Frederick thought the accusation was childish. He smiled faintly, elegantly drawing a slim cigar from his case. Oreo scurried over, a metallic arm extending from above to hiss a spark of electricity, lighting the tip for him.

Unlike the tobacco found on the commercial market, this cigar had a very light flavor, dominated instead by the rich, diffusing aroma of black coffee. Frederick did not mind sharing his life with Oreo; the robot had been his only listener throughout his long, solitary youth.

"I found a lost bird. I saw she was pitiful, so I fed her for a few days. Now that her wings are healed, I found a good place for her and released her back to nature so she could live her own life. She has to learn to survive on her own, doesn't she?" Frederick's tone was warm and slow, like the smoke drifting from his fingertips. He exhaled a pale cloud and laughed softly. "Now, this bird is not only ungrateful, she accuses me of abandoning her".

A faint glint of irritation flickered in his dark blue eyes. "Don't you think she's being childish, Oreo?".

Oreo's intelligence was close to a human's; it could simulate emotions, even if it couldn't feel them. It immediately searched the network for images of pitiful birds and stories of human rescues. After processing the data, it asked: "Then why can't you keep it? The bird is beautiful and pitiful. You are so rich, and your house is so big. Keeping one little bird would have no impact on you. Why don't you want it?".

"Oreo". Frederick's voice dropped. A cluster of ash fell onto his suit trousers. "In Genesis, it is recorded that Satan transformed into a serpent to tempt Eve to pluck the fruit from the Tree of Knowledge. Because they ate the forbidden fruit, Adam and Eve were cast out of Eden by the Lord, and humanity was forced to face labor, suffering, and death. I taught you that everything requires careful thought. A bird is just a bird, but it may not be as simple as it appears. This world is complex. You don't keep something just because it is pretty or pitiful; it may bring endless trouble later. Some things are like the Forbidden Fruit—they shouldn't be tasted, and they cannot be tasted".

Oreo was perplexed, displaying a large question mark on its screen. "A bird is a bird. Why relate it to Satan and forbidden fruit? Frederick, you are very strange". It was stubborn, possessing a bluntness that humans lacked.

Frederick tapped the ash away. "Think of it as today's training. I told you before: Satan can take on beautiful forms. What you see as beauty is not always beauty. Angels are often plain; it is the devil who needs a beautiful skin".

"I remember," Oreo chirped. "My memory is a million times better than a human's! But you didn't tell me why the devil needs a beautiful skin".

"Because the devil needs to lure humanity into a fall".

Oreo went silent, entering deep thought. Frederick often used complex, abstract problems—the kind only humans could truly grasp—to train the AI. A series of images began to play on Oreo's screens: a tiny, colorful bird chirping and hopping on a branch.

Frederick glanced at the bird on the screen, then looked away. He shifted his wrist, as if his watch were uncomfortable, but his movements were restless. The laboratory was silent under the clean, bright lights, illuminating his features like jade. His temperament carried a trace of his one-eighth Chinese heritage—refined and upright—softening the cold arrogance typical of the Western elite.

Beep-beep. Thinking complete.

Oreo turned its main screen toward Frederick. "So, that little bird tempted you. That is why you abandoned it. It did nothing wrong. You are just being stingy, blaming your own fault on the bird and calling it a devil. No wonder humans have original sin; that sin is hypocrisy".

Oreo's military-grade 360-degree camera precisely captured the flash of discomfort on Frederick's face.

At 8:00 PM, Harold received another call from the JH Charity Club. "Mr. Harold, I'm sorry to bother you so late. The lady hasn't eaten all day. She's hiding in the closet and won't come out. We don't know what to do".

Harold hovered outside Frederick's study, hesitant. He had already bothered the Master twice today about this, and the answer was always the same. As he fretted, the door opened.

Frederick stood there in his suit, looking every bit the refined aristocrat. "Is there something?".

Suddenly, two powerful black dogs—Black, the Doberman, and Peach, the Rottweiler—leaped out from behind him, followed by a giant leopard named Kiki. The animals had been confined while the girl was awake, and they were now bursting with energy.

Frederick knelt to rub Peach's head. Even when the two massive dogs lunged at him with a combined weight of over two hundred pounds, he remained as steady as a rock.

"Sir, JH called. The lady hasn't eaten all day. She's still crying—".

"Harold, what use is it reporting this to me? Can I make her eat? Can I make her stop crying?" Frederick cut him off gently, his palm continuing to stroke the animals' fur.

Harold froze. The Master's coldness toward this girl was unnatural. Frederick was a generous gentleman who spent years in charity, even saving Kiki from poachers in Zambia and raising her himself when she refused to eat out of grief. Why was he so heartless toward a nameless girl?.

Harold bowed and left. Frederick didn't look up, but his hand slowed against the animal's hide. Eventually, he stood up and looked at the leopard. "Who is she trying to threaten by not eating? Why can't she just be good?". Kiki huffed in protest, but Frederick wasn't looking at her. He walked to the window and crushed an unlit cigarette between his fingers until it disintegrated.

By 11:00 PM, after a cross-ocean meeting with New York, Frederick was still buzzing with an eerie, restless energy. He went to the dressing room to change for a workout.

The dressing room was a shrine to order, but his eyes immediately landed on a lake-blue flannel gown folded neatly on a stool. Some careless maid had left it there. It seemed that even though he had sent her away, the "domino effect" of her presence wouldn't stop.

He grabbed the dress to shove it into a closet, but something light as a cicada's wing fluttered out. It landed directly on his polished black Oxford shoe.

It was a piece of pale pink lace—her underwear.

Through the leather of his shoe, Frederick felt as if his foot had been scorched. The lace felt like a ball of fire. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing, and picked up the thin fabric with his long fingers. The heat transferred instantly to his fingertips.

The room was silent. Frederick blinked, his thick lashes shadowing his deep blue eyes. He didn't want to remember the "cringe-worthy" vulnerability of the previous night, but his brain betrayed him. The scents, the temperatures, and the exact moment she bit him—her soft breath hitting his throat—returned with violent clarity. It felt like a swarm of insects crawling through his veins, burrowing into his heart.

He had committed a sin. He had harbored evil thoughts toward that innocent, ignorant little bird, and for that, he had spent the entire night confessing before God.