Harem Startup : The Demon Billionaire is on Vacation

Sira's smirk deepened. "Of course I will." She leaned in close enough that her perfume—smoke, cinnamon, and something older—slid into his lungs. "We'll talk later. In my place."

Lux let go of her wrist slowly, deliberately, as if giving her permission to retreat.

"C'mon," she said, stepping back but keeping her fingers hooked lightly in the fabric at his hip. "You're not welcome here for too long."

Lux's gaze swept the room. She wasn't wrong. A few demons lingering along the walls were watching him with the kind of look that said 'I'd like to see your head on a pike'. A pair of them didn't bother hiding the way their claws flexed.

He let out a slow breath through his nose. "Yeah. I can tell."

Sira didn't bother glancing at them. She just raised one hand lazily, and the air in front of them rippled—dark and glossy, like a mirror submerged in oil.

A portal, but not one of those sloppy tear-in-space kinds; this was neat, elegant, edged with faint gold sigils that whispered of old Pride bloodline magic.

Without a word, she stepped through.

Lux followed.

It was like passing through the surface of warm water—no splash, no pull, just that subtle change in pressure that made his instincts hum with caution. When his boots hit the other side, he was standing on polished black marble so reflective it felt like walking on a night sky.

The air was different here—cooler, cleaner. Expensive incense burned somewhere out of sight, layers of sandalwood and some sharp floral that made the place feel like it was watching him. The walls were draped in black-and-gold fabric, heavy enough to muffle sound, but even that couldn't hide the faint creak of leather from somewhere deeper in the mansion.

Two demon butlers were already waiting—tall, lean, with skin so pale it almost glowed under the amber light. Their eyes were solid gold, their suits cut sharper than most people's blades.

"Potions, wet towels," Sira said without looking at them. "And some clothes. Now."

They bowed in unison and vanished down opposite halls.

Lux's eyebrow lifted slightly. "Efficient."

Sira gave him a look over her shoulder as she led the way inside. "I don't keep slow people."

The living room was the kind of place designed to make you forget the outside world existed—sunken seating areas with plush, wine-red couches, low glass tables scattered with half-finished chess games and unopened bottles of Pride's signature liquors. A massive fire crackled in the hearth, the flames a rich blue instead of orange, casting the whole room in an otherworldly glow.

Lux sank into one of the couches, the cushions molding instantly to him. He didn't relax. His eyes stayed locked on Sira, tracking the way she moved like he half-expected her to pounce—or slit his throat—at any moment.

She noticed, of course. Sira always noticed.

"What?" she said finally, turning to face him with that fox's grin. "I won't do a thing to you."

His eyes narrowed.

"If I wanted to," she went on, circling behind the couch like a predator drawing out the tension, "I would've made my move the first time we met."

Lux didn't answer right away because, annoyingly, she was right.

He sighed. "Fair point."

She came around and leaned on the armrest across from him, resting her chin on her hand like she was evaluating a particularly dangerous painting.

"So, Lux…" Her voice was slow, deliberate. "…what do you think I want?"

"You said I owed you," he replied, tone as flat as the blade he'd sheathed earlier. "That usually means one of two things—you want something that can kill me, or you want something that will make me sweat."

Sira's grin widened. "Not really." She straightened, strolling toward the fire. "I haven't thought of anything yet."

"That's worse," he muttered.

She laughed softly, the sound curling in the air like the smoke from the fireplace. "Maybe. But don't worry… when I do think of something, you'll know."

He watched the way her silhouette moved in the blue firelight, the gold embroidery on her black dress catching the glow in a way that made her look more like living treasure than flesh and blood.

Pride demons didn't flirt like Lust demons did—no open invitation, no hungry stares. Pride was subtler, slower, designed to make you work for every inch they gave you.

Sira turned back toward him, letting the fire cast half her face in shadow. "Tell me, Lux… are you always this tense when you're in someone else's territory? Or is it just me?"

"It's you," he said without hesitation.

That made her laugh again, low and warm. She crossed the room, heels barely making a sound on the marble. "Good. I'd hate to think I didn't have that effect on you."

When she reached him, she didn't sit. She rested one hand on the back of the couch, leaning just close enough for her perfume to brush against his senses again. Smoke, cinnamon… and something sharper. Like a blade hidden in silk.

"You know," she murmured, "if I did want to kill you, I'd make it beautiful."

Lux's mouth twitched—half amusement, half warning. "That's comforting."

"Mm. It should be." Her fingers traced the line of the couch near his shoulder. "But maybe I don't want to kill you. Maybe I just like having you here… knowing everyone else would lose their minds if they knew."

She meant Lucaris. She had to mean Lucaris.

"You're dangerous," she said softly. "Not because of what you can do. But because you don't need Pride. You don't bow unless you choose to. That's… irritating."

Lux leaned back just enough to meet her gaze fully. "Irritating's mutual."

The butlers returned quietly, one carrying a crystal tray of glowing vials, the other with a folded stack of clothes that looked like they cost more than most demons' homes. They set them on the table in front of him and retreated without a word.

Sira straightened, still watching him. "Drink. Change. And then…" She smiled that slow, infuriating smile again. "…maybe we'll play a game."

Lux's brow arched. "What kind of game?"

"You'll see."