Chapter 361: Salvageable
Lux pinched the bridge of his nose. He'd seen this before—not with mortals, but with young demons shoved into contracts they didn't understand, bled dry, then tossed out like garbage when their ROI dipped below expectation. Same story. Different packaging.
He exhaled slowly, then muttered, "Let's see what I can do."
Her head turned slightly, eyes wide, uncertain. "What do you mean?"
Lux smirked again, this time with teeth. "I mean I hate bad investments. And whoever decided you were worthless clearly never balanced their books properly." He let his gaze flick over her, sharp enough to make her squirm. "You're a messy ledger, Ariel. But maybe… salvageable."
Her brows knit together, torn between offense and something dangerously close to hope. "I don't understand you."
"Good," Lux said smoothly, turning the wheel with one hand. "That makes two of us."
The car hummed down the long stretch of road, the sun bleeding low enough to set the asphalt shimmering. Ariel hadn't answered him after that—hadn't argued, hadn't even breathed loud enough to count. She just stared out the window like she thought if she looked hard enough, the world would give her a refund for her life.
Lux didn't push. He'd already heard enough. Enough to know she wasn't a siren, wasn't cursed, wasn't some freak anomaly. She was a cooked ledger, a forged invoice dressed up in skin. Someone had run the longest-running con he'd seen in a while—stealing a mermaid, branding her defective, and bleeding her dry until the revenue stream collapsed.
Classic.
And now? Now she was sitting in his passenger seat like a bankrupt company hoping someone would buy out her debts.
The mansion gates slid open as his car approached, the black marble walls gleaming under silver runes. Palm trees lined the drive, swaying lazily in an artificial breeze that smelled faintly of salt and ozone—luxury-level aesthetics. Mist curled across the stones like a fog machine had been programmed to "seductive wealth."
Lux exhaled, slowing the car. "Home sweet hostile takeover," he muttered.
Ariel blinked as the gates yawned wider. Her lips parted. "This is… yours?"
Lux smirked. "Unless I accidentally stole someone else's deed. But yeah."
She turned her head fully for the first time, eyes wide. "You're rich." Her voice trembled—not with greed, but with shock. "More… richer than my family ever was."
He killed the engine, fingers drumming the wheel. "Correction. Not your family anymore."
Her shoulders tightened. She didn't answer.
Lux opened his door and slid out, the late-summer heat rolling over him like an open oven. The air clung to skin, damp, pressing, reminding him of why mermaids didn't do so well on land. He circled the car, tugging his cuff straight, and pulled open the passenger door.
Ariel didn't move. She sat stiff, clutching her plain dress like it was armor.
"C'mon," Lux said, extending his hand. "Time to exit."
She hesitated, staring at his palm like it was some trick. But finally, trembling, she set her hand in his. Her skin was cool, clammy, damp like seawater that had dried too long. He tugged her lightly, expecting resistance.
Instead, the moment she tried to stand, her knees buckled. She collapsed back into the seat with a soft gasp.
Lux arched a brow. "Really?"
"I—" She tried again, forcing her legs under her, but they wobbled like wet parchment. She winced. Her breath came short. "I can't…"
Lux glanced at the sky. Hot. Mid-summer. Sun pressing down like a tax audit. God knew how long she'd been wandering out there before he'd picked her up. And she was a mermaid—dragging gills into a desert world.
"Yeah," he muttered. "Figures."
He crouched, sliding one arm under her knees and the other behind her back. She startled, eyes widening. "Wait—"
"Save it," Lux said, and lifted her like a princess. Her weight was nothing. He straightened, smirk twitching as her face flushed crimson.
"You don't have to—" she tried.
"I don't," Lux agreed, carrying her up the steps anyway. "But you look about two seconds from collapsing into a liquidity crisis, sweetheart. And I hate bad investments."
Her hands tightened on his shirt, knuckles white, but she didn't argue again.
Inside, the mansion buzzed with low-level chaos. Servants moved like cogs in an expensive clock, arms stacked with folded clothes and glassware. The air smelled of polished oak, faint incense, and pride—the literal kind, since her aura was already here.
Sira.
Lux had about three seconds to prepare before she appeared in the hall, her silk gown trailing. She leaned against the column, smirk sharp enough to cut.
"Oh," she purred. "Bring another girl already?"
Her eyes flicked from Ariel in his arms to his face. Her lips curved slow. Smug. Too smug.
Lux didn't bite. Didn't answer. He just adjusted his hold on Ariel and walked past. He wasn't in the mood for Pride's commentary panel.
"Not even a denial?" Sira called after him, her voice velvet and claws all at once.
"Nope," Lux shot back lazily.
Her laugh followed him down the corridor.
Instead of the bedroom wing, he veered right—toward the inner courtyard. The air cooled as he stepped under the arch. Water shimmered in the sunlight, the pool spread wide and deep, rippling like glass. Luxury blue tiles caught the light in sharp glints.
Without ceremony, Lux stopped at the edge and tipped her in.
Ariel gasped, arms flailing before the water swallowed her with a splash.
She surfaced in panic, hair plastered to her cheeks, eyes wild. "Ah—no, please—don't look!"
Her voice cracked into a sob. She curled against herself, trying to cover what wasn't coverable. Because where legs had been, a long tail now gleamed—scales flashing iridescent under the water, violet and pearl in the sunlight.
Her tail flicked once, sending ripples across the pool.
"Don't look!" she cried again, voice breaking. "I'm cursed!"
Lux crouched at the pool's edge, one hand braced on his knee, gaze steady.
"You know that's normal, right?" he said flatly.
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