"Welcome to military bureaucracy. They want results, but not considerations." Dr. Shortle shook his head. "I swear, if they like it so much, they should develop it themselves instead of burdening us with impossible dreams and creating unreasonable deadlines."

Neville listened to this exchange carefully, even as his thoughts raced ahead.

He knew that, thanks to his knowledge of the original timeline, neural sync tube piloting would indeed become the norm within three years. The technology would prove reliable, and the benefits would outweigh the concerns.

But there would be consequences, too.

That was the significant reduction in omega and female beta participation in frontline military service. 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝙚𝙬𝓮𝙗𝒏𝙤𝒗𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝒐𝓶

The full neural sync placed different demands on different body types, and the future standard wouldn’t favor everyone equally.

Still, that was the talk for the future, and he couldn’t say anything about it.

"The technology is new," Dr. Shortle explained when Neville refocused on the conversation. "Most mechas aren’t even equipped with neural sync capabilities yet. The ones that are tend to be special cases—high-end units, elite pilot assignments."

"If neural sync isn’t widely available," Neville asked, genuinely curious now, "why put it in a real mecha?"

It was Grayson who answered.

"Its for pair piloting. Not everyone has the natural aptitude to operate a mecha alone. In some cases, two pilots can work together—one handling precision through the control panel for manual control and the other managing the movement and reflexes through the neural sync tube."

"These pairs are usually an alpha and an omega, or an alpha and a beta," Dr. Shortle added. "The alpha provides raw power and instinct, while the partner provides calculation and accuracy. It’s actually quite effective when done right."

Pair piloting wasn’t something he had encountered when he reviewed the original timeline.

But then again, he had to consider that the original timeline had focused heavily on the romance between the protagonists.

Therefore, military details were bound to be glossed over in favor of more... intimate scenes.

Dr. Shortle suddenly seemed to remember where he was and what he was going. He glanced at Neville with an awkward smile. "I’m sorry. Here I am rambling about work frustrations to a visitor. How unprofessional."

"Not at all," Neville assured him. "It’s a fascinating conversation. I learned a lot."

"How kind of you." Dr. Shortle gestured toward an adjacent room visible through a glass partition. "You’ll also need to change into pilot suits. The neural sync requires form-fitting attire for accurate feedback mapping."

Neville blinked. "Like the suits inside the Mecha Warfare Online?"

The words left his mouth before he could think, and he immediately regretted them.

Grayson turned to look at him with sharp interest. "You play Mecha Warfare Online?"

Damn.

"I—" Neville scrambled for an excuse, any excuse. "Didn’t you already know that?"

Grayson tilted his head, confusion flickering across his features. "Why would I know that?"

Just as Neville opened his mouth to say "back in your library," he remembered something. Grayson had forgotten those days in his penthouse.

Neville’s heart clenched unexpectedly.

"I..." He forced himself to look away, pursing his lips awkwardly. "It seems you’re not the one I told that information to."

The words hung between them, heavy and filled with tension.

Grayson’s expression changed, his eyes narrowed slightly.

Neville could practically see something dark burning behind that intense gaze.

But what could he do about it?

If the alpha had any idea that the "someone else" was actually himself...

But he didn’t, and Neville couldn’t talk about it either.

Then Grayson exhaled slowly after a long silence, as if deliberately relaxing his shoulders.

"I see," he said, his voice carefully neutral. "Well. Perhaps you can tell me more about yourself next time."

The possessiveness underlying those calm words was hard to miss.

Neville felt a mixture of frustration and warmth twisting through his gut.

This was one of the reasons why he couldn’t really let go of Grayson after trying so many times before.

Dr. Shortle, clearly sensing the change in the atmosphere, cleared his throat diplomatically.

"The suits are, in fact, quite similar to the game versions. Paired with the neural helmet, as they allow you to get a full sensory mapping. The main difference is that you won’t need the neural gloves since we need your bare hands for user verification, which would be completed when you lie down inside."

He gestured toward the changing rooms on either side of the main chamber.

"For your first session, we’re limiting playtime to three hours. The pods aren’t equipped with nutrient solution dispensers yet, so extended sessions aren’t advisable."

Three hours. Neville’s eyes lit up despite his best efforts to remain composed. That was more than enough time for a satisfying gaming session. Not to mention Grayson was with him!

[Host, you’re going to play again!] Shelly observed cheerfully.

’I know!’

[You’ve been really busy these past few months; you really need a good distressing session.]

’That’s what I’m hoping for!’

Grayson, who was watching him, softened his expression that could only be described as fond.

"Are you ready?" Grayson murmured, quiet enough that only Neville could hear.

"More than ready." Neville adjusted his clothes. "It’s been so long since I last played."

"We’ll have to make time for it more often, then." Something in Grayson’s tone suggested he wasn’t just talking about virtual simulations.

But who cares about it now?

They changed into their pilot suits in separate rooms—form-fitting black material that hugged every contour with precision.

Neville examined himself in the mirror provided and felt vaguely ridiculous. The suit left very little to the imagination.

When he emerged, Grayson was already waiting.

The alpha’s suit somehow made him even more handsome than he already was. If anything, the sleek black material emphasized the breadth of his shoulders, the lean power of his frame.

Neville looked away quickly.

Aren’t we changing clothes too many times today?

"The simulation room is ready," Dr. Shortle announced. "I’ve set you up in a private room so you won’t be interrupted by other testers and gamers. Please provide feedback when you’re finished—sensor comfort, any lag in response times, visual clarity, that sort of thing. We also made a template in case you forgot anything we need."

"Got it." They replied at the same time.