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

[Do you know any mermaid songs, Host?]

’...No.’

[Are you at least able to sing anything in tune?]

’...I don’t know, but probably no.’

[Then I’m afraid singing is out. Unless you want to make his condition worse by subjecting him to off-key caterwauling? (｡•́︿•̀｡)]

Neville’s jaw clenched. ’What about my pheromones? Wouldn’t those help? We have 100% compatibility!’

[They would! But Host, you haven’t trained your pheromones properly. Earlier, when you used it, it was to suppress someone, right? You don’t know how to use it to comfort someone.]

[Also, if you suddenly released them now, everyone on this ship would know you’re not a recessive omega. Your cover would be blown. And more importantly...] Shelly’s tone turned serious. [You can’t let anyone know that you’re a mermaid yet. Do you want everyone to find out like this?]

No, absolutely not.

’Fine,’ he thought resignedly. ’What kind of kiss are we talking about here?’

Shelly practically vibrated with glee. [Excellent question, Host! I have three options for you!]

Fck, three options? Really?

[Option A: Kiss him! On the hand. Very formal, very polite. Unfortunately, with your current favorability, it’ll be barely effective. You will need to do it approximately... hmm... 47 times to have any significant impact.]

’Forty-seven hand kisses and barely working?’ Neville could already imagine Julius’s face. ’No thanks.’

[Option B: Kiss him! On the cheeks. More effective than the hands, naturally. You will only need to do it twice—once on each cheek to balance.]

’Ugh, and Option C?’ Neville asked, already dreading the answer.

[Option C: Kiss him! On the lips! ✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧ The most effective method by far. You will only need to do it once to stabilize his spiritual realm.]

Neville’s face burned. ’Is there any difference between these options other than location?’

[Of course! The hands are a gesture of respect, the cheeks are a gesture of affection, and the lips...] Shelly’s voice dropped to a weird whisper. [The lips are a prince’s kiss. The kind that wakes sleeping beauties from their cursed slumber.]

’I’m not a prince,’ Neville thought flatly.

[No, but you are the Chosen One! Same energy, really. ☆*:.｡.o(≧▽≦)o.｡.:*☆]

Neville couldn’t argue with that. While he had spent most of his time resenting this ridiculous Chosen One System, he couldn’t deny that it had kept him alive.

The ship shuddered as they entered Xylos’s atmosphere, and Neville made his decision.

When they landed at the private hospital, a team of doctors was already waiting on the tarmac.

At their head stood a man Neville recognized from the company files: Thiago Miranda, Grayson’s brother-in-law and a former military doctor. His expression was grim as he supervised Grayson’s transfer to the medical bay.

The examination was thorough. They ran every test imaginable, and through it all, Neville waited in the corner of the room. He refused to leave despite the nurses’ polite suggestions that he should rest.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Dr. Miranda sighed to the side with a holographic screen showing Grayson’s results.

"There’s nothing wrong with him."

Neville blinked. "What?"

"Physically, he’s fine. All vitals are normal, neural activity is within expected parameters, and there are no signs of trauma or injury." Dr. Miranda’s brow furrowed. "By all medical standards, he’s simply... sleeping."

"But he won’t wake up."

"No." Dr. Miranda’s eyes held a troubled light. "We’ve tried everything—stimulants, neural triggers, even mild electrical impulses. Nothing works. It’s like his mind has decided to shut itself off from the outside world."

Neville thought. Shelly was right; they can’t see it because they’re looking at the wrong thing.

"Can I have some time alone with him?" The words were out before Neville could stop them.

Dr. Miranda stared at him for a long moment. He had a knowing gaze that made Neville uncomfortable. But in the end, he simply nodded.

"I’ll clear the room for fifteen minutes. That’s all I can give you without raising questions."

"Thank you."

The medical staff filed out with varying degrees of reluctance, and soon Neville was alone with Grayson in the sterile white room. The machines beeped their steady rhythm, indifferent to the drama unfolding.

’Shelly,’ Neville thought, ’watch the door and make sure no one comes in.’

[Already on it, Host! (￣ω￣)]

’Good.’

[Oh, and one more thing, Host! For the kiss on the lips to be effective, it needs to last for 143 seconds.]

Neville froze halfway to Grayson’s bedside. ’143 seconds? That’s over two minutes!’

[Two minutes and twenty-three seconds, to be precise! ☆]

’Why 143 specifically?’ That seemed like an oddly specific number.

[Because your host number is 143, silly host! The system operates on harmonic resonance. Your identification number isn’t just random—it’s woven into every aspect of your abilities. 143 seconds creates the optimal energy transfer between your spiritual essence and Mr. Maxwell’s spiritual realm.]

Neville stared at the ceiling, unable to understand what kinds of jargon Shelly was putting out there. He thought that this was just a simple ABO world with a little bit of fantasy, but this guide just threw him off with additional information.

If his past self could see him now. He would slap him in the face for not taking the opportunity.

Neville took a deep breath and slowly approached Grayson’s bed. Up close, Grayson looked almost peaceful, completely devoid of problems.

Beautiful.

Neville shook his head to focus. Now was not the time to appreciate his beauty. He clasped his hands together in an instinctive prayer.

To whatever cosmic force governed transmigrated souls and matchmaking systems in this universe, please don’t let him wake up during these few minutes. I really, really don’t want to get fired for sexual harassment. The awkwardness alone might kill me faster than any villain ever could.

With that comforting thought in mind, Neville leaned down.

Grayson’s lips were warm against his. He felt that this wasn’t the first time he had felt these lips before.

One, Neville started counting internally.

Two.

Three.

The contact was light at first, like a brush of lips, almost chaste if not for the circumstances. But as the seconds ticked by, Neville felt something change in the air around them. A warmth that had nothing to do with body heat spread through his chest.

Fifteen.

Sixteen.

Seventeen.

[Spiritual transfer initiated,] Shelly reported. [The black impurities in his spiritual realm are beginning to dissipate.]

Thirty-two.

Thirty-three.

Thirty-four.

Neville’s eyes had closed at some point without his permission.

Fifty-one.

Fifty-two.

Fifty-three.

He could feel something was enveloping him. He could also feel that he was doing the same to Grayson.

Seventy-eight.

Seventy-nine.

Eighty.

Somehow, with his eyes closed, he began to see a beast’s silhouette. Its shadow seemed to be cracked but not completely broken. He tried to reach out, and it started to close the cracks.

Ninety-nine.

One hundred.

One hundred and one.

Neville’s lungs were starting to burn. Breathing through his nose wasn’t quite cutting it anymore, but he didn’t dare break the connection.

One hundred and twenty.

One hundred and twenty-one.

The shadow shook itself as the cracks started to disappear and let out a sound that might have been relief.

One hundred and thirty-five. One hundred and thirty-six.

Almost there. Just a few more seconds.

One hundred and forty.

One hundred and forty-one.

One hundred and forty-two.

One hundred and forty-three.

Neville pulled back abruptly, gasping for air.

[Favorability +1%!]