Harem Startup : The Demon Billionaire is on Vacation

Malris didn't smile.

She didn't blink either.

She just studied him with the sharp, cold curiosity of a woman trying to figure out if the creature in front of her was still the man she once negotiated soul tariffs with… or something else entirely.

There was a moment of quiet—just the sound of cutlery in the distance, the subtle music overhead, the hum of luxury and silence playing footsie.

Then Malris spoke again.

"Tell me, Lux." Her voice was quieter now. "Are you… just trespassing the Hell System?"

He didn't answer.

Didn't breathe.

Didn't twitch.

Because yeah…

She wasn't wrong.

She leaned back, her eyes never leaving his face. "You're still our CFO. You control the money. The chains. The ledgers. Half the realms bend because you said the coin flow should. But your core signature…"

She tilted her head slightly. "It's not the same."

Lux still didn't speak.

Because what would he even say?

'Yes, I ate a divine relic. Yes, it cracked me open like a vault. Yes, I feel like something's growing inside me and I don't know if it's going to end in profit or apocalypse.'

Not exactly good breakfast conversation.

Because the truth was—

She was right.

And he wasn't sure anymore.

Each demonic class had a limit. A cap. Pride demons could ascend until their ego collapsed reality around them. Wrath had strength until it snapped their minds in two. Envy, Gluttony, Lust… all had their domains, their walls, their thresholds.

Greed was no different.

And Lux?

Lux was still a prince.

Not a king. Not a lord. Just a royal. The son of the Lord of Greed. A title that meant he could waltz through vaults like they were open-air markets and command wealth with a whisper—but it also meant his power had a ceiling. A vault door he couldn't pry open without consequences.

Sure, the other sin domains respected the Greed Department when they needed it.

But they didn't fear it.

Pride had the pure-bloods. The bloodline dynasties. Wrath had generals carved from war. Envy had eyes in every realm.

Lux?

He had coin.

And coin didn't win fights.

At least… not at first.

In the early days, back when he took the seat of Infernal Finance, Lux had been bruised and broken weekly. Negotiations with Wrath territory warlords ended in bloodbaths. Envy's trade reps tried to extort him blind. Pride's golden heirs treated him like a calculator with legs.

They didn't see him as dangerous.

Until the day he changed the game.

Every time negotiations turned physical—which they always did—Lux used a trick.

One he developed after nearly getting dismembered by an Envy Prince in a conference pit.

It locked all abilities.

Every magic. Every enhancement. Every domain perk.

What was left?

Raw skill.

Fists. Blades. Footwork. Improvisation.

And Lux—well.

Lux had grown up fighting with nothing but disadvantages.

Turns out, when all the cheats were stripped away, he was the most dangerous one in the room.

That's how he survived.

How he won.

He still went black and blue. Sometimes spitting blood.

But he won.

And how he earned the respect of the realms that once mocked him.

Not by strength. Not by bloodline.

By being impossible to predict.

And now?

Now his core signature wasn't just Greed and Lust anymore.

It had evolved.

Into something new.

Something the system didn't know how to name.

Something beyond infernal.

Malris could feel it.

And Lux… couldn't deny it.

So instead, he breathed out, slow, and said, "I got a few… celestial artifacts recently. Used one. Might've… changed me."

Her eyes narrowed. "What kind of artifact?"

"I already reported them all to ITPS. They cleared. All legal. No infection. No celestial override. Also…" He trailed off. Then added with a deadpan note, "They gave me therapy coupons."

Malris blinked. "You're joking."

"I'm not."

"Celestaria gave you coupons."

"Yeah. For emotional detox. Apparently, I need a mental checkup."

Malris let out a dry laugh. "And you went?"

Lux stabbed a piece of duck and popped it into his mouth. "Yeah. For a trauma dump. I tried one session in the Sloth Territory once, but it gave me more trauma. At least in Heaven they smile."

She shook her head. "You're out of your mind."

He grinned. "You're just figuring that out now?"

"Lux," she said, voice low, "you're playing with celestial-grade energy. You know they can't be trusted. They will use you to dig."

"And you're worried about me being used?" Lux leaned forward, shadows flickering subtly in the space between them. "You're talking to me about trust issues?"

He laughed, sharp and quiet, like breaking glass in a padded room.

"Malris," he said, voice colder now. "Tell me. How many times have I been betrayed by my own kin? How many times have I built something only to watch it be sold off by the people who were supposed to protect it? I've lost count."

She didn't reply.

Because she knew.

He continued.

"Do you think I still sign contracts with ink? I bind everything with my soul now. Every clause. Every clause of every deal. Every sigil I etch into a finance agreement bleeds if it's broken. Why?"

He stared her down.

"Because I don't believe anyone."

She sat back, quiet. Hands folded neatly in her lap. Lips tight.

[System Notification: Your heart rate elevated. Cortisol spike detected.]

He didn't flinch, but he felt it.

The burn behind his eyes. The tightness in his jaw. The way his pulse beat against his collarbone like a warning drum trying to whisper 'you don't want to go there again'.

Not again.

It wasn't anger. Not really.

Just that old familiar knot—a mix of pride, weariness, and the echo of too many knives in the back.

She didn't know what it took to sit in his chair every cycle. To balance hell's economy with duct tape and grudges. To negotiate with warlords while knowing half of them saw him as a walking coin purse with a heartbeat.