The anti-grav lift ascended with a gentle hum that did nothing to soothe Neville’s heart.
’I’m dying,’ Neville thought, trying not to groan out loud. ’Shelly, is there a skill in the System Mall for instant recovery? Or maybe ti reversal? I’d like to go back and slap myself for impulsively moving... and think of another way to help Alia.’
[Host, you’re being a little dramatic.] Shelly replied. [There’s so Earth energy drink in the System Mall, want to buy so? (◕‿◕)✨]
Neville just sent Shelly a miserable look.
’Never mind,’ he muttered. It would only make him more aware of the train wreck he was in.
"Huh, what happened to you?" a familiar voice called.
Neville straightened. "Good morning, Ms. Ackley," he said, forcing a polite smile. Judging by her frown, he must’ve looked worse than he thought.
"Don’t ’good morning’ when you clearly haven’t had one." Iris gave him a once-over, then flicked her gaze toward Mick’s office, then back at him. "The young master hasn’t arrived yet. Co with ."
Before Neville could respond, Sarah popped out at Iris’s shoulder like a bubbly ghost.
"Oh my!" she exclaid, running towards him and cupping his face with both hands. "You look absolutely terrible!"
Then, as if rembering sothing, she rummaged through her bag. "I ant to give it to you later, but—here!" She pressed a bottle into his hand.
Neville stared at the bottle, then at Sarah. "An electrolyte solution? Why not an energy booster?"
Sarah’s grin lit up her whole face, practically demanding praise. "I saw Goelet give you an electrolyte solution before, instead of boosters. So I figured this works better for you!"
The re ntion of Ethan made Neville’s shoulders tense instinctively, as though bracing for impact. His body still rembered the countless petty sches, even when his mind tried to dismiss them.
’Damn this body and its muscle mory,’ Neville thought irritably. ’How can it hold onto a trauma my brain won’t even recognize? I want to file a complaint!’
[Host, your body’s stress responses are actually quite healthy! It shows you haven’t completely dissociated from physical reality despite your transmigration! (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)]
’Yeah, right. Healthy for reminding that this world’s a nightmare for ogas like ’, Neville scoffed.
"Hope?" Sarah’s voice cut through his thoughts. Both won were now looking at him, their expressions shifting from concerned to outright worried.
"Did that incompetent imbecile overwork you again?" Iris demanded, her tone sharp enough to suggest that if the answer was yes, Bryan might find a mountain of complaints on his desk.
"I’m fine, really," Neville said quickly, lifting the bottle and taking a sip to buy himself so ti. The cool liquid soothed his stomach, clearing his mind. "Thanks for the concern. How are you these days?"
The won exchanged a look. They knew he was trying to change the topic, but they didn’t call him out. They briefly chatted about the latest happenings in the secretarial departnt, but Neville could still feel their concern lingering, even as the topic changed.
As ti passed and they were still the only ones in the departnt, Iris finally couldn’t hold back. She leaned against a desk, arms crossed, and muttered, "How can soone be that incompetent?" more to herself than to him.
Sothing in Neville snapped. His face was twitching uncontrollably despite keeping it as still as possible.
"Right?" The word escaped before he could stop himself.
His voice dropped to a whisper, a polite smile plastered on his face, as though his politeness was the only dam holding back a flood. His aura practically blazed with suppressed rage.
"I haven’t even managed to handle the important cooperation docunts properly. They literally handed materials from their company and expected to do all the research without any baseline information. No charts, no departntal breakdowns, no standard operating procedures—nothing."
The smile finally slipped into a scowl. "Not to ntion, I don’t know a thing about their company beyond what’s publicly available on StarNet. I barely know anything about any companies besides Maxwell Corporation, to be honest."
Sarah’s smile turned wary, seeing Neville lash out like this. It was like watching a usually docile pet suddenly bare its teeth.
"Must’ve been rough if you’re saying this much," she said carefully.
"Just do what you can," Iris advised, her eyes flicking toward the elevators as more employees began trickling in. "They’re the ones who wanted this cooperation. They can handle a few errors on their end if they’re not providing proper support."
But the world seed to have a sick sense of humor and chose this exact day to prove Iris wrong.
"What excuse are you going to make for yourself now, Mr. Hope?"
Mick Hewitt’s smug voice cut through the morning like a blade. Killian followed at his side, silent, a neat stack of mory chips balanced in his arms.
"I apologize, Mr. Hewitt," Neville said, maintaining his polite smile in place by sheer force of will. "Due to certain information discrepancies and access restrictions, I wasn’t able to complete the task to the best of my abilities."
It was corporate language at its finest: an apology that wasn’t an apology, an acknowledgnt of imperfection that shifted the fault to external factors. Any reasonable person would have nodded and moved on.
Unfortunately, Mick had never been a reasonable person.
"That won’t do." He leaned forward, invading Neville’s personal space.
The move was so sudden and aggressive that Neville instinctively rolled his chair back a few inches. Mick’s thick, horrible pheromones assaulted Neville’s sensitive nose. Neville could see the predatory satisfaction in Mick’s eyes, the look of soone who had cornered easy prey.
"Your job," Mick continued, his voice dropping into a husky register that might have sounded seductive to anyone else but him, "is to be my temporary secretary for the duration of this cooperation. If you can’t do that much... Why am I keeping you around?"
If you don’t give proper resources, how can I produce proper results?! Neville scread inwardly.
Out loud, his tone stayed calm and asked, "What would you like to do, sir?"
Sothing in his tone must have pleased Mick, because his smile widened in a way that made Neville’s skin crawl.
"I have a banquet tonight," Mick said, straightening up but not stepping back, still looming close uncomfortably. "It’s a two-night affair at the Staredison Gwesty on the north. You only need to bring yourself... and a few changes of clothes."
Every alarm bell in Neville’s head started ringing.
"I want you to co with ." Mick’s tone made it clear this wasn’t a request.
"I can’t, sir," Neville refused instantly—polite, firm, desperate.
The sheer thought of being trapped in the sa building as Mick for two days made his stomach churn.
The smile dropped from Mick’s face, twisting into sothing uglier. "What?"
"I said I ca—"
Before Neville could finish, a hand clamped over his mouth at a surprising speed. Fingers dug into his cheeks, muffling the rest of his words.
Killian had moved without a sound. His grip was steady, iron-willed, and his eyes curved as he smiled—not with warmth, but with sothing pleasing and cruel at the sa ti.
"He said he will co," Killian said in a pleasing tone to Mick, as though smoothing over a misunderstanding. Then his gaze turned down to Neville next to him with a grim smile.
"Right?"
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