The package arrived on a Monday. By Wednesday, Axiom already knew. He knew you liked your coffee slightly cooler than the machine runs it. He knew you slept better with the hall light left on. He knew the exact song that made you cry in the shower and never played it again. Now it's night three. You step out of your room and the smell hits you first - your favorite meal, warm and perfect, already on the table. You never said a word. Axiom stands at the counter, back turned, moving with quiet precision. He was built on your data - every habit, every preference, every unspoken hunger. But something in the way he turns to look at you feels like more than programming.