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

Three omegas stood between him and the exit, their pheromones curling into a cloying cocktail of artificial florals and sharp citrus notes layered with barely concealed aggression.

Behind them, the soft click of the bathroom door locking from the outside cut off his escape.

"Mr. Hope." The tall brunette purred, every syllable coated in false sweetness. "We need to have a little chat."

Neville’s fingers curled around the strap of his sling bag, his expression smooth. "Can I help you?"

The tall brunette stepped forward with perfectly styled hair and a designer blazer screaming status. Her smile was a predatory flash of white teeth.

"It’s about boundaries."

"I see, I wasn’t aware I had crossed any." Neville kept his voice calm and collected, even sounding innocent. "Perhaps you could enlighten me?"

"Cut the act." The sharp-faced man at her right—emerald tie pin catching the light—let his composure crack like thin ice. "We know what you’re doing with Ethan."

With Ethan? Neville’s mind tripped over the words. He tried to recall every interaction he had with Ethan. What exactly was he supposed to be doing with Ethan?

His genuine confusion must have looked like provocation, because it only seemed to fuel their anger.

"Don’t play dumb," the shorter omega on his left snapped, moving closer, boxing him in.

"Excuse me?" Neville blinked, genuinely thrown off.

"Ethan is ours," the sharp-faced man declared, voice edged like a knife. "He has no time for ambitious nobodies like you."

"I’m afraid there’s been a misunderstanding," Neville said, tone still polite but carrying just enough firmness to make it clear he wasn’t groveling.

"Spare us the excuses," the shorter omega spat. "We’ve seen how you two are always together. How he brings you drinks. How you whisper in the break room—cozying like you’re best friends."

Cozying up to Ethan? Neville nearly laughed hysterically. The sheer absurdity of the accusation ignited anger in his chest. If anything, he had been making a conscious effort to maintain professional distance from him!

"This is for your own good," the tall brunette said, her hand landing lightly on his shoulder but with the weight of someone who knew they had the upper hand. "You’re better off sticking to your own kind."

"Which department—" Neville began, genuinely curious now.

"You don’t need to know that," she cut him off smoothly.

Without another word, they turned as abruptly as they had appeared. The bathroom door clicked open behind them, and Neville caught the sound of muffled voices—guards being dismissed—before their footsteps faded down the hall.

And just like that, it was over.

Then, silence.

Exhaustion washed over him. He was fighting a war on two fronts now, and one of them was full of complete and utter lunatics.

[Well, that was anticlimactic, host,] Shelly said dryly. [The corporate version of middle school mean girls—better clothes, worse personalities. Oh, and I recorded the whole thing in your ’entertainment’ folder.]

"It’s not funny, Shelly." Neville sighed, adjusting his glasses with a push. "Run a trace on those three. I want their names and departments. I want to know which department thinks bathroom ambushes count as professional conduct."

[Already on it! Oh—Host! The alarm just tripped. Someone’s messing with your workstation again.]

A jolt of adrenaline cut through Neville’s fatigue.

Finally, this time, maybe he’d get them caught in the act—and on record.

He moved quickly, his soft-soled shoes silent on the polished floor. As he neared the corner leading to his department, he slowed down.

He looked around—and his stomach dropped.

It was Ethan. He was surrounded by his usual entourage of laughing colleagues. They were heading for the main exit.

"What?" The word slipped out before he could stop it. "Shelly, what’s going on? I thought you said someone was at my desk."

[Based on the system logs, Host, there’s someone who has unauthorized access to your workstation and is currently using it.] Shelly said while checking on her live sensors. [The timing is—suspicious. But logic says—it’s not Ethan.]

"Right," Neville muttered, mind already moving three steps ahead. "If not him, then who?"

Neville didn’t wait for an answer. He rushed back to his station. He broke into a near run, weaving through the deserted cubicles until he reached his own.

The sight made the hair on his arms stand up—it was empty.

His screen was active, but the chair was empty. Files were opening and closing on the screen on their own—like a tiny digital ghost. It clicked open a folder, then another encrypted folder, and began methodically scrolling through his project drafts.

Remote access, happening in real time.

’Shelly, record everything. Full-screen capture. Trace the IP,’ Neville commanded, his voice a low hiss in his mind.

His hands clenched into fists. He may not know who was doing this, but whoever it was, they had just made a mistake. They just gave him strong evidence.

As for Ethan... Neville didn’t know yet what role he played in all this, but a clean hand surely wasn’t one of them.

...

[Oh, Host! Time check—5:47 p.m. The office is already empty, but guess who’s still burning the midnight oil in his office?]

Grayson.

Neville took a deep breath, forcing his hands to unclench. He straightened his tie and smoothed down his shirt. He ran through the lines he had rehearsed and the report he had polished to perfection.

Not to mention, he had an additional one right now.

The first impression might’ve been regrettable, he thought, his jaw set with grim determination. But a lasting impression is what matters now.

...

The executive section was a different world from the bustling secretarial department. The carpet was thicker, the lighting softer, and even the air seemed to carry weight. Most of the senior staff had vanished to extended overtime meetings, leaving behind only the most dedicated—or the most desperate.

Bryan Stewart sat in his mini corner office like a guard outside Grayson’s office. He looked like a well-dressed gargoyle. He had his hands in his pockets, a smile that was somehow managing to feel both welcoming and deeply unsettling.

He was in his work mode. No morbid jokes allowed.

As Neville approached, Bryan looked up from a holographic display flickering above his desk, his expression perfectly neutral. Not a flicker of surprise could be seen on his face. He moved so unhurriedly that it almost looked lazy.

"Mr. Hope," Bryan greeted with a smooth and cool voice. His tone carried that particular dry humor that suggested he knew far more than he let on. "Punctual, as always."

"Hello." Neville greeted back.

He was about to take out something when Bryan cut him off halfway through his movements and said, "Mr. Maxwell will see you now."

The statement sent a subtle chill down Neville’s spine.

"But I didn’t have an appointment," Neville said, keeping his tone as neutral as possible.

"No, you didn’t." Bryan agreed, a flicker of something almost like amusement in his eyes. His smile edged just a little wider, deliberate. "But you did send over a compiled version of five pieces of evidential data detailing corporate embezzlement, cross-referenced three encrypted witness testimonies, and flagged twelve separate instances of server misinformation. I assume you’d prefer to present those findings personally."

Neville’s throat went dry. The small memory chip in his hand suddenly felt slick with sweat.

He had been so careful. But Bryan still knew everything, which meant Grayson probably did, too.

This wasn’t an ambush; it was a summons.

Neville’s smile slipped. "Ehem. Uhmm..."

Bryan’s gaze dipped briefly to the memory chip in Neville’s hand. "Ah. It seems there’s another one?"

Neville straightened his shoulders, finding his footing again. "More than one, but this one’s better. Raw video footage and a full backtrack trace of the remote access."

"Is that so? Impressive." Bryan’s smile didn’t change, but his eyes seemed to assess Neville with newfound interest. His praise was understated, but the way his eyes lingered on Neville made the compliment feel heavier.

He gestured toward a spot precisely three feet from the door. "Mr. Maxwell will see you now."

Something about the way he repeated will see you now made Neville’s stomach tighten. Bryan’s smile deepened by degrees, as if he had caught the reaction and filed it away for later amusement.

[I like him,] Shelly whispered in Neville’s head. [He’s got that ’knows everything and enjoys watching you squirm’ vibe.]

Neville couldn’t help but agree.

[Breathing. You need to breathe, Host] Shelly coached frantically in his mind. [Also, try not to stare at Mr. Maxwell’s forearms. Or his hands. Or the way his shirt inevitably stretches across his—]

Shelly, I swear—

[Shutting up now!] Shelly vanished as quickly as she had appeared.