[BL] Transmigrated as the Villain CEO's Mermaid Secretary Chapter 17: Snitching

The afternoon light stread through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Maxwell Corporation, reflecting on the walls and glass of the office.

From a corner office strategically positioned to observe both the CEO’s suite and the entire secretarial departnt, Bryan could observe the whole office.

He prided himself on a few things, but on top of all that was his almost supernatural talent for slling drama long before it curdled into a full-blown scandal.

It was a more valuable skill than the morbid jokes he used to make the board of directors squirm. It was far more entertaining than pasting a poker face on his face like a second skin all day long.

With a flick of his wrist, holographic screens shimred to life before him. His custom algorithm was already filtering the endless stream of employee chatter, flagging keywords.

Most days, it was a tedious feed of the usual: breakroom romances, debates over the best mix of nutrient solution for an extra energy boost, and the usual departntal whining.

Gossip was the lifeblood of any corporation, and Bryan drank it down like fine wine.

But today, a disturbing pattern erged.

Whispers of missing files, misplaced docunts—a string of problems were too frequent to be a coincidence.

A slow, dangerous smile touched Bryan’s lips. But his eyes, fixed on the data, sharpened.

This wasn’t just gossip.

This was the kind of rot that could bring a division to its knees.

Great.

He pulled up the incident logs, cross-referencing them with employee access records. His fingers moved with practice across the holographic keyboard.

In less than a minute, a single na ca up from the chaos: Neville Hope.

Bryan knew Neville, of course.

The unassuming newcor, the one who looked more like a lost college kid than a rising talent. Yet, the boy had managed to impress everyone with his competence and personality.

Bryan’s observation of him, however, had started on day one. It had less to do with Neville’s skills and everything to do with the strange behavior of their CEO, Grayson Maxwell, whenever the kid was near.

And now, the quiet, talented boy’s na was at the center of a brewing storm.

Office politics were a predictable beast, and jealousy was a common currency.

Bryan had seen it all.

What was surprising was how the Secretarial Departnt had, for the most part, shielded Neville from the worst of it.

Sarah, a senior administrative assistant, might be an airhead, but she was a competent airhead. This airhead has just taken the young man under her wing.

Even Iris, the office’s resident supervisor, was silently tracking the escalating situation, hiding her movents from everyone. Bryan respected her for this.

Still, respect didn’t change the data.

Bryan’s fingers stilled over the holographic interface as he parsed the incident logs. The digital footprint was damning.

Seven cases of misplaced files. Twelve instances of corrupted data that "magically" resolved themselves when Neville located the correct version. Four complaints about deadline confusion.

This wasn’t incompetence. This was a narrative, carefully crafted to fra the newcor as both an incompetent and a savior.

It was clumsy. Insulting, even.

His thoughts were cut short by a soft chi from his terminal. A ssage, marked urgent and confidential, from the devil himself: Neville Hope.

Bryan’s interest, already piqued, ignited. He opened the encrypted file. Among the files that were sent, there was a request at the end. It was simple, typed out with what he could almost feel was anxiety.

"Need to discuss a confidential matter. Your office. Tomorrow, the end of the shift?"

A slow smile spread across Bryan’s face, taking on a decidedly sharp edge. The prey was asking to walk into the spider’s parlor.

"How interesting," he murmured, tapping back a simple, one-word confirmation: "Approved."

Leaning back, the gears in his mind turned with chilling speed.

The security protocols were absolute. Each sensitive file was encrypted, locked to an employee’s unique QR ID, requiring a physical scan to access.

For Neville to have access to docunts so far above his pay grade... it was impossible for him to do it alone.

This ant Neville wasn’t the ghost in the machine. He was the puppet. And soone else—soone with high-level clearance—was pulling the strings.

Whoever was orchestrating this pathetic little drama had made one critical, amateurish error. They hadn’t just targeted a quiet newcor. They had made a ss in his garden. They were disrupting the delicate ecosystem of information that he had so carefully cultivated.

The afternoon sun was beginning to dip, painting in hues of orange and gold.

Bryan stood, straightening his suit cuffs. A grim, predatory smile touched his lips. He wasn’t striding towards Grayson Maxwell’s office with a problem.

He was going with a warning and a solution.

...

Ding!

A notification blood in Neville’s peripheral vision, sleek and satisfying.

[Favorability 1%]

Good, Neville thought, a ghost of a smile on his face. The bait was taken.

The pre-dawn chill seeped through the building’s climate control. Neville had caught the earliest anti-grav lift, arriving a full two hours before the weekend zombie employees. The halls of Maxwell Corporation were haunted only by silence and the soft glow of ergency lighting.

He had spent last night running through a dozen scenarios.

[Host, what do you think we’ll find at this odd hour?] Shelly’s giggling voice echoed in his mind. [Corporate zombies? Ghosts in the nutrient dispensers?]

’Let’s hope not,’ Neville replied playfully. ’The living ones are trouble enough.’

The doors to the Secretarial Departnt slid open with a whisper.

And he stopped.

The vast, open-plan office wasn’t empty. A figure was hunched over his workstation, caught in the long shadows stretching from the windows.

For a heartbeat, neither of them moved.

In that frozen mont, Neville saw it all crystal clear. Ethan’s hand hovered milliters above his quantum computer’s power scanner, poised to act.

So, it was Ethan. Neville had suspected him, of course, but he hadn’t expected the man to be this... blatant.

It was almost disappointing.

A guilty flush burned across Ethan’s face. His eyes, wide with shock, darted toward the exit, a cornered animal calculating its chances.

"Ethan." Neville’s voice was remarkably soft, yet it cut through the silence like a shard of glass. "You’re in early."

The transformation was fascinating. The raw panic in Ethan’s eyes vanished, replaced by a practiced, pleasant smile that was a size too small for his face. "Neville! God, you scared . I was just—"

"Just...?" Neville took a slow step forward, letting the silence hang in the air, forcing Ethan to fill it.

The smile faltered. "Just checking on your computer."

"Oh?" Neville tilted his head, his expression one of mild curiosity. "Why?"

Ethan’s mask of concern clicked firmly into place. "I heard you’ve been getting random files sent to you. I know our official transfers are secure, so I figured your terminal might have a glitch. Thought I’d take a look before anyone from IT got their hands on it."

He shrugged, a gesture ant to look helpless. "You know your reputation with the other departnts right now. If they checked it and found nothing, who’s to say they wouldn’t... plant sothing?"

"I see." Neville’s reply was flat, offering nothing.

He walked past Ethan and took a seat at his desk, forcing the other man to stand there awkwardly.

With a sidelong glance, he added, "That’s very thoughtful of you, Ethan. But be careful."

Ethan’s fake smile twitched.

Neville’s voice dropped to a low whisper. "If people see you helping this much, they might start pointing their fingers at you, too."

Ethan’s expression tightened. "Thanks," he muttered, the single word clipped and sharp.

He turned and walked away, his pace just a little too fast to be casual.

Neville watched him go, then turned to his dark screen.