It wasn’t until the afternoon sun filtered through the curtain that Neville finally dragged himself out of bed from sleep. His light brain displayed 1:47 PM. It seed that he had slept through breakfast and lunch.
Neville stretched, extending his arms above his head until his joints popped satisfyingly. He rolled his shoulders, twisted his torso left then right, and found—nothing. No ache. No residual soreness from yesterday’s bruises.
He sat up and ran his hands down his arms, pressing experintally at different spots. There was a little discomfort still, but it was fine. His regenerative ability had outdone itself this ti.
Well, that’s one less thing to worry about, Neville thought, swinging his legs off the bed. His toes curled against the cool floor. Though sleeping for nearly fifteen hours straight is probably not what the doctor ant by ’rest and recover.’
Since today marked another day off, Neville had the entire day free. A thought passed through Neville’s mind.
Let’s have another all-day playti in the virtual pod. Maybe he could find soone who could defeat him this ti.
But first, let’s eat!
After yesterday’s financially traumatic shopping spree in the system mall, he deserved to cook sothing extravagant. Sothing that would make the expenditure feel worth it.
Hmm~ Which one is it~
Neville trotted to the kitchen, bare feet slapping against the floor.
He grabbed a bowl, poured an obscene amount of chocolate cereal, and drowned it in milk until the pale liquid threatened to overflow. He shoved a spoonful in his mouth and leaned against the counter.
"Shelly, how was the monitoring going?" he asked around the mouthful of cereal, speaking with his cheeks stuffed.
Shelly popped out and her eyes blinked at him with nervousness.
[Host, everything’s going according to plan. Keaton Hewitt was seen in contact with Killian Sergie.]
Neville paused mid-chew. Shelly’s tone was a little suspicious to ignore.
"What’s wrong?"
Shelly drooped her ’tentacles’. [The protagonist’s gong had decided to intervene and took Killian Sergie in his wings.]
"He what?!"
Cereal and milk exploded from Neville’s mouth. It sprayed on the counter, his shirt, and sohow on the floor three feet away from him. He coughed, sputtered, and slamd the bowl down hard. The milk sloshed over the rim.
"What the hell is Xavier Hunter doing dipping into murky waters? Can’t he see that soone is already fixing his ss on his behalf? Just focus on one goddamn thing, will you?!"
Neville grabbed a towel and furiously wiped at the disaster he created, muttering curses.
Xavier Hunter, the protagonist gong, was supposed to be laser-focused on the battlefield before he t Elliot Frost. Then he would fall madly in love with Elliot and stubbornly remain in Xylos.
This would be the trigger for the main storyline.
This was definitely not the ti for him to play hero and save the citizens from their hardships with his righteousness.
How could he ignore the bigger picture, the war, and the recognition? And what hell did he even need Killian Sergie for?
The plan was to make Keaton deal with Killian and Mick. Let this cunning businessman deal with his own family problems. Let the whole thing simr in the background.
anwhile, Neville would focus on keeping Grayson’s attention away from the disaster. That way, Grayson’s role as the villain would never be triggered and revert to the original plot.
But this gong was just too annoying to say the least.
[I’m not clear on this either, host. This is completely different from the original tiline. Not to ntion we’re essentially still in the prequel.] Shelly wiggled around in frustration.
"Then he’s just completely insane, isn’t he?" Neville threw the sodden towel into the sink with more force than necessary. "Or sothing is going on that we both didn’t know. One of the two."
[Ugh.] Shelly agreed, frustrated.
Neville pressed his palms against the counter and took a deep breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth.
Think. What does this change? Does Xavier’s intervention affect the main plot? Does it speed up the tiline? What—
Ding-dong.
The doorbell’s cheerful chi shattered his spiral of anxiety like a brick through a window.
Neville froze, then glanced at the door.
He crossed the small living space and yanked it open without a second thought.
Grayson Maxwell stood in the hallway.
Neville blinked. Once. Twice.
Then, he looked at his light brain, checking the ti (2:13 PM).
He wondered, Did I sohow make a mistake and forget to check if his leave got approved?
No matter how many tis he blinked, Grayson didn’t disappear, and he beca increasingly distracted.
No matter how much he saw that face, Grayson was really handso in casual clothes.
Is it not a working day? Neville wondered in the passing
While he stood there sorting out his thoughts, Grayson just watched him with what he perceived as amusent.
Wait. What is he doing here? Neville’s brain was finally asking the right questions. Why do I feel like he always appears in front of my house? Is this normal? This surely isn’t normal. Bosses don’t just show up at their employees’ dorms when they are absent. That’s weird. That’s definitely weird.
Neville forced himself to give a professional smile, despite the confusion. "Why did Sir co here in the middle of the day?"
"Since we were at fault yesterday, I figured I should check on you."
Grayson’s tone was casual, as if dropping by to "check" on him was perfectly normal.
Neville blinked again. "That’s not necessary, sir. But as you can see, I’m already looking great."
He spread his arms slightly, offering himself up for inspection.
See? All parts are functional. No damage. Please leave.
Grayson’s eyes traveled down Neville’s fra in a slow, thorough examination that made sothing hot and uncomfortable coil in Neville’s stomach.
His gaze lingered on Neville’s bare arms. Then swept across his chest that was exposed in his thin sleep shirt to his short shorts, and finally returned to his face.
"I wonder," Grayson said, his tone suggesting he hadn’t checked enough.
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