked up the bowl and leaned against the counter, a spoon already in hand.
Winter turned her head slightly, her pale, emotionless face catching the soft morning light. "Perhaps they slept late," she began in her usual matter-of-fact tone. "Statistics indicate that 72% of family mbers within similar households spend an average of two hours on recreational activities such as browsing the internet or playing video gas before going to sleep. It is highly probable this applies here."
Don chuckled lightly, spooning a mouthful of oats as she spoke. "Makes sense, I guess."
After swallowing, he gestured toward the pancakes with his spoon. "Once you're done with those, could you wake Sumr up? Also, check if Mom's working today. I'd do it myself, but Donald just texted saying we need to hurry if we want to avoid the VR center being crowded."
Winter nodded, her hands moving in an almost hypnotic way as she flipped another pancake. "Of course. Do you have any additional instructions you'd like to carry out while you're out today?"
Don paused, chewing thoughtfully on his oats. His brow furrowed briefly before he shrugged. "Not really. Just do what you feel is necessary—within reason, of course."
"Understood," Winter replied. "That won't be a problem."
Before Don could say anything, the doorbell rang.
**Ding-dong.**
Both Don and Winter turned their heads toward the entryway.
"That must be Sylvia," Don muttered, setting his spoon down. "Ms. Claire's Rolls Royce is one of the few cars I can't hear approaching unless I focus."
Winter tilted her head slightly, as though processing his observation. "Shall I go open it? Husky isn't detecting any threats."
Don raised a brow at this. "Husky can communicate now?"
Winter shook her head. "I synced it to my systems like an external device, in the sa way one might sync a smartwatch to their phone."
"Huh, I see." Don leaned back, nodding slightly before the doorbell rang again. **Ding-dong.** He pointed toward the door with his spoon. "Go ahead and open it."
Winter wiped her hands on a nearby towel and made her way to the entryway. She opened the door to reveal Sylvia standing on the porch, dressed neatly in her school uniform, her usual bubbly deanor radiating as she waved.
"Morning, Winter!" Sylvia chirped, looking up at Winter before asking, "Is Sumr awake yet?"
Winter stepped aside, gesturing for Sylvia to enter. "No, she is not. I was just about to wake her."
Sylvia nodded and breezed past Winter, her movents filled with energy as she made a beeline for the stairs. "It's fine, I'll wake her."
She paused at the base of the stairs, glancing back toward Winter. "By the way, is Don awake? My mom wanted to see him before we leave for school."
Winter, who had closed the door and was already heading back to the kitchen, answered without turning around. "He is awake and currently having breakfast in the kitchen. I shall pass on the ssage."
Sylvia's cheerful expression faltered for a split second, though she recovered quickly. Her disappointnt was fleeting but present—she had secretly hoped to wake Don herself. Masking her thoughts with a bright smile, she called back, "Okie dokie then, I'll go wake Sumr up!"
Her voice carried through the house as she climbed the stairs, humming a tune.
In the kitchen, Don finished his oats, listening to the exchange with mild amusent. He let out a quiet sigh as he tossed his bowl in the sink. "I'll never understand how people wake up so early for school and are still happy about it," he muttered to himself.
Leaving the bowl in the sink, he wiped his hands on a nearby towel. "Well," he murmured, heading toward the front door, "better see what Ms. Claire wants on my way to Donald's."
Stepping out onto the front porch, Don squinted slightly as the soft morning light spilled over the neighborhood. The dew still clung to the grass, glistening like tiny jewels under the sun.
His gaze soon fell on Husky, who was energetically darting around the lawn, behaving as though it were flesh and blood.
Don raised an eyebrow, bearing a faint smile. "Here, boy," he called out, following it up with a light whistle.
Husky's synthetic ears perked instantly, and its head snapped toward Don's direction. With a single excited bark, it bounded across the lawn, its movents uncannily lifelike.
By the ti Don had descended the steps and was standing on the walkway, the dog was already upon him, wagging its tail furiously and jumping up in excitent.
"Whoa, easy there," Don said with a chuckle, reaching out to ruffle Husky's synthetic fur. The texture still amazed him—soft, warm, and eerily realistic. For a mont, he indulged the android's enthusiasm, patting its head and scratching behind its ears.
"All right, down, boy," Don said after a mont, pulling his hand away. Husky imdiately dropped to a seated position, its tail swishing back and forth across the concrete walkway.
"Good boy," Don praised, nodding approvingly. "Now go play… or patrol. Whatever makes you happy."
Husky barked once more, wagging its tail before dashing off toward the edge of the yard, where it resud its aimless yet purposeful antics.
Don then turned his attention to the Rolls Royce parked at the curb. Its polished exterior glead in the sunlight, a subtle but unmistakable reminder of Ms. Claire's wealth.
And beside the vehicle, stood Ms. Claire's ever-present driver and bodyguard.
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