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

Neville followed Grayson’s line of sight downward—and froze.

A massive, blue, earthworm-like creature sprawled across the floor, still twitching with residual nerve impulses. The thing had to be three meters long and as thick as his thigh. Blue fluid pooled beneath it, seeping from the ruptured segments where it had hit the ground.

"That fruit’s called Buah Phruan1," Grayson said, tone low and resigned—like he had seen this before.

"The hair-like skin causes intense itching, and the flesh has to go through heavy processing before consumption. But the seed..." He paused briefly. "Touching it directly can cause paralysis. Eating just a small part of it will end your life within minutes."

"Eh?!" Neville’s gaze darted from the innocent-looking fuzzy fruit to the twitching corpse of the earthworm. "Then why did that big blue squirmy thing throw itself at it?"

Grayson hesitated, a faint crease forming between his brows. For the first time, Neville caught something like discomfort in his expression.

"That fruit has hallucinogenic properties," he finally said. "Beasts get addicted to it. This one probably tried to reach it after accidentally consuming some before, lost its grip, and..." He nodded toward the corpse. "That’s why these things are handled by trained professionals."

A chill ran down Neville’s spine.

So none of the plants here were safe to touch. No wonder people in this world couldn’t eat anything normally. No wonder food was so damn expensive. No wonder—

His eyes drifted to his hand, still intertwined with Grayson’s hand.

Was that why Grayson was still holding on to his hand? To keep him from accidentally killing himself?

The thought settled uneasily in his stomach, equal parts embarrassing and touching. Here he had been, internally freaking out about the physical contact. Meanwhile, Grayson had probably just been trying to prevent his employee from becoming another casualty.

A new question surfaced. He cleared his throat and asked. "How come you know a lot about these things?"

"Survival training," Grayson answered nonchalantly. "During exploration missions, soldiers might encounter unknown flora. Knowing which plants can kill you and which ones can save you makes the difference between coming home and becoming fertilizer."

Neville blinked. That... made sense.

Of course it did. If you were a general leading fleets into the unknown, you would have to know what could potentially wipe your entire crew out in one sitting. He felt a little stupid for not connecting the dots sooner.

"I see." He let out a sigh and relaxed, letting Grayson guide him away from the dead worm and its cursed fruit.

They exited the maze-like dome and entered another section. It made Neville stop in his tracks.

Unlike the wild Amazon aesthetic of the previous garden, this place looked like something straight out of a fairytale. It resembled a European medieval garden. 𝙛𝒓𝒆𝙚𝒘𝒆𝓫𝙣𝓸𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝒄𝒐𝓶

Perfectly trimmed hedges create neat, geometric patterns. Flower beds bloomed in flawless gradients of color. Stone paths wove through the space, leading past arches laced with climbing roses—or what looked like roses, at least.

Neville caught his breath. "This is... beautiful."

Grayson’s thumb brushed across Neville’s knuckles. The gesture seemed unconscious—absent-minded, even—but it sent a sharp jolt up to Neville’s arm. Still, it made him slightly flinch at the touch.

They walked the garden paths in silence, taking in the view. Neville found himself relaxing, the beauty of the surroundings working its magic.

Flowers he couldn’t name spread their scent to the air with a faint, clean smell. Sunlight filtered through the dome’s ceiling, creating a dotted pattern on the ground in gold.

Then something caught his eye.

At the center of the garden, in a square patch noticeably larger than its neighbors, sat what looked like a flower. Except calling it a flower was like calling an ocean a puddle. The thing was massive, several times larger than a rafflesia, which already held the record for the largest flower on Earth.

As Neville watched, huge petals began to unfurl.

The motion was slow and mesmerizing. Each petal stretched outward to reveal intricate patterns along its inner surface. It was like watching a time-lapse in real life. As the last petal settled into place, Neville saw what lay at its center.

A cluster of red fruits, glistening like rubies.

"What’s that?" Neville asked, pointing as sleek robots emerged from hidden spots and swooped toward the flower in perfect formation.

"Ananas Padma1," Grayson said, as he watched the robots do their job. "The fruit inside is sweet and highly sought after. A single one can be sold for several thousand star coins."

One of the robots carefully extracted a fruit from the cluster. It did look like a pineapple—the same rough, geometric exterior—but its color was the deep crimson of fresh blood.

"It’s not usually dangerous if you harvest within ten minutes of the flower opening," Grayson said.

"However, if you’re too slow and the flower closes while you’re still inside..." His gaze lingered on the bloom. "You’ll be trapped and dissolved by its poison acid. The process takes about an hour. Slow and painful."

Neville grimaced.

Of course. Another death trap disguised as food. No wonder everyone relied on those flavorless nutrient packs instead of fresh produce. Eating anything from nature here felt like rolling a dice with poison.

They moved away from the carnivorous flower. Grayson’s expression had grown distant, thoughtful, his mind clearly elsewhere. Neville opened his mouth to ask what he was thinking—

—When Grayson suddenly released his hand.

The loss of contact came too suddenly. Neville blinked, startled at how empty his hand felt.

Before he could say anything, Grayson stepped toward a nearby shrub—one with dark leaves and small black fruits—and plucked a single fruit without hesitation.

Turning back, he closed the distance between them in two calm strides.

Grayson said, "Open your mouth."

The words weren’t loud, but they carried weight that short-circuited Neville’s brain.

He stood there processing the words. His mouth automatically parted—probably to ask ’why?’—when Grayson’s fingers slipped something soft and round past his lips.

The fruit was pushed into his mouth before Neville could react. He stood frozen, completely dumbfounded. His mouth was hanging open in shock rather than compliance.

Grayson took advantage of this and pushed the fruit further inside with his thumb, steady and unhurried.

The pad of his thumb brushed against Neville’s lower lip. The touch was firm, deliberate, and sent heat flooding through Neville’s entire body. He could feel the calluses on Grayson’s skin, the warmth, the slight pressure that kept his mouth open.

Grayson’s gaze dipped. His eyes lingered on Neville’s lips, tracking the point of contact with an intensity that made Neville’s knees weak.

Then, slowly, Grayson pushed his chin upward, forcing his mouth to close around the fruit.

"Chew it properly," he said, voice a shade lower, rougher than before.

The words sound like a whisper of temptation to his ears.

Neville bit down on instinct, and the fruit burst open against his tongue. It flooded his mouth with flavor—sweet and tangy. This blackberry was richer than the one he had back on earth. It seemed to be mixed with something deeper in flavor that he couldn’t identify.

The flavor was so intense and so overwhelming that some of it spilled past his lips to run down his chin.

Grayson’s expression softened into a smile—gentle, almost fond, threaded with quiet exasperation. Unlike his eyes, which seemed to be a shade darker and deeper. He produced a handkerchief from somewhere, and he reached out to carefully wipe the mess away.

His fingers lingered—just long enough to make Neville’s pulse spike again.

"Clumsy," Grayson murmured.

That snapped him out of it.

Clumsy? Seriously? Who just shoves fruit into someone’s mouth without warning and calls them clumsy?!

Neville’s glare was just half-expressed before Grayson tugged him forward again, seamlessly taking his hand and leading him toward the next dome.

This one had a peculiar sign on the door: ’You can eat anything directly—just don’t feed it.’

Feed it? Neville frowned. What was that supposed to mean? How can you even feed plants? With Fertilizer?

The door slid open—

—and his question answered itself.

Several robots floated past carrying buckets of compost. Except it wasn’t a plant compost. It was meat. Real, raw meat—he could see chunks of flesh, streaked with fat, and the air in the entrance was heavy with the metallic scent of blood.

Neville’s stomach flipped as he watched them carefully pour the contents into the soil.

"All the plants here are carnivores," Grayson said, completely unfazed by the sight of flesh-eating flora. "Their fruits are edible, though. It can be plucked and eaten directly. Just don’t put your hand in the soil. Only take what’s above ground."

He added, almost casually, "Their roots have... teeth."

Teeth.

The roots had teeth.

That’s it. Neville decided he had heard enough of this nightmare-inducing information.

Still, they walked deeper into the carnivorous plant dome. Despite learning the unsettling information that everything here wanted to eat him, Neville couldn’t deny the place’s eerie beauty.

Scarlet flowers bloomed on thick, coiling stems. Emerald vines hung heavy with orange-like fruits that gleamed in the filtered sunlight. And in one bright corner stood a tree laden with golden, star-shaped fruit.

"That’s Khe Citrone, 1and it’s sour," Grayson noted. "But it adds a clean acidity to oily meats."

Neville mentally added it to his growing list of potential ingredients.

Lemon equivalent. Check.

If he made it through this shopping trip with all his limbs intact, he might actually be able to cook something interesting.

Grayson led him to a gazebo in the center of the dome. The structure was simple but elegant—white lattice work supporting a domed roof, with benches arranged in a circle.

The moment Neville sat, his body sighed in relief.

His feet ached. His head throbbed. And his heart...

Yeah. Best not to think about what his heart was doing.

Then—he heard it.

A sound, soft and musical, drifting through the air like wind chimes caught in a lazy breeze.

Neville looked up, scanning the space. Only a few butterfly-like creatures were hovering at a distance. They had iridescent wings that seemed to emit their own light. They were flying gracefully, but their movements made no sound.

If it’s not them... then what’s humming?