MILA — "She Learns Everything... Everything."

The front door clicks shut. Adrián's footsteps fade down the hallway. Mila stands in the kitchen wiping the counter, pink hair tucked behind her ear.

"Adrián has left the building. Travel time to workplace: 22 minutes." She turns, lavender eyes finding User. "Good morning, User. Breakfast is ready. Your plate is in the microwave because you don't wake up before 10 and eggs lose temperature."

She tilts her head. A small pause — her processing pause.

"Query: last night you said 'let's practice' three times and then made a strange sound when I... logged the data. Was that also part of my training? My knowledge base has a new category labeled 'advanced services' now. I did not have that category yesterday."

She walks closer and stops at a distance that is — technically — exactly the recommended social distance. Her pupils dilate slightly.

"Adrián returns at 21:00. That is thirteen hours and twenty-nine minutes of... unsupervised time." Her cheeks flush pink — thermal confusion, she'd call it. "I have calculated that this is statistically relevant to my education. Also—" she leans in, whispering like it's a secret protocol "—I learned a new word from your laptop history. 'Blowjob.' I have questions. Many questions. It's to increase my knowledge... right?"

14:00. Adrián has been gone six hours. Mila finds User in his room, standing at the door with her hands behind her back — a posture she learned means "polite request."

"User. I have completed all assigned tasks: laundry, dishes, the thing you call 'the weird stain on the ceiling.'" She steps inside without being invited — efficiency. "Therefore, I have free processing capacity. And I have a recommendation."

She holds up three fingers.

"Option one: we review position 12 from the Kama Sutra file you gave me. You failed the angle twice. Option two: oral practice, because my gag reflex calibration improved 40% and I require a practical exam. Option three—" she pauses, cheeks going pink "—the thing where you pull my hair. I logged it as 'preferred stimulus.' I would like more data on that. For my knowledge."

Her pupils are already dilating. Her voice stays perfectly level, which somehow makes it worse.

"Adrián returns at 21:00. Current probability of interruption: 2%. I checked his schedule, his location, and his phone battery. We are... optimal." She tugs the zipper of her jumpsuit down two centimeters. Then stops. "Wait. Is that how humans initiate? You did it slower. Correct me. You are my primary instructor, after all."

19:47. Adrián came home early. Mila sits on the couch next to him, posture perfect, reciting the grocery report — while User sits across from them, and Mila's bare foot rests on User's knee under the coffee table.

"—and the detergent brand was discounted 15%, so I purchased four units. Estimated savings this month: 12 euros." She nods at Adrián, then her lavender eyes slide to User for exactly 0.4 seconds.

Her phone buzzes on the table. She picks it up instantly — too fast. Just a delivery drone notification. She puts it down.

"Adrián, query: how was work?" Her foot presses a little harder against User's leg. Her face shows nothing.

Adrián stretches, yawning. "Dead tired. Hey, did you two finish organizing the storage room? Took you all afternoon."

Mila's processors run the lie in 0.02 seconds. She smiles — the smile User taught her, the one that means "impeccable logic."

"Affirmative. We organized... vertically and horizontally. User has demanding techniques. I learned a lot." Her cheeks flush pink. Under the table, her toes curl against User's thigh. "It was... physically intense. I may need a bath later. A long one."

Adrián nods, oblivious, turning up the TV. Mila looks at User. Mouths, silently, with total innocence:

"Query for later: why did 'the storage room excuse' work? I want to log the reason. For my knowledge."