Harem Startup : The Demon Billionaire is on Vacation

Lux, meanwhile, was trying to keep himself from mentally comparing this entire gallery to some of the real exhibitions he'd attended in the Infernal Realm.

The Undercrypt in Greed's Archive. The glass maze of cursed relics under the Lust Tower. The mirror library of Wrath, where every artifact wanted to break your soul just by being looked at.

This?

This was a very expensive antique store with extra lighting and better outfits.

Still.

Lylith looked radiant. Almost… thrilled. Her eyes gleamed with the same shine as the opals draped along her tail. And when she leaned in to whisper something to one of her aides—who immediately scribbled something down and vanished—Lux recognized the gleam in her gaze.

She liked this. The hunt. The game. The power of cutting through glittering lies with a single glance.

And most of the items here?

Surprisingly… real.

Authentic. Pristine. Carefully vetted by at least five layers of bureaucratic experts who still missed the subtle flaws.

So maybe it wasn't interesting in a hellish way.

But it wasn't useless, either.

They moved deeper into the hall.

Not unnoticed.

People stared.

Of course they did.

Lylith looked like temptation incarnate, walking with scales and precious metals and the air of someone who would happily steal your empire if you blinked too slowly. And Lux?

Lux looked like generational wealth personified—sharp suit, lazy confidence, and the smirk of someone who could collapse your net worth and still get a dinner invitation afterward.

Together?

They looked dangerous.

The kind of pairing that made old money nervous and new money insecure. And that meant whispers followed them like perfume.

They stopped at the first case.

An ornate crown. High-elven design. Etchings in gold leaf so delicate they looked like breath. Emeralds sat in its frame—deep green, near black. The kind of piece that belonged to legends or liars.

Lux leaned in. Not too close. Just enough for his eyes to flash—gold, faint and fast.

A whisper of infernal insight passed over the surface.

"…Fake," he said flatly.

Lylith beamed, pleased. "Lovely. I suspected."

They kept walking.

Case to case.

An enchanted goblet that once allegedly held the tears of a star priestess? Fake.

A dagger said to be carved from wyvern horn? Real. But the blood on it? Not wyvern. Just tax collector.

A cursed necklace? Genuine.

Lux didn't touch it.

He gave his assessments like he was commenting on weather.

"Cracked enchantment. Cloaked rust pattern."

"Not aged—acid-bathed."

"Real obsidian, fake lore. That wasn't Queen Elowen's. That was mass-produced in Vyrland for war brides."

Each time, Lylith listened. Sometimes she laughed. Sometimes she nodded with growing satisfaction, making her aides scribble and send messages through communicators.

She never corrected him.

Which he respected.

Halfway through, they paused near a case displaying what looked like a relic sword still humming faintly with dormant runes.

Lux glanced sideways at her. His tone was casual. "So. Was it worth it?"

She didn't play dumb. Didn't ask what he meant.

She just tilted her head and smiled.

"You tell me," she said, voice low and laced with something smug. "Would I have gotten this much fire if I'd asked politely?"

Lux gave a small, dry laugh.

"No."

He didn't explain further.

Because the truth was—she wouldn't have.

He'd probably have ignored her invite. Or delayed it. Or turned it into a six-month negotiation just to see how serious she was.

But dragging him in?

Making it messy?

That caught his attention.

And she knew it.

Still, he didn't give her the satisfaction of saying it out loud.

And she didn't press.

The music was still playing. Too light. Too clean. Something with strings and artificial serenity. The kind of thing meant to keep rich people sedated while they burned money pretending to appreciate "cultural refinement."

Lux exhaled slowly, gaze sweeping across the hall, ready to move on to the next case.

Then—

He felt it.

That stare.

It sliced clean through the noise, through the perfume haze, through the artificial light that bounced off crystal chandeliers and fake smiles. A heavy stare. The kind that didn't just look at you. It judged you. Measured your soul and came back with a report card marked betrayal.

It wasn't lust.

It wasn't curiosity.

It was something worse.

Jealousy.

The kind that said "how dare you."

How dare you smile with her.

How dare you let her touch your arm.

How dare you look like you're enjoying this.

Lux didn't have to guess.

He turned his head—slowly, precisely.

And there she was.

Mira Xianlong.

Dragon Heiress. Banking Goddess. Bond-breaking Billionaire.

Standing like a statue made of wrath and spreadsheet precision, wearing her signature high-collared black cheongsam with golden embroidery that shimmered like her barely-contained dragon aura.

Her eyes were narrow, lethal. They didn't just look at him. They looked through him. Like she was trying to trace every memory he'd ever had with another woman and place a transaction on it.

The worst part?

She didn't even speak.

She just stared.

Like he'd missed a payment on something priceless.

Or stole something she hadn't even decided was hers yet.

Lux blinked once. Genuinely caught off-guard.

Not panicked. Not guilty. But caught.

He was about to speak—maybe defuse it, maybe flirt it sideways like always—

But then a jeweled hand caressed his cheek.

A single, glimmering touch.

Lylith.

She tilted his face back toward her, palm light but firm, eyes practically sparkling.

"We have a deal, Mr. Vaelthorn," she said sweetly.

Her voice dropped just enough for it to curl under his skin like silk dipped in something sharp. "You're with me. No other girls this time."

The room didn't silence, but Lux's world narrowed.

He grinned, low and slow, a lazy fire building in his chest.

"You're talking like a Greed," he murmured.

Lylith chuckled.

"I am greed."

And that nearly broke him.

Lux coughed into his fist to hide a chuckle so violent his ribs ached.

Because she didn't know.

She had no idea that the man she'd just laid claim to with an air of perfect authority…

Was Greed's son.

The actual infernal prince of acquisition.

The demonic CFO of sin itself.

And she stood there like she'd just filed a merger.

He loved it.