[BL] Transmigrated as the Villain CEO's Mermaid Secretary

Grayson’s eyes cracked open to unfamiliar ceiling patterns dancing in the morning light. His mind felt wrapped in cotton, thoughts sluggish and disjointed as he tried to piece together when he had gone to bed.

The last clear memory he had was... what?

The edges blurred no matter how hard he concentrated.

He lifted his arm, and the holographic display from his light brain flickered to life above his wrist. The date glowed in crisp blue numbers that made his stomach drop.

Seven days.

It’s been seven days?

Grayson sat up slowly, running a hand through his disheveled black hair. His body didn’t ache. No headache throbbed behind his temples. If anything, he felt oddly refreshed, like he had been sleeping for weeks.

What the hell happened?

A chime echoed through his penthouse, the security system announcing a visitor downstairs.

Grayson frowned, pulling up the feed on his light brain. The holographic screen expanded, showing Thiago Miranda pacing in front of the door with a medical bag slung over one shoulder. He had a concerned expression mixed with exasperation.

What was he doing here?

Grayson’s frown deepened as he scrolled through his messages.

There, sent at three in the morning just hours ago, was a text to Thiago: Need you to come by. Something’s off.

He stared at the words. It looked like he sent it. But he had zero memory of sending it or even typing it. Even if he really felt unwell enough, it was even more weird to reach out to Thiago right away without triggering the emergency bot.

But what exactly happened for him to send that message?

The security chime sounded again, more insistent this time.

Grayson pushed himself out of bed, grabbed a shirt from the chair, and made his way downstairs. His penthouse was still clean, nothing out of place. No evidence of a break in or his ’illness’.

He unlocked the door, and Thiago burst in before it fully opened.

"Finally," Thiago muttered, scanning Grayson from head to toe with his eyes. "I’ve been waiting for ten minutes. Do you know how worried I was when you sent that cryptic message?"

"Worried? You mean my sister?" Grayson stepped back, allowing his friend to enter properly. "It wasn’t that cryptic."

"’Something’s off’ at three in the morning isn’t cryptic?" Thiago dropped his bag on the nearest surface. "That’s basically a distress signal."

Grayson opened his mouth to argue, then closed it.

Thiago had a point. He rarely asked for help, medical or otherwise. The fact that he had apparently done so and couldn’t remember made him uneasy, too.

"Sit," Thiago commanded, gesturing to the couch.

Grayson obeyed, watching as his friend pulled out various scanning devices. The gentle hum of medical equipment filled the silence as Thiago worked, his expression changing from concerned to concentrated to increasingly puzzled.

"Well?" Grayson asked when the silence stretched too long.

Thiago sat back, running a hand through his hair.

"Physically? You’re fine. Better than fine, actually. Your vitals are perfect, no signs of poisoning or drugging. There’s also no neurological anomalies detected with standard scans." He paused, meeting Grayson’s gaze. "But that’s what worries me. You send me an SOS message, and there’s nothing wrong?"

"There is something wrong," Grayson said quietly. "I don’t remember sending that message."

Thiago’s expression changed into alarm. "What do you mean you don’t remember?"

"Exactly what I said. I woke up this morning, saw your message, and had no recollection of contacting you." Grayson gestured to his light brain to show his logs.

"None of it?" Thiago leaned forward. "How far back does it go?"

Grayson closed his eyes, reaching for memories that should be there but weren’t.

"The last clear thing I remember is... seven days ago." Grayson pulled out the last logs on his lightbrain to show that it had been seven days since he touched it.

"Seven days?" Thiago’s voice dropped.

"Yes."

"You’ve lost seven days of memories."

"Yes."

Thiago pulled out his light brain, fingers flying over the holographic interface. "Let me check something. Have you reviewed your messages? Emails? Anything from this week?"

He hadn’t, actually. Grayson had been too disoriented by the time gap to check.

"You have military-grade security. Julius would have detected a breach immediately." Thiago’s expression turned skeptical. "You really don’t remember sending this message?"

Grayson stared at it again. Nothing. "I don’t."

As if summoned by the mention of his name, the security system chimed again. Grayson pulled up the feed, and Julius stood in front of the entrance.

Grayson unlocked the door remotely, and Julius entered. His sharp eyes swept the room, noting Thiago’s presence, Grayson still in his pajamas, and the medical equipment scattered on the table.

"His account wasn’t hacked," Julius announced.

Thiago let out an audible sigh of relief and frustration.

"Then why are you here?" He said, pointing at Julius.

Julius moved past Thiago without answering, pulling the data chip from his pocket and offering it to Grayson. He just briefly glanced at Julius and proceeded to insert the chip into his lightbrain.

Files bloomed across the holographic display. A marked map, personnel records, and data, surveillance footage timestamps. His eyes narrowed as he skimmed the contents, pieces of a puzzle he had been working on for months, suddenly falling into place.

He turned to Julius, his expression grave. "Are you sure about this?"

"The location of the research lab is confirmed," Julius said, his voice carrying the weight of absolute certainty. "Hidden deep underground, off the grid. They’ve been operating for at least three years without detection."

"Cunning." Grayson’s jaw tightened as he continued reviewing the files. Layer upon layer of shell companies, false permits, bribes buried so deep that finding them would probably take Julius weeks of digging. "Did they think I’m already dead?"

Thiago was about to laugh it off as a joke, but then his expression changed to horror in the span of seconds. His gaze locked onto a specific point on Grayson’s neck, where the collar of his shirt didn’t quite hide the small black mole on his secondary gland.