Harem Startup : The Demon Billionaire is on Vacation

Chapter 875 – Greed Doesn’t Chain

Meanwhile, Yue and Liang were in Yue’s room.

Same four walls, same cedar beams, same latticed windows pinching sunlight into polite diamonds on the floorboards, and yet the air felt thinner, like the room had exhaled and never inhaled again.

Everything had been cleaned, polished, dusted for five hundred years, but the soul of the space had gone dormant while she was chained in Kaelmor’s oubliette.

Silk wall scroll. A young dragon swooped over plum blossoms. She’d painted that brushstroke by impatient brushstroke, grumbling about shading. Now it looked... amateur, yet painfully earnest. She touched the edge. No spark of nostalgia, just fabric and dried ink.

Near the dressing screen sat her old qin, strings restrung every decade by dutiful retainers who assumed she might bust down the door any moment and demand a concerto. Yue plucked a single note, pure, bright, hopelessly lonely. It fell flat onto the floor and rolled away.

Liang, hands folded in his sleeves, watched her tour the reliquary of her former life. The patriarch kept a respectful three-pace distance, as though she might fracture like porcelain. She almost laughed, dragons feared breaking porcelain more than each other.

He cleared his throat. ”Ancestor, are you certain you wish to remain with that—” a delicate pause ”—devil?”

Yue’s fingers settled on a lacquer comb inlaid with mother-of-pearl clouds. ”Yes.”

”No hesitation.” Liang sounded like he’d expected at least a dramatic sigh.

”I barely hesitated leaping out a burning airship once. Commitment isn’t my problem.”

Liang’s brows furrowed. ”If this is motivated by fear of Kaelmor, we can construct wards and barriers, sigils cut from core mountain jade, a phalanx of phoenix wardens—”

”Pointless.” She set the comb down. ”Kaelmor eats barriers for dessert and flosses with phoenix feathers. Lux is the only chance that isn’t delusional.”

”But—” Liang gestured helplessly at shelves of folded brocades, each one stamped with centuries of tradition. ”Our clan can protect its own.”

Yue sighed, soft but sharp. ”Grandson” because that’s what he effectively was, just wrapped in extra generations ”I know you worry, but this is beyond clan-politics strong. It’s existential-scale strong.”

He hesitated, then dropped the big question like a ceremonial gong. ”Are you... in love with him?”

Her spine stiffened. She turned, studied the ancient patriarch, silver hair pooling like moonlight over crimson silk. He truly looked worried, lines around his eyes etched deeper than duty.

”Say I am,” Yue answered slowly. ”Would you find it amusing?”

Liang shook his head. ”Not amusing... singular. Unprecedented. He may have enchanted you.”

She actually laughed. It pinged around the quiet room like mischievous wind chimes. ”Liang, I broke out of a mind-cage that could humble sovereigns. If Lux tried sorcery, I’d snap it before he finished the incantation.”

”But feelings,” Liang pressed gently, ”are subtler.”

Yue walked to the window seat where an untouched chessboard sat mid-game, all those years and no one dared finish the match. She brushed dustless pieces into proper alignment, remembering the strategy she’d abandoned the night Kaelmor’s chain coiled around her throat.

Feelings, subtle? Maybe.

But the moment Lux shattered her seal, and then laughed at the idea of owning her, something jagged and electric cut through five hundred years of quiet gray.

Bright.

Reckless.

Alive.

Her fingertip nudged the jade general two squares forward. ”He is different,” she said, voice soft yet ringing like a gong in still air.

Liang’s lips twitched, a smile trying on its old armor. ”Different, yes, but clan eyes see a devil whisking away their ancestor. Sentiment isn’t logic.”

Yue traced the etched river on the chessboard, remembering late-night matches with her uncle. ”Weather can be redirected. Winds favor the mountain that does not break.”

Liang folded his hands. ”Poetic, but elders prefer spreadsheets of loyalty.”

”Then show them numbers,” she countered. ”Count the centuries they left me to rust and the minutes it took him to free me. Plot that on your axis of trust.”

He exhaled, half laugh, half surrender. ”A graph that damning might shatter the abacus.”

”Let it.” She lifted the jade piece, twirling it once a tiny spinning dragon. ”Greed doesn’t chain, Greed bargains. I’d rather gamble on bargaining than on locked doors. They see me walking.” Yue lifted her chin. ”Free by my own choice, something this clan allowed Kaelmor to deny for too long.”

That hit.

Liang’s shoulders sagged a fraction. Dragons did not sag.

Liang bowed his head, respect tempered with worry. ”Very well, Ancestor. I will prepare the clan for new math.”

She softened her tone. ”I won’t sever ties. But I’m not moving back in and embroidering pillows either.”

Liang nodded, resigned but relieved. ”Then at least take some mementos.”

Yue glanced around. Comb, qin, scroll. Artifacts that felt like museum replicas of a person she barely remembered. ”Maybe the chessboard,” she said quietly. ”The rest... archive it.”

He bowed. ”As you wish.”

Yue turned once more, sweeping the room with eyes that saw its emptiness clearly now. The bed draped in brocade, the writing desk stocked with inks long dried, the porcelain orchid vase holding silk flowers because no one wanted petals to wilt in her absence. Each item shouted legacy, none whispered home.

’Lux will tease me about minimalism,’ she thought with a small, private smile.

She took the chessboard, tucking it under one arm. Liang opened the door.

As they stepped into the corridor, he murmured, ”I will negotiate the wards nonetheless, around his mansion as well.”

Yue allowed herself the tiniest grin. ”We’ll see about that.”

They walked toward the magnolia courtyard. Sunlight strobed through lattice shadows, petals drifting like lazy confetti.

Liang said, ”Feast preparations will honor both tradition and... demons.”

”Good.”

Liang’s chuckle rumbled like distant thunder. ”Perhaps this devil is already family.”

Yue considered that as they emerged into the courtyard’s clean spring air. She set the chessboard on a stone bench, turned a black knight three degrees, future opening gambit. Wind picked up the page of her new life and fluttered it open wide.

”Yes,” she murmured, half to herself, half to the mountain sky. ”Perhaps he is.”