Harem Startup : The Demon Billionaire is on Vacation

The engine growled beneath him like a beast tamed by sin.

The morning parted for him, and mortals didn't even realize what was slicing through their reality like a flaming arrow of desire and demonic steel.

He looked good.

Too good, maybe.

The Infernal motorcycle left a burning signature behind its wheels, a faint shimmer of branded flames licking the concrete. And Lux? Lux looked like temptation riding a storm.

Helmet on. Red eyes gleaming behind obsidian-tinted glass. Leather jacket flared. Wind coiling through his hair when he tilted the visor open just enough to wink at the two stunned women waiting at the crosswalk.

One nearly dropped her drink. The other whispered something to her friend like she'd just seen her fantasy come to life.

A third snapped a photo, and Lux smirked.

Yeah. New bike, upgraded swagger.

Once again, lowkey was dead.

By the time he glided through the mansion gates, he was fully in his element again.

Home.

He parked in the garage, the air still hot with residual magic. The Sin-Eater idled, humming like it wanted to go back out and seduce more highways.

Lux pulled off his helmet, hair slightly tousled. He caught his reflection in one of the mirrors lining the garage wall and gave himself a crooked little smirk.

"Still got it."

He slung the helmet onto the hook, adjusted his cuffs, and grabbed the box of crystal glasses from dimensional storage. With a few easy strides, he entered the house through the side door, passing through cool halls filled with light music, faint perfume, and a few lingering wisps of demonic mana.

The moment he stepped in, a servant in uniform nearly tripped rushing over.

"Sir Vaelthorn!"

"Yeah, yeah." Lux handed the box over. "Handle with love. They're fancy. I paid in charm and mortal currency for those."

The servant bowed low. "Right away, sir."

And then—

"Bad news~"

Corvus.

The raven shimmered into existence on a windowsill like he'd always been there, feathers fluffed dramatically, eyes glowing deep crimson.

Lux didn't even flinch. "What now?"

Corvus tilted his head. "That Elio thing? The angel you let live? Yeah, they killed him."

Lux froze mid-step. "Wait, what?"

"Yup. Smote his glowing little ass before he reached any gate. Seems like they detected my tracking sigils."

Lux sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Oh dear. So much for angelic postal service."

Corvus cawed softly, wings spreading. "But on the good side…" he said with faux cheer, "they definitely got your message. Very loudly. Very bloodily. Probably in high-definition."

Lux grunted. "I guess that's a win. Would've liked the delivery confirmation though."

Corvus stretched lazily. "So nothing else to talk about, right? I've got a few sins to check on. Bye~"

And just like that, poof. Gone.

Lux rolled his eyes. "Rude bird."

He pulled out a golden slip from his inner jacket pocket—a celestial voucher. Smooth, rectangular, infused with platinum sigils and Heaven's ridiculously bureaucratic shimmer.

He reached his bedroom door.

-Click!

The door didn't open to his bed.

It shifted.

Revealed a glowing elevator of polished white marble, lined with gilded patterns, but no visible buttons. No music. No destination selector.

Typical Celestial transport. Elegant and arrogant.

The moment Lux stepped inside, the System pinged.

[Celestial Authorization Confirmed. Voucher Redeemed.]

[Do you wish to announce your arrival to the Celestaria Office?]

"Unnecessary," Lux muttered, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve.

The moment he said it, the elevator surged upward in complete silence, the view around him turning into a blur of golden clouds and surreal light.

Lux reached into his storage and pulled out a folded cloth—white and silver, lined with sanctified stitching.

[Item Equipped: Robe of Sanctified Anonymity]

[Effect: Conceals demonic aura. Transforms appearance to fit celestial norms. Blocks 99% identity tracking. Passive holy field included.]

The robe shimmered over his frame, overlaying his tailored clothes with a pristine white suit. Golden embroidery bloomed across the chest, subtle and smug. His red eyes dimmed, cooled… and turned blue.

Angel-blue.

Lux—now appearing as a radiant consultant from the Department of Divine Negotiations—smirked at his reflection.

"I hate how good I look like this."

-Ding!

The elevator stopped.

The doors opened to a high-ceilinged lobby, marble so clean it squeaked under footfalls, air purified to the point of sterility.

A massive sigil of scales rotated above the receptionist's desk like an idle threat.

Lux stepped out, casual as sin in Sunday clothes.

The receptionist—an angel with messy hair, bored expression, and a clipboard so dense it could be a melee weapon—looked up.

Then blinked.

"…Lux Vaelthorn?" he said slowly, suspiciously. "Do you have an appointment?"

"Nope." He smiled. "But you know me, right?"

His lips thinned. "Unfortunately."

Lux made a show of glancing around. "Still smells like policy."

"Still smells like a PR disaster when you're involved," he muttered. "Do you wish to speak to Lady Celestaria?"

"Yup."

He sighed. Deeply. Audibly. Like he aged three years just from dealing with him.

"Please wait. I'll check if she's accepting unexpected guests."

Lux folded his arms and leaned against the counter like he owned it.

"Tell her it's urgent," he said. "And tell her I'm wearing white. That should get her attention."

The receptionist didn't look impressed.

But he walked away anyway.

And Lux stood there in Heaven's lobby like the polite, pure, thoroughly fake guest he was.

Footsteps returned.

The receptionist approached with the same energy as someone about to take a caffeine break and finding a lawsuit waiting instead.

He glanced at Lux like he'd just bitten into a holy lemon.

"She said," the receptionist began, voice dry as parchment, "you may go in and wait inside her private reception chamber."

Lux arched a brow. "How generous of her."

The angel didn't blink. "She also said we'll bring you some refreshments."

"Aw, how thoughtful," Lux smirked. "She does miss me."

The angel's jaw twitched.

"She also added," he continued, adjusting his clipboard with surgical precision, "please don't do anything weird. Don't charm anyone. Don't seduce the architecture. Don't flirt with the statues. And for the love of all celestial order, don't touch the fountain."