Chapter 52: Shelly Came Back

While Neville was off on his vacation, Grayson was several floors below in the hotel’s business center. He sat behind a temporary desk, silver eyes sweeping across the holographic displays.

His light brain chimed with an incoming call. The ID flashed a name he had been expecting. He answered with a flick of his fingers.

"How dare you send your people here?!" The voice that burst through was furious, the man’s usually composed demeanor cracking under strain.

Grayson leaned back in his chair, the picture-perfect image of calm but imposing authority.

"How dare you send your ’brother’ here?" His voice was low, steady—dangerous. The kind of tone that made even seasoned soldiers take a step back.

The weight he placed on ’brother’ was unmistakable—disdain curling around every syllable.

The man on the other end faltered, his anger deflating like a punctured balloon.

"It’s not like I wanted to send him there," he stammered, though the protest sounded weak even to his own ears.

Grayson’s gaze drifted to the floor-to-ceiling window beside him. He could see from there how Neville was enjoying his day at the hotel’s distinct activities. His eyes subconsciously softened, his lips slightly curled.

But when the light caught in his eyes, it quickly changed to sharp, predatory. The reflection staring back wasn’t the polite businessman, but a man who had seen blood and hadn’t flinched.

"Are you sure you want to stick with that narrative?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

The caller grit his teeth, the sound harsh over the line. "No matter what he did, I had nothing to do with it."

"He’s still a Hewitt." Grayson’s tone dropped, heavy and deliberate. Each word landed like a judgment. The name itself carried the weight of history—old money, old power, old sins.

"I heard he did something wrong, but... he wasn’t the only one, right?" The man tried to shift the blame, voice uncertain.

"Right," Grayson said softly. He let the word linger, stretching the silence until it began to hurt. "But I’ve already dealt with those people."

The meaning was clear.

Dealt with—coming from Grayson—left no room for misinterpretation.

The line went still, the air thick with things better left unsaid.

Finally, the man on the other end sighed, the sound carrying both annoyance and resignation.

"I heard it was an omega." When he spoke again, his tone had shifted to sneering condescension. "Really, Grayson? You? All this fuss—for an omega? Has the great Grayson Maxwell finally fallen so low now?"

The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees. Grayson’s expression didn’t change, but something in his stillness became actively threatening.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low. Too quiet.

"He touched my people." The possessive pronoun my rang cold and deadly. "I suggest you hope I don’t touch yours in return."

It wasn’t a hope. It was a clear warning, uttered with the unshakable certainty of a man who once commanded fleets, who could still make a call and turn the tide of entire markets.

The Hewitt family might be old money, but Grayson Maxwell was a power in motion. He hadn’t survived the military’s political crossfire—or saved a starship empire from its pieces—by letting insults slide.

The man on the call swallowed audibly. "I understand. I’ll... I’ll take the reins off your hands."

"See that you do."

With a single gesture, Grayson ended the call with a simple gesture, dismissing both the man and the incident from his immediate attention.

Of course, the incident was dismissed, but not forgotten.

He returned to his work, silver eyes narrowing as he navigated the holographic interfaces. Yet, every few minutes, his gaze drifted to the window—toward the crowded place.

Where Neville was roaming around.

The mark he had left on his employee’s lips had been an instinct; it was inevitable. It wasn’t something he had to think about deeply.

At least, not yet.

——

It was already dark when Neville returned to the employee dormitory of Maxwell Corporation.

The moment he sank into his familiar bed, exhaustion washed over him — and yet, his mind refused to rest. He reached into his pocket, pulling out the holo-photos he’d taken earlier, letting the captured memories flicker across his vision.

[System Reboot Complete!

System Avatar: Guide Shelly has recovered from an unexpected shutdown

Reinitializing SNARK1 protocols...]

"About damn time," Neville muttered, sitting up as the holographic screen flared to life.

Shelly materialized with a dramatic pop, her new shell appearance gleaming with glossy pink. Her animated eyes spun in dizzy circles before locking onto him.

[Whoa, what happened? My last memory is you getting pinned down by those bastards and then—]

Her eyes went comically wide, practically bulging out of her shell. Multiple holographic screens popped out and vanished in front of her.

[HOLY SEA CUCUMBERS, YOUR FAVORABILITY JUMPED!]

"Yeah, I noticed," Neville said dryly, arching a brow. His gaze swept over her new form. "And what’s with the new look? Was that the reason you went AWOL1?"

[I don’t knoooow!] Shelly wailed, spinning in distressed circles as she frantically examined her glowing new form.

She was still a seashell texture-wise, but her shape had changed. She now looked more like a half-bloomed flower with a few delicate petals slightly unfurled but rounder than before.

Neville hummed thoughtfully. "If you can move those ’petals,’ you’re not a seashell anymore. You’re an octopus."

[No! I absolutely don’t want to be an octopus!] Shelly began rolling around midair in horror, her digital tears falling everywhere.

He chuckled and teased, "I can have reserved food everywhere then."

[NOOO! Host, I’m not tasty! Please, don’t eat Shelly!] Shelly cried even louder, flooding the whole room with digital tears.

"I’m just kidding," he said, gently scooping Shelly up to halt her rolling tantrum. "Anyway, welcome back."

Shelly smiled and let out a muffled sniffle before melting against his chest, voice trembling as she sought comfort from her host.

[Host, you have no idea how scared I was when everything went black!]

Shelly wailed softly.

[One second, you were dizzy from blood loss, then you decided to blow up the place! And then—then your target shows up like a knight in shining armor!]

She threw up her ’tiny digital arms’ dramatically. [The whole scene was literally blinding—there was smoke everywhere!]

Shelly’s animated eyes sparkled with renewed excitement.

[I saw him toss one of those bastards across the room like it was nothing! Banging to the wall and flailing to the ground like a broken doll.]

Then, Shelly’s expression twisted to a dramatic scowl.

[But the moment he got close to you—BAM! Blackout! Total darkness! DARK! D-A-R-K!]

Shelly was now floating a foot above the bed, animated fire materializing behind her as her non-existent nostrils began to flare in digital fury.

[I was waiting for the hot stuff to unfold in real life, not just in novels, manhwa, dramas, or movies! But what did I get? A black screen?!]

She hovered aggressively closer to his face and cried.

[Tell me, Host—has anyone else’s guide ever been this unlucky?!]

Neville sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Pretty sure I would remember if someone wrote a manual for ’how to babysit a nosy AI during a crisis.’

But Neville smiled wryly outwardly, thinking about his bitten lower lip. He would never be able to find out who bit his lower lip, that much was certain. There was no justice in this world—not when his chastity had already, possibly, been robbed.

He gave Shelly’s new form a light pat; she felt softer, a little more squishy than before.

"Why do you think that happened?" he asked.

[I don’t know!] Shelly answered immediately, voice chipper and unhelpful.

Neville pinched the bridge of his nose. "Try thinking of possible technical reasons why the system abruptly shut down so we can prevent it next time."

Shelly spun slowly in the air, eyes darting left and right as if the answers were hiding in the corners.

[Did you do anything in particular before I got the black screen?]

Neville tried to recall. "Not really. I was bleeding, though. Quite a bit."

Shelly froze midair, then gasped dramatically.

[Uhm... maybe pheromone overload?! That stare could’ve made you pregnant!]

Neville stared down at Shelly. "I should probably veto your right to access romance content in the future before it fries the last of your circuits. You’re losing sight of what’s in front of you—the reality."

[NOOO! HOST, PLEASE! I PROMISE I’LL BEHAVE!] Shelly wailed, performing a full-body digital collapse right in front of Neville’s face.

Unable to endure the dramatic harassment, Neville had to stop her frantic bouncing.

"Alright, alright—just give me a real reason," he sighed.

But she kept muttering under her breath, [That was a proper answer though...]

Neville shot her a warning look.

Shelly quickly collected herself. [Okay! Okay! I’ll list proper—]

But something about Neville caught her eye, making her pause.

[Host...] Shelly whispered, floating unnervingly close to Neville’s face. [How could you let your beautiful face get bitten like that?]

Neville blinked. He knew exactly where she was looking. He opened his mouth to explain, but Shelly Shelly continued rambling with innocent curiosity.

[You’re really attractive, Host! No wonder insects would gather around your lips to bite them! Did you eat honey or something?]

Insects. Right. Sure.

Neville’s lips twitched. "There was a particular dessert in the hotel that was incredibly sweet. It’s a shame I didn’t know what it was made of."

[I knew it!] She cheered triumphantly, then froze midair, eyes narrowing in sudden curiosity with her gossip antenna up.

[Wait. Did you just say... hotel?]

Neville blinked and replied slowly, "...Yes?"

Shelly’s animated expression was instantly lit up like bright-pink fireworks, glittering gossip. [OH MY HOST. Who did you go with? Don’t tell me—you finally—!]

"STOP! STOPPUU right there!" Neville shouted, cutting her off in a panicked hurry. He sighed, rubbing his temples. "Nothing happened."

He wanted to believe that. He really did. But with no proof, he couldn’t be certain. And... it might’ve been just his own bite mark from the stress.

It had to be.

SNARK protocols, or Zero-Knowledge Succinct Non-Interactive Argument of Knowledge protocols, are cryptographic systems that allow a prover to demonstrate the truth of a statement without revealing the private information supporting it.absent without official leave but without intent to desert.