Bryan’s expression instantly crumbled into something resembling a kicked puppy. Neville instantly had goosebumps.

"Hope," Bryan said, as if bargaining for his life, "you don’t understand. Robots don’t understand food. It just... produces it. It’s cold, mechanical, and soulless." 𝕗𝗿𝕖𝐞𝐰𝗲𝕓𝐧𝕠𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝐨𝚖

Neville wiped the corner of his mouth with a napkin. Across from him, Grayson continued eating in silence. However, the upturned corner of his lips exposed him.

"Stewart," Neville began with courtesy and underlying exasperation, "since you like to eat made with real ingredients, with your high salary, you can probably afford to hire a chef to cook for you."

"But I don’t know if they would even cook as well as you do." Bryan’s eyes held a fervent gleam. "If the robot couldn’t even replicate your food perfectly, what more of a random chef?"

Grayson looked like he was nodding in agreement.

Neville set down his utensils and folded his hands neatly on the table. "If the robot’s cooking is inadequate, you should submit a formal complaint to the Research and Development department. I’m sure Chief Christian Leonid would be thrilled to receive your detailed feedback."

Bryan’s expression was filled with horror at the thought of explaining his culinary grievances to the notoriously meticulous R&D Chief.

"How can you say that?" he said flatly. "Is there any kindness left in this universe for me?"

"Kindness is given to those who deserve it," Neville replied with a sweet smile.

Neville couldn’t exactly say that the difference wasn’t in his cooking technique, but rather the ingredients that he pulled out from the system mall. But even so, He certainly wasn’t going to serve Grayson anything less than the quality from the system mall.

Neville glanced at Grayson, and their eyes met.

The meal concluded with Bryan still making half-hearted pleas and Neville pretending not to hear them. After resting, Neville stared blankly at the ceiling.

Then he heard, "Go."

Neville’s head snapped up, eyes widening.

"Me?" He pointed at himself, genuinely startled. Then asked after realizing that it was him. "Where?"

Grayson had already turned his attention back to his light brain, scrolling through an endless stream of reports.

Bryan leaned back in his chair with a knowing smile.

"We still have things to handle here. We wouldn’t need you anytime soon," He waved a dismissive hand. "You go incognito and inspect the ship for us and do whatever you want."

Neville’s eyes widened further, then lit up like twin stars igniting. "O-of course! On it!"

He was out the door before either of them could reconsider.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Neville practically bounced through the corridors. The executive floor was certainly impressive, but he was still curious about what the other floors could offer.

Then he stumbled on the navigation hub that every deck had. It was usually ignored, or the staff just looked at it from time to time. But since he saw how one of the staff used it, Neville was confident he could operate it the same.

The holographic display of the starship floated in front of him. If you pointed at one place, it could show you its name. There was even a navigation system if you didn’t know the way from where you were.

Since he had already explored the executive kitchen, he didn’t need to go around there. He already knows the way from the entrance of the starship to the executive floor. But then, he remembered something.

’Shelly,’ Neville called as he stared blankly at the map before him.

[Yes, Host?]

’Record everything in here and scan the entire ship in case there were hidden compartments and rooms.’

[On it! ٩(◕‿◕)۶]

Mapping the data alone would put a strain on his barely recovered good points. But this would be invaluable, especially in the face of this ever-present quest.

[SIDE QUEST!

Current Favorability: 14%

Side Quest: Save Your Target!

Time: D-3

Target: Grayson Maxwell

Reward: ???

Penalty: DEATH]

He had already wasted days before this and found nothing amiss. This leaves this business trip as the last clue to find the person who could threaten Grayson’s life.

Neville took a deep breath. Even if he was anxious, all he could do right now was gather information to prevent anything from happening.

First, prepare.

He would make sure that he understood every single part of this ship so he could plan a contingency plan in the worst-case scenario.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

The medical wing sprawled across an entire deck. There were medical pods for the injured, and life pods lined the walls in neat rows in case the starship crashed.

The susceptible period rooms, however, made him pause. Three sealed chambers, heavily insulated, with pheromone filtration systems. It didn’t look like it was occupied; however, the reinforced doors were making him queasy.

In a world where alpha and omega dynamics could spiral out of control at the worst possible times, such accommodations weren’t just courteous; they were essential. But being trapped in there, unable to go out in your most vulnerable moments, was terrifying.

Neville studied the room configurations through the observation window, mentally noting the layout. Further down the corridor, he found something that made him stop entirely.

Isolation rooms.

They looked like detention cells at first glance—reinforced walls, limited access points, observation panels set at strategic heights. But the more Neville examined them, the less they made sense.

Detention facilities existed elsewhere on the ship; he’d passed the brig earlier, a stark section near the lower decks designed specifically for holding assailants until they reached their destination.

Therefore, he knew that these rooms served a different purpose entirely. The medical equipment inside suggested that it was for treatment rather than punishment.

Quarantine, maybe?

The mecha bay occupied the lowest deck of the starship. Massive humanoid forms stood in orderly rows, each one secured in maintenance cradles that kept them upright and ready for deployment. The ambient lighting was harsh and practical, casting deep shadows that made the mechas look even more imposing.

Neville’s heart beat faster. His palms itched to try operating one in real life.

How different was it from the one he operated in the combat simulation?