Harem Startup : The Demon Billionaire is on Vacation

The driver stepped out, all prim posture and thin smile, clearly unaware of whose house he was standing in. Lux accepted the clipboard with a little flourish, signed it with a pen that glowed faintly gold, and nodded once.

"Thanks," Lux said, handing it back. Then—habitually—he slipped the man a tip.

The driver's eyes widened at the number.

"Sir—thank you—"

Lux waved him off like it was pocket change. "Don't die in debt. Buy something stupid. That's what money's for."

He watched the man leave, then turned back to the car.

It gleamed under the morning sun. A sleek, mortal masterpiece. No soul engine, no reality-threading core, no chaos runes under the hood.

Just leather seats and purring horsepower.

Lux stood there for a long moment, fingers jiggling the keys in his palm. A little click-click.

"Do I even need this?" Lux muttered, squinting at the sleek mortal-manufactured car in his driveway like it had personally offended his intelligence.

When he bought it, the idea was simple: play it low. Blend in. Act like a regular guy with a taste for subtle luxury. Something a mortal CFO would drive. A little leather. A little chrome. Nothing with wings or infernal wheels that screamed demon royalty.

But now?

After the bounty? After the viral photos? After the streamed execution of a Pride Lord?

Lowkey was dead.

Buried six feet under with a nice tombstone labeled "RIP Normal Life."

And yet…

He sighed.

Because here he was—staring at a machine that ran on gas and mortal pride—while knowing full well he had portal skills, teleportation, flying contracts, and actual infernal cars made of cursed black gold sitting in his vault, ready to go full apocalyptic runway at his command.

But still…

Still, there was something comforting about this stupid mortal car. Something grounding. Predictable. You turned the key, and it hummed. No screaming. No soul sacrifices. No "blood of your enemies required for ignition."

Just… vroom.

Lux jiggled the keys in his hand like they weighed more than they should. "Maybe I'll keep it," he muttered. "For errands. Or dramatic mortal dates."

Maybe he just wanted to remember what it felt like to drive.

To do something mortal. Mundane.

…Normal.

'Yeah,' he thought. 'Lowkey is dead for me already.'

Still, it wasn't a bad car.

He might actually use it.

Eventually.

He raised his voice slightly. "Fenrir!"

The guy materialized in the doorway. His eyes burned low with loyalty and an eternal grudge against parking rules.

"Yes, Master?" the guy rumbled.

"Put it in the garage."

Fenrir grunted once, then walked straight toward the car—and shoved it. Just… physically pushed the luxury vehicle like it was a toy cart headed for timeout.

Lux deadpanned.

"I meant ride it."

He sighed and held up the keys, jiggling them again. The little fob chirped.

Fenrir turned back, abashed. "Apologies, sir."

Lux handed him the keys with a flat expression. "Just drive it in like a normal person-wolf-thing."

"Yes, Master."

The guy took the keys delicately between two fingers and slunk around to the driver's seat. A few awkward moments and one barked curse later, the car rolled slowly into the side garage.

Lux shook his head. "And I'm the one people call dramatic."

He turned and re-entered the mansion.

And paused.

Because the moment he stepped into the room—

He saw her.

Mira.

Still in the styling chair, mid-transformation… but now?

Now fully glowing.

Hair slicked back in a delicate braid of pearlescent and deep sea green. Her eyes were framed in just enough color to feel dangerous. Her lips kissed with a subtle gloss that shimmered between gold and red when she turned her head.

She looked like a dragon goddess who could sue you for breathing wrong.

Lux blinked. "Damn."

Next to her, Sira actually looked impressed. She tilted her head, arms crossed, lips twitching.

"I hate to admit it," she said, "but they outdid themselves."

Mira slowly turned toward Lux, her voice a little breathy. "I don't know what's happening to my face."

Lux smirked. "That's called perfection."

Velza stepped back, admiring her own work. "Her features are sharp. Dragon blood enhances bone structure."

Vierra added, "She's a natural. We just enhanced the divinity."

And then—

"Holy shit."

Everyone turned.

Fiera had entered the room, half-dressed and towel-drying her hair. She froze halfway into the living room like someone just hit her with a glamor bomb.

Her fox ears twitched once. Twice.

She stared at Mira, then slowly looked at the twins… and then back at Lux.

"Who the hell are they?"

Velza and Vierra smiled sweetly—still in humanoid form, horns hidden, demonic aura masked.

"We're Lux's stylists," Vierra said smoothly.

"Independent contractors," Velza added.

Fiera blinked. "Since when do you have stylists?"

"Since always. I told you before," Lux said with a casual shrug, walking toward her. "They only come out when I'm feeling generous."

"I thought you were kidding. So you're… feeling generous today?"

Lux gave her a once-over. She was wrapped in one of his oversized bathrobes, hair damp, cheeks flushed, tails swinging behind her with a sleepy rhythm.

He smiled. "Something like that."

Fiera frowned. "You said this was just a housewarming. Not a luxury spa slash salon?"

"It can be both," he said. "Multitasking."

Sira smiled lazily. "Don't be jealous, little fox. You can have a turn too."

Fiera hesitated. "Is this… safe?"

"It's makeup," Lux said, laughing. "Not soul contracts."

Mira—still glowing and somehow looking ten years richer—finally stood and walked toward Fiera. "Just do it. You're gonna freak out when you see the results."

Fiera blinked at her. "You look hot."

"I know."

Vierra and Velza moved toward Fiera next, enchanted brushes at the ready. Fiera backed up.

"Okay! Okay! Let me put on my dress first!"

Lux watched her go, smirking.

Sira leaned close to him and murmured, "You're playing a dangerous game."

Lux grinned. "Aren't I always?"

And as the morning sun rose higher, and one by one the women under his roof turned into walking sins of beauty, Lux Vaelthorn—the devil in a silk shirt—smiled like the king of temptation.

Because this?

This was just the start of the day.