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

[SYSTEM WARNING: System Guide "Shelly" has been set to MUTE for the duration of the current quest.

Reason: Unauthorized disclosure of restricted information.

Duration: Indefinite.]

He repeatedly read the contents of the system notification.

Shelly’s mouth kept moving for a full second before she realized no sound was coming out. Her bright pink eyes went wide, hands flying to her throat, shell-patterned dress fluttering as she stumbled backward.

Neville had felt a cold prickle at the back of his neck.

Set to mute for bragging too much? No, that wasn’t quite right. The system didn’t care about bragging.

Shelly must’ve been muted for divulging something. Was it something about the bracelet’s spiritual properties that apparently crossed a line?

Spiritual stabilizer. Passive spiritual channeling. Help soothe...

Soothe what?

And then a memory resurfaced of something Shelly had mentioned before when Grayson had been unconscious. She said that he needed to kiss Grayson to carry a spiritual something because there was something happening in Grayson’s spiritual realm—

As he was connecting dots, a bloody spiral of a black hole appeared behind Shelly.

Crimson chains erupted from nowhere. It was a thick, blood-red link of something that pulsed, seemingly alive.

It wrapped around Shelly’s tiny body so fast that Shelly couldn’t even scream as her eyes widened. She managed to thrash around, with her mouth open, ready to scream.

Neville’s stomach dropped to the floor.

"Shelly—!" He reached out in a hurry, lunging toward her.

But the chains yanked Shelly’s body and jerked backward, dragged her brutally.

For one fractured second, Shelly looked at him with an expression he had never seen on her face before.

Utter fear.

Then the portal swallowed her whole, collapsed inward like a dying star, compressed to a hair-thin line of red, and vanished.

Silence.

Neville stood motionless for a long time, his hand already closed around the bracelet tightly.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Neville ordered a black velvet box on the system mall, and it sat on the kitchen counter.

Neville stood across, hair still damp from the bath. He had been staring at the box for the better part of ten minutes now, arms folded as he processed the last hour of his life.

Shelly was gone.

Not gone gone—at least, he hoped not.

Neville opened the box and looked at it again.

The bracelet was really beautiful.

Too beautiful to be a weapon.

Too beautiful to be a chain.

But that’s exactly what it was.

When he tried to put it in his inventory after Shelly’s disappeared, a description had materialized below it in crisp system text:

[Pearl Harmony Bracelet (Grade A)]

Once the giver’s blood is applied, the bracelet bonds to the wearer. The bracelet self-adjusts for optimal comfort and cannot be removed by any external force. Only the owner of the bonding blood may release it.

Neville had read that description three times, each time further souring his expression.

This is Witchcraft.

How could a bracelet adjust to fit a person’s wrist perfectly, be comfortable, invisible under a sleeve, and as natural as skin? Also, unless Neville himself decided to remove it, Grayson wouldn’t be able to take it off.

That was nuts.

A hidden shackle disguised as a lover’s token.

How romantic, Neville thought flatly. The system really knows how to set a mood.

But he couldn’t deny the timing and usefulness of it right now.

The quest required Grayson to wear it for a continuous period. If Grayson could just take it off whenever he wanted, the quest would be at the mercy of the man’s whims.

Neville exhaled.

He needed to stop thinking about why the bracelet worked and focus on the fact that it needed to be on Grayson’s wrist by the end of the day.

The quest timer was ticking. If he didn’t put it on Grayson’s wrist today, the remaining wear-time wouldn’t be enough to fulfill the completion conditions.

He picked up the bracelet, pricked his thumb with a needle, and pressed it against the lock of the pearl bracelet until it drew a single bead of blood.

He watched the lock absorb it without a reaction. No glow, no fanfare. Just a quiet, hungry little drink.

Since nothing was for certain, he put it back in the inventory to check if it was a success before taking it out again.

Then he retrieved the black velvet box, the dark fabric making the white pearls practically glow by contrast.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Maxwell Corporation Headquarters.

Neville walked the corridor toward the executive floor with the velvet box tucked inside his jacket pocket.

The secretarial department was quiet when he arrived. Sarah was out handling a logistics meeting, and Iris was buried in her console reviewing reports. She glanced up long enough to give him a nod before returning to her data streams.

Neville settled into his workstation inside Grayson’s office and placed the black box on the desk in front of him, half-hidden. He could see Grayson himself leaning back in his chair while Bryan stood on the other side of the desk. The two of them were deep in conversation over something projected from Bryan’s light brain.

Work stuff. Good.

That meant Grayson was occupied, which meant Neville had a few minutes to gather his courage and figure out how to hand the man a piece of jewelry without it being weird.

They were dating. It shouldn’t be weird.

People in relationships gave each other gifts all the time.

This was normal. Completely normal.

So why were his palms sweating?

Neville wiped his hands on his trousers under the desk and glared at the velvet box.

You had eaten tons of BL contents, and you’re nervous about giving your boyfriend a simple bracelet?

Get a grip.

The minutes crawled. Bryan’s voice was an indistinct murmur through the glass, punctuated by occasional brief responses from Grayson.

Neville reorganized his desk twice, checked his schedule three times, and was halfway through pretending to review an already done file when the office door finally opened.

Bryan went out with his trademark poker-face smile firmly in place.

"He’s all yours," Bryan said pleasantly as he passed Neville’s desk.

Neville blushed a little before deciding to stand up.

And then Grayson’s light brain rang.

Neville could only pause on his tracks.

He watched as Grayson glanced at the caller ID, and something in his expression changed, frowning a little. It seemed that it wasn’t that bad, just annoying.

Grayson answered.

Neville hovered by his desk, one hand in his jacket pocket, fingertips brushing the velvet box.

But Grayson looked up and saw him standing there. He gestured with two fingers—come over. The motion was casual, unhurried, carrying the implicit assumption that the call wouldn’t take long.

Neville approached Grayson’s desk with the box hidden behind his back.

"—didn’t say I wasn’t coming, Helena. I said it was on short notice." Grayson said as he leaned back in his chair, one arm draped over the armrest, silver eyes fixed elsewhere. "Within this week? You could’ve given me more than two days’ warning."

The voice on the other end was female, clipped and direct—military through and through. Neville couldn’t hear the exact words, but the tone was unmistakable.

She was saying, I’m telling you, not asking you.

Grayson’s jaw worked. "I’ll be there. I—"

He paused, then glanced sideways to Neville. His expression changed again—this time into something more complicated. A flicker of reluctance, followed by the quiet resignation of a man who had been outmaneuvered.

"They want to meet him? I’ve already heard about that a thousand times before." Grayson said, more to Neville than to the light brain. Then, back to the call: "Fine. I’ll bring him."

More words from the other end.

Something about two days, the usual spot.

"Understood. Two days." Grayson ended the call with a tap and let his hand fall to the desk.

The silence that followed had weight.

"Just as you heard," Grayson said, watching Neville with an unreadable expression. "Helena and the others want to meet up before she ships back to the frontlines. Apparently, since they’ve already met Iris, they want the full set."

He looked at Neville, reading his expression. "So. Are you coming?"

Neville’s mind raced.

Meeting Grayson’s friends meant bracing himself for the scrutiny. It meant being measured against standards he didn’t fully understand, by people whose loyalty to Grayson was forged in a world Neville had never set foot in.

"Sure," he said.

Grayson’s mouth curled up.

Then Grayson shook his head, the smile turning wry. "If not for work..."

"If you want to go out and get wasted, you’ll need to clear more off your plate before then," Neville finished, stepping closer to the desk. "Two days isn’t much runway."

"I suppose not," Grayson said bitterly as he opened his workload, already mentally reorganizing his schedule.

Neville decided that this was the perfect opportunity and cleared his throat to get Grayson’s attention.

"So," Neville said, "as an advance reward for all the extra work you’re about to put in—"

He brought the black velvet box from behind his back and set it on the desk between them.

Grayson’s hand froze over his console. His gaze dropped to the box, then lifted to Neville’s face, then dropped back down.

"What’s this?"