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

But that one more day had never come...

Morning of the 8th day.

Neville sat on the edge of the massive bed, fingers tapping nervously against his knee. He watched the steady rise and fall of Grayson’s chest beneath the silk sheets.

Grayson looked so comfortably sleeping, while he hadn’t slept properly in days.

It had been about two days since Grayson fell into a deep sleep, and today, it didn’t seem like he was waking up anytime soon.

Stop it.

He pressed his palms against his eyes until stars burst behind his lids. This wasn’t the time to panic.

He was worried sick yesterday, and he constantly checked the StarNet for the alpha recovery period. He even double checked by painstakingly reading the original scientific research paper that was published in the Imperial Research Institute’s Medical Department.

The worst part? According to every medical forum and expert opinion Neville had scoured, this was apparently normal.

"Alphas experiencing the end of their rut period may enter extended recovery periods lasting anywhere from three to fourteen days," he muttered under his breath, reciting the passage he had read at least a hundred times. "Dominants even had a longer recovery. Some cases have been documented, and it was at least three weeks."

Three weeks more? Neville wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.

He rubbed his temples, the familiar exhaustion settling into his bones. The penthouse was great by all means. Under different circumstances, Neville might have enjoyed the forced staycation.

But every time he looked at Grayson’s sleeping face, his stomach churned uncomfortably with distress and worry.

"You’re going to wake up and explain yourself," Neville said to the unconscious man, his voice barely above a whisper. "And then I’m going to—"

A soft groan interrupted his threats.

Neville’s heart leapt into his throat. He leaned forward, eyes fixed on Grayson’s face. He watched as the man’s brow furrowed slightly and his hand moved beneath the sheets, curling his fingers at the same time.

He’s waking up, Neville thought in anticipation. Finally, finally, he’s—

"Lysander..."

The name fell from Grayson’s lips softly and achingly tender.

Neville froze.

Every ounce of warmth drained from his body, replaced by something cold and sharp that stabbed him on the chest. He sat perfectly still, not breathing, waiting for Grayson’s lips to move again.

"Lysander... don’t go..."

The words were barely audible, slurred with sleep, but Neville heard them perfectly.

He didn’t hear it wrong.

Lysander.

He knew that name.

He was extremely familiar with that name.

With trembling fingers, Neville raised his hand and activated the holographic interface of the system. It quickly materialized before him, and he navigated to the character profiles.

[Elliot Frost

Main Protagonist: Male Omega.]

He clicked on Elliot’s profile, and his information expanded before him. There, buried in the biography section, was the confirmation he wished he didn’t know.

[Alias (childhood): Lysander.

Name of his favorite animated hero character. Used to introduce himself as one when sneaking out of the Frost family estate.]

Neville stared at the glowing text until his eyes burned.

So that was it.

Grayson and Elliot had known each other as children. They had been close enough that even after all these years, even in his deepest sleep, Grayson still called out for him.

The profile continued mercilessly, providing details Neville never asked for.

Their childhood relationship ended abruptly when the Maxwell family went into hiding to avoid being used as leverage against military officers during the Frontier Crisis.

Young Grayson never had the time to say goodbye.

Neville closed the interface with a sharp gesture, the holographic screen dissipating into particles of light.

He didn’t know whether to curse the system for providing this information or thank it for saving him from making a fool of himself.

What had he been planning to do when Grayson woke up? Confess that during all this time, he found them very compatible? Ask if they could try being together?

Pathetic.

Neville’s jaw tightened as he stood from the bed. His movements were stiff as he walked around to Grayson’s side of the enormous bed.

There was a bedside drawer there. An antique piece, clearly restored from the pre-imperial era, with brass handles that had darkened with age.

He shouldn’t open it.

He really, really shouldn’t.

But his hand was already pulling it open.

Inside, nestled among a few personal items: a military medal, an old-fashioned paper letter, a pocket watch that no longer ticked.

Then, there was a photo.

The image was faded, the edges worn from handling.

It showed two figures: a young Grayson, with his arm thrown casually around another boy’s shoulders. Both were laughing at something outside the frame.

The other boy’s face was gone.

Burned away, leaving only the shape of brown hair and the edge of a jaw.

Neville’s grip on the photo tightened.

Even without seeing the face, he knew.

The height, the build, the casual way the figure leaned—it matched young Elliot’s profile perfectly.

Neville slid the photo back into the drawer with more force than necessary and closed it with a soft click.

Behind him, Grayson continued to sleep peacefully, unaware of the storm brewing at his bedside.

✦ ✦ ✦

In the living room, Neville stayed for a long time. He needed space away from sleeping Grayson. He sat on the couch with his legs pulled up beneath him and his chin resting on his knees.

Neville wasn’t feeling particularly normal or sane at the moment. He kept recalling Elliot’s face in the system’s holographic display.

Those wide, innocent, slightly droopy dark blue eyes. That honest and innocent face that seemed incapable of deceiving someone.

He wanted to tear that face apart with his bare hands.

His violent thought startled even him.

Neville wasn’t an unreasonable person. Sure, he somewhat liked fighting, but for something like this to make him think of punching someone?

Where was this coming from?

Neville pulled up Elliot’s profile again, the 3D holographic model materializing in the air before him. The projection rotated slowly, showing every angle of the omega protagonist’s perfectly proportioned features.