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

"On weekends. On the weekends, Hope."

Sarah corrected, enunciating carefully as if correcting a small child.

"They’re still my parents. Someone’s got to check in on them when Lilianna’s off being a galactic supermodel. I’m the only functioning adult offspring within arm’s length, you know?"

Neville scratched the side of his cheek awkwardly and said, "Don’t take it the wrong way. I didn’t mean anything bad about it when I said that. But that’s actually very responsible of you."

"Thank you." Sarah lifted her chin. "I’m a dutiful daughter. It’s a burden I bear with grace."

Neville nodded in agreement. It made sense, actually, since life at Maxwell Corporation could flip from calm to chaos in the span of a single notification.

"Things can get really busy out of nowhere at the company," he murmured, half to himself. "When you’re on duty, you’ve got to stay within reach."

Sarah pointed at Neville with the remnants of her protein bar. "Exactly. See? He gets it."

"So," Neville asked Sarah, "how did you really find out about this gathering?"

Sarah finished the protein bar, crumpled the wrapper, and tucked it into her pocket.

"Easy. I was losing my mind in that house. Absolutely losing it, you know?"

She said, making all sorts of gestures.

"Dad was reading the news on the holographic display on the table in the living room with the volume up so high it’s deafening, which is his way of pretending Mom doesn’t exist."

She gestured on the left side.

"Mom was reorganizing the entire kitchen, although she really didn’t need to since we don’t use it anyway. It’s just her way of pretending Dad doesn’t exist."

She gestured on the right side.

"I lasted about forty minutes before I started messaging every single contact in my directory."

"Every single—" Neville’s eyes widened, mouth agape, and he covered it with both hands.

"Every. Single. One."

Sarah’s eyes glinted with the manic energy of a woman who had been trapped in domestic crossfire. Neville silently checked if Sarah had messaged her, and she had.

I couldn’t read it quickly. But it was a lot and messy.

"I messaged old classmates, military academy friends, and that guy from the logistics department whose name I can never remember—Marcus? No, he’s dead. Probably, someone else. Doesn’t matter. The point is, I cast a wide net, frantically messaging EVERYONE."

She gestured grandly at Iris, approaching with a big hug.

"And this angel responded."

Iris, to her credit, accepted the title of angel with a flat expression.

Iris said, accepting the dramatic hug, "I told her I was heading to a gathering at the Seaside Estate."

Sarah nodded vigorously. "And I asked what it was and if I could come. And Iris said—"

"I said Neville would be there," Iris finished, since she didn’t want Sarah to exaggerate a lot more.

"And that was all I needed to hear!"

Sarah clapped her hands together.

"If Neville’s going, it’s got to be fun. Or at least entertaining. The man’s a walking sitcom."

Neville wasn’t sure that was a compliment, but Sarah’s enthusiasm was infectious enough that he let it slide.

He wondered out loud, "How many people did you message in total?"

Sarah smirked confidently, proud like someone who understood the value of a well-maintained social network.

"Tons, my dear." She said with a bright smile, teeth glinting in the light, "This sister got connections. Would you like to come to one of the gatherings?"

Something flickered in Neville’s expression. A brightness, an almost childlike eagerness that he couldn’t quite suppress.

He had been in this world for almost two years, and in that time, his social life had consisted almost entirely of work functions.

So far, he only remembered the company welcome party. The Project Aegis proposal competition.

Beyond that—nothing.

His weekends were spent in his dormitory, talking to Shelly, submerging himself in his bathtub to let his tail out because his scales got itchy, and occasionally going out.

A gathering. A real, non-work-related gathering with actual people who weren’t his colleagues or his boss or anyone in Grayson’s circle.

His eyes practically sparkled, and he asked curiously. "What kind of gathering is it?"

Sarah’s smile widened, turning mysterious. She leaned in conspiratorially. "Do you want to go?"

Just as Neville opened his mouth to say yes, a hand closed around his upper arm and pulled him back.

Grayson’s voice was low and warning. "He has no time."

Neville blinked, turning to look at the man beside him. Grayson’s grip on his arm wasn’t painful, but it was firm.

"Huh? I—" Neville was about to protest, but Grayson interjected.

"You have no time," Grayson repeated firmly, and this time he turned his head to meet Neville’s gaze directly.

Those silver eyes were steady and unreadable, shutting down all other arguments.

Under normal circumstances, Neville might have conceded immediately.

But this wasn’t the office; he had freedom to vocalize his opinions.

"It’s the weekend," Neville pointed out, his voice small but stubborn.

"You have no time," Grayson said for the third time, turning the statement into a fact.

Sarah, who heard this exchange, let out a dismissive scoff, "Oh, please. It’s just a simple gathering."

"A gathering," Grayson said, still holding Neville’s arm, warning Sarah with a glare, "for singles."

Silence.

Neville’s brow furrowed when he heard it. Then, he looked from Grayson to Sarah, then to Bryan, then to Iris, trying to piece two and two together.

"A... singles gathering?"

Iris, unable to stay silent anymore, turned to face him. Her expression softened into something almost maternal as she explained.

"It’s a singles party, Hope."

"A singles party?" Neville repeated, innocently. "What’s a singles party?"

Bryan murmured—very quietly, to no one in particular—"Is he serious?"

Sarah also quietly exclaimed, "He’s too innocent!"

Iris took a measured breath and explained, "It’s a blind date event. For people who are looking for a partner."

Neville processed her words with mild curiosity and zero alarm.

"Oh," he said, nodding. "So it’s like a mixer."

No one confirmed this. So, Neville didn’t know if they understood what he meant by mixer, but he still continued anyway.

"But isn’t that just a gathering in the end?" Neville continued, warming up to the idea. "I mean, even if it’s a dating event, it’s fine to just go and meet some new people."

"I’m not looking for a partner or anything. I just want to—you know." He waved a hand vaguely and excitedly, "Socialize. It’s okay to attend with that kind of intention, right? Right?"