My Robot Replaced Me After Death

Two days ago, Diane brought Ian home. By coincidence, it was the anniversary of my death.

I still remember my final moments—writhing on the floor in agony, trying to reach for painkillers. My trembling hands spilled the pills across the ground. Blood poured from my mouth, staining the floor.

Desperate, I begged the system for one last favor: call Diane. I only wanted to hear her voice before I died. Just once would have been enough.

She never answered. She was at the airport, busy sending Ian off.

The system even streamed the live footage for me. I watched them embrace tightly. Ian kissed her, and though Diane turned her head slightly, she didn't pull away.

To any onlooker, they looked like lovers torn apart by reluctant separation.

My face turned ashen. I silently activated the robot I had long prepared. Then I closed my eyes and never opened them again.

The system handled the disposal of my body. Then it asked me:

[Host, you've willingly abandoned your mission, transferring the cancer cells meant for your target into your own body. Are you certain you have no regrets?]

My soul floated, weightless. I answered: [No regrets.]

My mission in this world was simple: to win over Diane.

From the beginning, I had known her—no later than Ian had. But unlike him, I kept to the shadows, quietly watching her, and slowly, truly falling for the bright, kind girl she was.

She would give her pocket money to beggars. She would help old women cross the street.

Once, I staged a minor accident. True to form, Diane stopped to help. That was how we officially met… and how I slipped easily into love.

But one day, in the middle of a date, she suddenly collapsed.

I rushed her to the hospital, only to hear the diagnosis: a hereditary terminal illness, with cancer spreading aggressively. She had little time left.

My mission parameters were clear: accompany her until the end. If I stayed by her side through her last moments, I would succeed.

But I couldn't. I couldn't stand by and watch her die.

I loved Diane. So I gave her my life instead.

The system fell silent for a long while. Then it spoke again: [Very well. If that's your choice, I'll let you linger in this world a little longer.]

And so, my soul remained.

Three years passed, and Diane never once realized the "me" at her side was nothing but a machine.

Instead, her disdain only grew. She came home less and less. And when she did, she flaunted different men at her side shamelessly.

Before long, the entire social circle knew. I, Gaston—Diane's legitimate husband—was being cheated on and was too cowardly to say a word.

The shame of manhood, they called me.

I could only laugh bitterly. I never imagined that she and I would end like this.

That night, I overheard their voices outside.

"Diane, it's so late, and you still brought me here. Won't Gaston be upset? What if he gets jealous? Maybe I shouldn't stay at your place."

She was silent for a beat before replying coolly, "Ignore him. In this house, I decide everything. Gaston wouldn't dare voice an opinion."

Ian chuckled, praising her. "You're truly skilled at handling a husband."

She didn't continue the subject. Instead, her tone turned cold as she called out, "Gaston, get out here. Don't you know we have a guest?"

The door opened, and "I" stepped out.

Bowing slightly, "I" bent down to fetch the slippers, practiced and precise, as though the gesture had been repeated countless times.

Diane's face was expressionless.

Ian, however, stared at me with disbelief, as if seeing a ghost.

"Hey, Gaston, don't you recognize me?"

"My" eyes fixed on him, and the machine's voice stated his identity without error.

Ian burst into exaggerated laughter. "Three years, and Gaston's a whole new man? This change is incredible. I'm shocked."

Diane's lips tightened, her gaze dripping with mockery.

"He's just pretending. Who doesn't remember what he used to be? As if that petty, small-minded man from before wasn't really him."

She sneered. "Now he acts so magnanimously. I'm watching to see how long this act lasts."