Suddenly, Grayson, who was watching him with a burning gaze, had an unreadable expression. He carefully released Neville, moving back just enough to allow breathing room while still close to each other.

Huh?

Grayson softly coughed with red ears, like he just had a reality check. He then reached down and adjusted his own clothing, smoothing wrinkles that Neville had created.

Then, he did the same for Neville, straightening his collar and tugging his shirt back into place.

For some reason, Neville felt a little disappointed.

"I have something for you," Grayson said, his voice returning to its normal, composed tone.

He retrieved the mysterious box he had brought with him from the Mecha Research Institute.

Neville watched warily.

The last time Grayson had given him something was all work files.

Some related to a new project that could show the skills that he gained from the company. Some evidence he needed for people he wanted to cut off from the company.

Both had felt more like strategic moves than gifts.

But he also knew that Grayson had been doing this for his own good, career-wise.

When he opened the box, inside was an object wrapped in a dark fabric.

What was that?

When Grayson took off the fabric, it revealed a light pulse gun.

Not a toy.

Not a virtual replica like the ones from Mecha Warfare Online.

But a real, military-grade weapon scaled down to fit human hands, its sleek surface gleaming under the lights.

"Being around me will increasingly be dangerous for you," Grayson said, his tone changed to something harder, more serious. The playful rogue from moments ago had vanished. "This is for your protection."

Neville stared at the weapon.

A gift of protection after confirming ’something’ between them.

How very Grayson.

Slowly, the pieces clicked into place—the fake dating, the careful boundaries, the refusal to call this thing between them anything real.

Grayson wasn’t being callous.

He was being cautious.

He knew that Grayson had many enemies. He even prepared himself for it for his career, for his mission, and for personal reasons.

But he didn’t know the extent of it.

It seemed that his enemies were more powerful than expected.

This meant that anyone close to him became a target. A relationship would paint a mark on Neville’s back that might never wash off.

The realization should have been comforting, but it just made Neville’s stomach twist.

In the original timeline, Grayson had sacrificed everything for his relationship with Elliot. Of course, that storyline had ended in tragedy with Grayson as the ultimate villain of the story.

Now, Neville sat there, shackled by the system’s mission, thinking.

Everything in this world had been laid out specifically to progress his favorability with Grayson. Every thread of fate that he had tried to cast away many times before had been woven to push them together.

Still, why should he be the only one to sacrifice in this ’relationship’ while the original timeline demanded Grayson sacrifice himself?

The unanswered question burned in his chest, bitter and complicated.

In the end, he couldn’t find an excuse to refuse this convenient position.

Feeling the weight of too many emotions, Neville reached out and accepted the light pulse gun.

The metal felt cool against his palm.

"Thank you," he said quietly, unable to look straight into Grayson’s eyes.

Grayson could feel that Neville was struggling to accept the reality that being with him was not all shits and giggles.

But that was what it took to be with him.

Even Grayson had to make hard choices if he wanted to keep Neville.

Then Grayson suddenly remembered something.

"There’s something else."

Neville looked up, confused.

Grayson had already given him a gift, and that was enough. Now that he thought about it, except for food, he hadn’t given Grayson anything yet.

Grayson reached into his bag and took out a small velvet box.

Isn’t that something for rings? Isn’t it too early for that?

The moment Grayson opened it, Neville’s heart stopped.

Nestled against dark fabric was a black pearl, polished to a mirror shine and set into a delicate silver necklace. The pearl caught the light, and its surface shimmered with iridescent depths.

"I found this in the corner of my bedroom," Grayson said, his voice carefully casual. "It looked like you lost it. It’s a beautiful stone. So, I hope you don’t mind that I had it made into a necklace so you wouldn’t lose it again."

Neville’s mind went blank.

A pearl.

In Grayson’s bedroom.

[HOST! How could you miss one?!] Shelly shrieked, horrified.

’I know! Tell me why!’ Neville shouted back, freaking out.

[Host, just saying, I’m useless even if you asked if there were any others in your target’s penthouse.] Shelly hurriedly explained, also freaking out. [You’re the only one who could feel the pearls that were yours. If I took anything that wasn’t yours, you’ll be in prison for theft!]

’I know!! If you’re not going to help, then shut up!’ Neville felt his head aching.

He was sure he had cleaned everything. He was sure that he had carefully collected every pearl that he cried in that place.

But now, one had slipped through.

The thought made cold sweat prickle along his spine.

This was driving him crazy.

Had he dropped others? Were there more that he missed in Grayson’s penthouse?

He was sure that this pearl was his since he could feel the familiarity in it like the others he stored away. His mermaid tears also had a particular warmth to them, especially the black ones that hadn’t been soaked in his bathwater long enough to turn white.

But he couldn’t exactly ask Grayson about it, could he?

What could he say?

’Oh, by the way, you haven’t happened to find any other pearls lying around, have you?’

Then if Grayson asked, ’There’s more? Should I have a professional clean the whole penthouse to search for it?’

Then he would have no choice but to say how many he lost.

But then he couldn’t exactly say how many since he didn’t really know.

But then Grayson would start to wonder how sure he was that there were others

What more could he say from there?

’No reason, just curious.’

So then, Grayson would ask if it was really his, and he couldn’t exactly deny that it was his right.

Right?

Yeah, right.

Just thinking about it, he knew that that conversation wouldn’t go over well.

"Thank you," Neville managed to say with his voice only slightly strained. "I was wondering where I lost it."

He reached out and took the pearl necklace.

The moment his skin made contact, warmth bloomed against his palm. The unique signature of his own essence still emanates from the depths of the black nacre.

There was no doubt. This was his.

Grayson watched him accept the gift with satisfaction.

"Let me help you put it on." He offered.

Before Neville could protest, Grayson had stood up and moved behind him, taking the necklace from his hands.

Cool fingers brushed against the sensitive skin of his nape as Grayson swept his hair aside, and Neville suppressed a shiver.

The clasp clicked into place.

The pearl settled against his collarbone, warm and familiar.

"It suits you," Grayson murmured, close enough that his breath stirred the fine hairs at Neville’s temple.

Neville’s cheeks burned. He stepped forward quickly, putting distance between them before his self-control crumbled completely.

Eventually, Grayson glanced at his light brain and grimaced. "It’s late. I should go."

Neville felt his chest tighten. "Right. There were early meetings tomorrow."

Grayson reached out and patted Neville on the head. "We’ll see each other tomorrow."

Neville felt a little ticklish on the part that Grayson touched and pouted while covering his head, "I know."

Grayson stood, collecting his bag. Neville walked him to the door, hyperaware of the narrow hallway, the way Grayson’s shoulders seemed to fill the space.

They stood at the threshold, facing each other.

The awkwardness returned, and neither of them spoke. The silence stretched, heavy with everything unsaid.

Neville opened his mouth to say something, anything, to break the tension.

But Grayson moved faster.

He leaned down and pressed a soft peck to Neville’s lips. Just a brush.

"I’ll do this every time there’s an awkward atmosphere," Grayson said, his voice low and teasing, a cheeky grin curving his mouth.

Neville’s eyes went wide, and he said as he pushed him out, "Just go!"

Grayson’s low laugh followed. "Yes, dear."

The endearment—casual, almost mocking—made Neville’s face turn beet red. His hand shot out and slammed the close button on the door panel.

The last thing he saw was Grayson laughing, eyes crinkled with amusement, as the door slid shut between them.

Neville stood in his empty apartment, heart pounding, face burning, the black pearl warm against his skin.

[Host! I—]

"Shelly. Please. I need a minute."

[...Okay. ( ･ω･)♡ But just so you know, that was the most romantic thing I’ve ever witnessed. Even better than the three hundred and forty-seven drama series.]

Neville didn’t say anything. He pressed his back against the closed door and slid down until he was sitting on the floor, knees drawn up, head in his hands.

What the hell was he doing?