Harem Startup : The Demon Billionaire is on Vacation

Chapter 537 – Muted

He should’ve felt weird.

Or awkward.

Or worried about how the others would react.

But he didn’t.

He just felt calm.

Lullaby was still breathing softly on his lap, plushie squished between her cheek and his thigh, her oversized sweater sleeves flopped over the edge of the couch like she’d melted into his personal space with full contractual confidence. It was... comforting.

His mind felt quiet.

Still.

The usual crowd in his head... the voices of self-correction, the endless internal pressure to be more, do more, fix more were... muted. Not gone. Just... sedated. Like someone finally turned the volume down from a scream to a hum.

He didn’t even realize how much it had built up again.

How loud it got lately. Ever since the bounty. Ever since the seal. Ever since Zoltarin.

That bastard.

Even thinking his name used to make Lux’s jaw clench. His magic pulse in static bursts. Because he couldn’t touch him. Couldn’t beat him. Couldn’t erase that smug look from his uncle’s face, trapped behind gilded layers of immunity and ancient oaths.

He was born into a losing war.

But right now?

He wasn’t losing.

He was... breathing.

Lux gently ran his fingers through Lullaby’s hair once more. Then whispered, ”Thank you, Lullaby.”

She didn’t stir.

Didn’t react. ℴ

But it didn’t matter. She’d hear it. Somehow. She always did.

His gaze softened, if only for a second.

Then it faded.

Replaced by something sharper. Colder. Purposeful.

That wasn’t the expression of a sleepy demon prince on vacation anymore.

That was the expression of the CFO of Hell.

He inhaled. Held it.

Then exhaled slow.

And lifted one hand.

With a flick of his fingers, runes flared into existence, delicate, glowing green-gold symbols just below his palm.

[Initializing sync...]

One by one, the holograms opened like petals unfolding. Panels of data, mana logs, maps, and charts flickered into view, arranged in perfect vertical lines.

[Good morning. You look better, sir.]

”I am,” Lux replied.

He didn’t elaborate.

He didn’t need to.

[Would you like to view your stat changes from last night’s intercourse with Naomi?]

Lux arched a brow.

”No,” he said. ”That can wait.”

[Very well. I’ve archived it under: ’Sexual Output: Mortal Variant—Satisfaction Level: 99%.’]

Lux made a noise halfway between a sigh and a choke.

”Don’t name it that.”

[Too late. File locked. Backup auto-shared with Naomi’s Soul-Contract ledger.]

He exhaled again. Not even mad. Just tired.

[Would you prefer to resume with your economic charts? I have new Hell debt fluctuations ready for review.]

”No,” Lux said, gaze narrowing. ”I want a list. All of them. The networks. Especially the old ones.”

There was a pause. The holograms stilled.

[Specify parameters.]

”Any and all networks. Active, broken, destroyed, sealed, or forgotten, that were ever connected to the old Greed Tower,” Lux said. ”I want them all. Even the ancient ones.”

[Sir, most of those were cut off centuries ago. Your father, Zavros, eliminated nearly every known pathway before you were born. He feared corruption through the old tower network.]

”I know,” Lux murmured. His voice was lower now. Sharper. ”But that doesn’t mean they’re gone.”

[You suspect latent links.]

”I don’t suspect,” Lux said. ”I know.”

Another pause.

[...Understood. Compiling now. This will require deep crawl into restricted archives and memory-shunted strata. Estimated time: three minutes.]

The screens blurred and shifted, thousands of lines of data cycling faster than any mortal eye could track. The color palettes flicked between crimson and chartreuse as dead channels and sealed magical routes were exposed, decrypted, categorized.

Lux leaned back slightly.

His coffee was still warm.

But his fingers tapped rhythmically against the cup’s edge.

Zoltarin wasn’t just some sealed villain or political ghost. He was a player. A manipulator. Someone who understood the architecture of power down to its nerve endings. And his Grandfather... groomed him for the Lord of Greed’s seat. So yeah, he must be that smart. Same as him or smarter, maybe. If he was moving now, even through a seal, that meant...

He found a network.

A thread left untouched.

And Lux?

Lux was going to find it.

”I want it all,” he said again, quieter now. More dangerous. ”Even if it’s decayed. Even if it was collapsed. If it existed once, it can be reactivated. You know how royal demons work. We don’t lose networks. We bury them. We bribe the memory to forget.”

[You believe Zoltarin found one?]

”I think he made one. Or resurrected one. Or corrupted one,” Lux said. ”And I think the bastards helping him don’t even know what they’re playing with.”

[...Understood.]

[Injecting node-pulse scan. Cross-referencing with royal network bloodlines. Compiling list of dormant keyholders, ritual anchors, and sigil fragments.]

The room darkened slightly. The holograms flared brighter. Lines of forgotten names appeared. Some scrawled in Abyssal code. Others written in the forbidden dialect of the First Sin.

Lux’s eyes scanned fast.

”Here,” he muttered. ”That one. House of Veth. Why is it showing 1% activity?”

[Residual ping. The house fell two centuries ago. Its assets were absorbed by House Naram.]

”And House Naram?”

[Destroyed in the Thirty-Sixth Infernal Merger War.]

”Then who owns that node now?”

[Unknown. Cross-referencing...]

Lux didn’t move.

Didn’t blink.

He was back.

Fully.

The man who once balanced the currency war between Hell and Heaven without spilling a drop of wine. The demon who engineered a soul debt collapse in the Mortal Realm and made four lords retire in shame. The CFO who turned Greed from an idea into a dominion.

[New match found.]

[Current activity matches signature from the old Greed Tower. Subnet active. Location: obscured. Last ping: last night.]

Lux’s blood ran cold.

”...Of course,” he said, laughing bitterly. ”Right under our damn noses.”

The ruby.

The lamia.

The proxy.

He wasn’t the only one running long games.

But he’d make sure he was the last one standing when all the players fell.

”Trace it,” he said. ”Give me origin. I don’t care if it’s buried beneath seventy contracts and a blood-sworn trade pact.”

[Very well, sir.]

He closed his eyes for a moment. Just one breath. One inhale.

Lullaby still breathed on his lap, completely unaware or maybe completely aware, of what she’d helped awaken in him.

The calm wasn’t gone.

But the edge?

The steel beneath it was sharper than ever.