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

Sometime after their naked business, Chronos began to dress up, straightening his shirt with his usual expression.

"What now?" Pete asked, buttoning his own shirt.

"I need more information from our guest in the basement." Chronos’s voice hardened. "There are still pieces missing."

"Don’t worry about it, I’ll handle her for you." Pete said as he patted Chronos’ head, "You can move on the other lead."

Chronos gave Pete a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "This is why I love you."

Of course, Pete wouldn’t just let him go like that and kissed him on the lips one last time with warmth flickering in his eyes. "I love you too."

"See you later~" Chronos said as he blew a flying kiss to Pete on his way out.

Pete watched the door shut, shaking his head.

Then, he was alone again.

He stood there for a moment, allowing himself one small smile before his expression settled back into its usual calm neutrality.

There was a lot of work to be done.

Pete’s gaze was stone cold as he walked towards the basement.

But at least, a piece of the puzzle has finally fallen into place.

○●○●

The door to Room 4410 slid open with a soft hiss, and Neville stepped inside his apartment.

He kicked off his shoes at the entrance and called over his shoulder, "Make yourself at home!"

Without waiting for a response, he beelined for the kitchen. His mind raced through his mental inventory of the refrigerator’s contents, mentally recalling what he had on hand and what he could whip up on short notice.

He couldn’t risk Grayson seeing that he was taking something out of nowhere.

The high-tech kitchen gleamed under the soft overhead lights, its molecular gastronomy units humming quietly in standby mode.

Grayson entered a beat later, the mysterious box he brought from the Mecha Research Institute tucked under one arm. He paused at the threshold, his eyes sweeping across the apartment.

Despite having been here before, there was always something new to catch his attention.

The floor-to-ceiling glass overlooking the city reflected the distant shimmer of Xylos’s twin moons, casting a soft glow across the living area.

But it was the kitchen that drew his gaze.

Every time he visited, Neville’s kitchen seemed to have sprouted some new gadget, ingredient, or mysterious contraption.

Today was no exception.

The countertop had an array of familiar and unfamiliar vegetables.

Grayson recognized Solanum and bundles of Apium, but there were several containers of ingredients he didn’t recognize at all.

"What do you want for dinner?" Neville asked as he yanked open the refrigerator. The cool air rushed out as his eyes scanned the shelves.

"Anything filled with meat." Grayson set the box on the table in the living room and leaned against the kitchen island, arms crossed.

The posture was casual, but his eyes tracked Neville’s every movement while the other remained blissfully unaware of it.

Neville hummed thoughtfully, pulling out various containers.

They hadn’t eaten anything particularly heavy throughout the day—just snacks and light refreshments. The last thing he wanted was to accidentally upset Grayson’s stomach with something too rich.

Then his eyes landed on the package of Somyeon noodles he had bought in the System Mall and stored in the cabinet last week on a whim.

Then an idea struck him.

He had been meaning to cook Janchi guksu for a while now. It was a warm and comforting noodle soup that reminded him of late nights back on Earth. Times when he was huddling over his laptop, reading novels he definitely shouldn’t be reading.

But he had never had a good excuse to make it.

Making it just for himself felt too tedious to do. Usually, he just preferred popping something in the air fryer or buying expensive, ready-made food in the system mall if he could afford it.

But cooking it for someone else? This was a perfectly acceptable excuse to eat this right now!

[Host~] Shelly’s voice rang in his head. It felt like she had a smug expression on her pixie fairy face right now. [Just admit that you wanted to cook for him!]

’Mind your own business.’ Neville thought back viciously.

[Sure. (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧]

Neville ignored her and began pulling out ingredients. He noticed Grayson hovering in the kitchen and looking at what he was doing.

The Somyeon was easy enough to explain, Grayson asked. He would just say that it was made from the same flour as ppang, or so the package claimed.

Of course, Neville had no idea what ppang was actually made of in this interstellar era. He had learned long ago that it was better to give vague answers with a confident smile than to reveal the depths of his ignorance about this world’s cuisine.

"What are you making?" Grayson asked, watching Neville move around the kitchen.

Neville’s knife flashed under the kitchen lights, slicing through the Solanum with precise movements.

"Warm noodle soup." Neville didn’t look up from his chopping. "It’s light but filling. Good for the stomach."

"Must be tough doing that alone," Grayson said with concern.

"I’m already used to it." Neville swept the potato slices into a bowl of water to prevent oxidation. "After all, it’s the only way I could eat properly without relying on the nutrient solutions."

Grayson hummed in agreement and asked, "Need help?"

The offer surprised both of them.

Neville was surprised that Grayson offered, while Grayson was surprised at Neville’s exaggerated reaction.

Neville paused, knife hovering over the cutting board.

The image of Grayson standing in his tiny kitchen, chopping vegetables, was almost too absurd to imagine.

"Do you know how to cook?" Neville asked.

"I can follow instructions well." Grayson carefully replied.

It was such a Grayson answer that Neville had to suppress a snort.

"Just... sit. Watch. Don’t touch anything."

Grayson raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. He pushed off from the counter and moved to a stool at the kitchen island, settling in to watch Neville.

If Neville was going to be busy for a while, he might as well entertain himself.

After a while, Grayson moved to the living area, where he remembered the table with a book filled with photos was located.

Grayson settled on the sofa and peered at Neville in the kitchen. Seeing that Neville was still busy, he carefully picked up the album and flipped it open.

Just turning the first few pages, it was already filled to the brim, so it was hard to prevent other photos from falling off.

Grayson pulled out his bag and the physical photos they took. He began taking out the photos they had taken today from his bag and searched for an empty spot to put them in the book.

He barely managed to find one section without anything on it and was about to add the photos when he turned the page and froze.

A familiar face of a man smiled up at him from the album.

It was that person whom he saw with Neville a few times, and Neville mentioned a few times.

Was this Liam Rivera? The one in HR?

Why was Neville still keeping a photo of Rivera here?

Something dark and unpleasant twisted in Grayson’s chest.

His jaw tightened.

Before he could check it was really that man in the photo—or do something stupid like tear it out—the apartment’s door chimed.

"I’ll get it," Grayson called out, grateful for the distraction.

He set the album down with perhaps more force than necessary and strode to the door. The delivery drone hovered outside, its cargo bay opening to reveal a crate.

A massive crate.

By Earth standards—not that Grayson knew Earth standards—it would have been equivalent to two full crates of beer.

Grayson hefted it easily and carried it inside. He had one eyebrow raised as he asked, "Why did you order so much?"

Neville glanced up from the stove, where he was now pan-grilling slices of pork belly. The sizzle and aroma of cooking meat filled the apartment.

"To celebrate." Neville simply said.

"Celebrate what?"

A grin spread across Neville’s face with a little smug expression.

"My victory. And your loss."

Grayson blinked. Then a chuckle escaped him, low and warm. "You’re going to celebrate that victory to this extent?"

"Of course! It was my first time defeating a general." Neville flipped the pork belly with practiced ease, too pleased with himself. "That’s absolutely worth celebrating."

"A former general," Grayson corrected, with amusement deepening in his tone.

"Still counts."

Grayson shook his head, still chuckling, and moved the crate to a spot near the couch. His gaze drifted back to the photo album on the table. He put it back to its original state and tucked it under the table

He sat on the sofa while deliberately looking away.

Now wasn’t the time.

In the kitchen, Neville finished the pork belly and plated it alongside the noodle soup.

On impulse, he had also thrown together a batch of potato fries—or as close to French fries as he could manage with Solanum. The result was slightly purple-tinged fries that tasted surprisingly authentic.

For drinks, he had prepared two tall glasses of sage-infused khe citrone juice—the interstellar version of lemonade.

The yellow star fruit-shaped citrus provided both a palate cleanser and a refreshing counterpoint to the richness of the meat.

Neville loaded everything onto a serving tray and carried it to the living area.