Pete Rowan followed him out. The moment the door shut behind them, he leaned against the wall with his arms folded. His expression had a mild, thoughtful concern.

It seemed that he was weighing whether a particular plant had a rotten root or just needed better drainage.

"Check her," Grayson said as if reading through the other’s thoughts.

Pete Rowan straightened and fell into step beside him. "Physically?"

"Everything." Grayson’s jaw worked once, twice.

"There must be something else going on. You can’t change someone’s appearance in just a matter of hours. Not to mention her breaking down—" He stopped himself from saying something harsher. "This isn’t like her."

Pete Rowan nodded slowly. He might not have known Lilianna Gringer for as long as Grayson and Bryan had known her, but they had known each other for a long time, too. He also noticed the obvious changes, like Grayson.

"I agree," Pete Rowan said.

"But she had always been..." He searched for the word. "Reckless."

Pete Rowan adjusted his crooked lab coat. "The volatility, the paranoia, the rapid cycling between states—."

Grayson stopped walking, recalling seeing the familiar signs to someone else before.

The corridor stretched empty and silent in both directions, lit by the Institute’s cold overhead panels.

"Can you run a full neuro workup?" Grayson asked

"Already scheduled for full spectrum." Pete Rowan met his eyes steadily. "But you know, you need to inform her parents, right?"

Grayson showed an exhausted expression, nodding a little.

Seeing that, Pete Rowan nodded and said, "I’ll keep you updated."

Grayson resumed walking until he slid into the driver’s seat.

For a long moment, he didn’t engage the ignition. He just sat, hands on the controls, staring at the dashboard’s dim blue glow.

After a while, he opened his special light brain and started connecting to someone.

Lilianna’s father.

○●○●

The morning light slid across Neville’s face until his eyelids twitched in protest. He rolled over, burrowing deeper into the pillow. Just as he was about to drift back to sleep, a translucent blue panel materialized three inches from his nose.

He jolted upright so fast his neck cracked.

[SIDE QUEST: Pearly Shell~

Give at least 10 of your white pearls to Grayson.

(Warning: Grayson has to wear it all the time for at least seven days or within the duration of the quest.)

Duration: 10 Days

Current Favorability: 25%

Target: Grayson Maxwell

Reward: ???

Penalty: Grayson’s Death]

Neville stared at the panel, and he blinked.

Then he read it again, slower this time.

Grayson’s death.

His mouth opened. Closed and opened again.

"How is that any different from my death upon failing the main mission?" he said, his voice still rough with sleep.

The system didn’t respond.

Neville dragged both hands down his face.

"Ten?"

It wasn’t like he lacked white pearls. Frankly, he had collected an absurd amount of it from the full moon transformation. They sat in his system inventory like loose change at the bottom of a purse: useless, unspent, and vaguely forgotten.

But why ten? Why would Grayson die as a penalty? Wait, penalties can also affect Grayson?

And more importantly—

"He has to wear them all the time?" Neville swung his legs off the bed and planted his feet on the cold floor, his brain finally clearing some of its fog. "For seven days straight?"

He ran through his options.

If Grayson had to wear whatever Neville gave him constantly, the form mattered. He could split them into separate accessories. A ring here, a pin there, maybe an anklet if he really wanted to test his luck.

But Grayson was one of those men who wore different clothes and accessories every day because they can. Even if he gave different accessories, the system might not fail the quest if the total number of pearls lacked one or two. After all, even if it were him, he wouldn’t really wear all of it at the same time.

This was too risky.

He needed a single piece with all ten pearls.

What about a necklace?

He imagined it: Grayson sitting in his executive chair with a strand of white pearls draped across his black suit collar like some interstellar debutante.

Neville winced at the image.

Even if it were hidden under the clothing, a full pearl necklace on that man would look absurd. Grayson would probably be irritated as it moved around every time he walked.

Also, the last time someone had gifted him a decorative lapel pin was at a charity event. Grayson said that he had "misplaced" it within an hour of the event. Bryan had found it wedged behind a couch cushion.

A bracelet, then.

A bracelet was small and discreet. Something that could sit quietly on a wrist without making any grand movements. Something Grayson might actually keep on without being reminded of it all the time.

Neville exhaled through his nose, the tension in his shoulders easing a little.

Now—how would he actually make one?

Just as he was thinking of the safe way to make it, Shelly materialized into the air. She landed on the edge of his nightstand with the grace of a paper crane, crossed her tiny legs, and propped her chin on one hand.

[Host, I saw the quest,] she said, her bright pink eyes gleaming as she looked at Neville.

"No."

[I could have it done in two days! Premium quality, guaranteed structural integrity, waterproof—]

"How much?"

Shelly straightened up, puffing out her chest. Her shell-dress glittered under the morning light. [A very reasonable, very fair, once-in-a-lifetime price of one million reward points.]

Neville turned around without hesitation. He was facing the window, crossed his arms, and said, "I’ll drill the holes myself. A drill is much cheaper and makes it more personal."

[Wait—wait—wait—] Shelly’s tiny wings buzzed frantically as she zipped in front of him, blocking his path to the kitchen. [Fine! Half a million. Five hundred thousand. No more, no less. That’s rock bottom!]

"Is it?"

[It is! Do you know how much energy it takes to process mermaid pearls? The threading alone requires a dimensional needle! I’m not just slapping beads on a string here — this is artisanal system craftsmanship—]

Neville looked at her. "But Grayson had made it into a teardrop necklace without a problem."

[Because it’s a black pearl, not a white one.] Shelly justified.

"Still a pearl."

Shelly became deflated and said. [...Okay, maybe I started high.]

"Maybe?" Neville leaned against the kitchen counter, one eyebrow raised. "You opened at a million. For a string."

[It’s not just a string! It’s structurally reinforced interdimensional—]

"Five hundred thousand," Neville said. "And you add an auto-adjustment function so it fits any wrist size."

Shelly’s mouth opened to argue, then snapped shut. Her animated eyes narrowed. [Host, that’s an upgrade. That costs extra.]

"Two hundred thousand more. Seven hundred total."

[Deal.] Shelly stuck out her tiny hand, then pulled it back before he could shake it. [Wait, I was supposed to negotiate up, not—]

"Too late. You already said deal."

[I hate you.]

"You have to love me. I’m your host. The one and only."

Neville was already opening his inventory, scrolling past the neatly organized rows of items until he reached the miscellaneous section. Rows of white pearls sat in a luminous bucket, each one roughly the size of a marble, milky and slightly iridescent under the system’s display picture.

He counted out ten and set them aside.

Then his hand paused.

Sitting next to the pearl bucket, half-hidden beneath a stack of unused items, was a small crystalline vial he had completely forgotten about.

"Crying Suppression Drops?" he read aloud, pulling it into view.

The label was written in the system’s neat script, and the description unfolded beneath his fingers: 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝚠𝚎𝚋𝗻𝗼𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝚘𝐦

[Crying Suppression Drops: Prevents involuntary pearl generation for 48 hours per dose. Useful for situations where tear-induced pearl production would be inconvenient.]

Neville stared at the vial.

His jaw tightened.

If he had remembered these existed.

If he had the presence of mind to check his own inventory even once, he wouldn’t have spent hours agonizing over whether there were still stray pearls that were rolling into the corners of Grayson’s penthouse.

[No use crying over spilled milk,] Shelly commented on the side, munching on a virtual popcorn.

"If you make one more pearl-related pun, I’m docking your processing fees."

Shelly mimed zipping her lips with a piece of popcorn.

Neville transferred the ten pearls to her workspace along with seven hundred thousand points.

Shelly caught the pearls in a shimmer of light, examining them with a critical eye. Her expression changed from playful to focused.

[Matte cord. Dark. Maybe braided? With the pearls spaced evenly, it looked elegant.] She gestured vaguely. [Are you okay with that?]

"That’s fine." Neville nodded.

[Rugged but elegant. Just like your target.] Shelly tucked the pearls into her dimensional workspace and brushed off her tiny hands. [I’ll be gone for two days. Don’t do anything reckless while I’m unsupervised.]

"You mean while I’m unsupervised."

[That’s what I said.] She winked, saluted with two fingers, and dissolved into a shower of pink sparkles.

The apartment was quiet again.