Neville’s smile became troubled, strained at the edges. His mind raced through the contents of his apartment.

The virtual pod—surely everyone in the interstellar era has those.

The kitchen—there were still suspicious machines. Hopefully, there were some that resembled other machines.

The couch—was acceptable; he bought those online.

The bedroom—he already locked it, but there were still items that he hadn’t put away in the room.

Oh no! The cereal mess was still on the floor!

"I can get you my robot’s findings if you’re not sure," Neville offered desperately, grasping at anything to redirect Grayson’s attention.

He knew that his home robot kept meticulous health logs according to the doctor’s orders. Every robot in this dormitory was also issued a health certificate if the person was ill and unable to come to work.

Surely, this would work. Neville thought. 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖

Neville stood in the doorway, one hand on his waist. His body language was screaming: This conversation should be over now. Please leave.

But Grayson remained planted in the hallway, showing no signs of leaving.

"Not necessary," Grayson said without explanation.

Then what the hell are you still doing here?! Neville wanted to scream, but still maintained his awkward smile.

Grayson tilted his head slightly, his silver eyes glinting with something Neville couldn’t understand.

"Are you sure you want to continue here?" he asked.

Neville’s brain short-circuited.

What? What was that supposed to mean? Continue what? He just wanted him to leave! Don’t just spit an ambiguous line! Please speak human!

But Grayson had a different plan.

He leaned forward, closing the distance between them until Neville could smell his fresh water pheromones. Grayson’s breath against his ear as he whispered, low and intimate, "I already saw everything there."

Neville’s entire body went rigid. "When?!"

The word came out strangled, loud, and borderline hysterical. His ocean-blue eyes widened behind his nerd glasses, and his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Grayson raised an eyebrow at the exaggerated reaction, but didn’t comment. He let the silence stretch, drawing it out until Neville wanted to shake him for an explanation.

Finally, as if he had been genuinely contemplating the question, Grayson said, "Last time."

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME?!

Neville’s mind spun through possibilities like a broken slot machine.

When had Grayson been in his apartment? Had he come in secretly? Just what the hell did he see?

His head was buzzing as he panicked. He didn’t even notice Grayson’s hand on his elbow, gently guiding him backward. It didn’t even register to him that the door was closing behind them.

He was being led toward the sofa until he was sitting on it. Grayson had settled beside him with confidence as if he owned the house. He continued to stare at Neville silently, patiently waiting.

[Host! HOST!] Shelly’s voice snapped him back.

Neville immediately scooted away, putting the maximum possible distance between himself and Grayson, which amounted to approximately eight inches. He ended up pressed against the armrest like a cornered cat.

Their knees still touched.

[Uwaa~ as much as I wanted to watch, I knew you didn’t want me to watch. I’ll get going. Bye, Host ~] Shelly vanished, escaping from the situation.

’SHELLY!’

Neville’s expression became colorful, which amused Grayson to no end.

Neville decisively stood to his feet, putting ample distance between them. He cleared his throat, trying to act like nothing had happened.

"Want some tea?" The words came out higher than intended, almost squeaky.

Grayson draped one arm along the back of the couch and tilted his head against the cushion, looking back at him cutely.

"A meal too."

Ah. Neville felt like he was doused with ice-cold water. Right. This is the real reason Grayson is here. Food. Again. Not anything else. Just food.

Since he became Grayson’s contracted chef, he hadn’t fulfilled the end of his deal properly. Not that he could complain that Grayson entered his house unannounced, after all, he did this to himself.

The "get close to the target through his stomach" strategy would be favorable if only it increased Grayson’s favorability every single time. Unfortunately, that was not happening.

Ugh, what am I doing to myself, getting all sensitive around Grayson for no reason? He already decided on the professional route. He needed to get his act right!

Neville adjusted his glasses and slipped into his professional mode. "Please wait a moment. I’ll get something fixed."

He retreated to the kitchen, grateful for the physical and mental distance. The familiar routine of cooking would ground and calm him. Giving him something else to focus on would override the fact that his boss was currently lounging in his living room.

Neville pulled ingredients from his refrigerator, some from the visible shelves, others quietly retrieved from his inventory where Grayson couldn’t see.

He had planned to make something sumptuous today anyway. Might as well add another portion.

His hands moved automatically, muscle memory taking over while his mind drifted away.

A sound from the living room jolted him back to awareness.

Neville glanced over his shoulder. Grayson had moved from the couch, leaning forward to examine something on the table. His expression was that of pure curiosity rather than casual browsing.

What is he looking at?

Neville’s heart rate picked up. What did he leave under the table? Was it the stack of data chips he had meant to organize—Wait.

That leather...it was his photo album.

That old leather-bound photo album hadn’t been organized because Neville hadn’t had the time to do so. Therefore, all sorts of pictures were there.

Portraits, landscapes, mostly, those were secretly taken.

Not because Neville had paparazzi tendencies, but it just happened that it was a beautiful moment to remember. Usually, he was a bit sad that he hadn’t taken his cameras with him all the time.

Oh no.

He remembered now.

Grayson’s picture was there, too.

Neville watched in slow-motion horror as Grayson took out the photo inside. He saw that Grayson’s expression had become blank and unreadable.

Just let me die.

Please, Lord, God, System, Jade Emperor, Buddha, take me now.

Bury me alive!