Harem Startup : The Demon Billionaire is on Vacation-Chapter 160 - 88.8 Billion

Chapter 160 – 88.8 Billion

Lux didn’t speed.

He didn’t have to.

The world around him moved slow—sluggish from late-night traffic and too much perfume.

His thoughts were spinning.

88.8 billion soul credits.

That bounty still burned behind his eyes like a neon migraine. It wasn’t the number, really. It was the message. A price like that wasn’t about payment. It was a declaration. A warning. A flashing sign hung across the underworld that screamed ’This man isn’t supposed to exist anymore.’

That was new.

And messy.

And deeply, deeply annoying.

He turned onto the private lane toward the Sovereign Grand Hotel, tires kissing pavement smooth as sin. The massive glass tower loomed above, decadent and pretentious and fully comped by a loyalty program he never signed up for.

He parked.

Helmet off. Gloves stored. No theatrics.

He strode past the fountain and automatic doors with the kind of effortless elegance that made bellboys straighten their ties. The scent inside was tailored to the wealthy—jasmine, old money, and chilled marble. Soft piano played through the air vents. Everything was expensive and emotionally sterile.

He didn’t say a word to anyone.

Didn’t smile.

Didn’t even look at the girls near the cocktail lounge who definitely noticed him. One of them, a fox-eared beauty in a silk dress, turned a little too fast. Her drink nearly spilled.

He ignored it.

His head was somewhere else.

He tapped the elevator button.

It dinged politely. The doors slid open like they’d been waiting all day just to be useful to him.

Inside, he hit his floor.

Then waited.

Of course, it wasn’t empty. Two women stepped in on the 9th floor. One was wearing heels she couldn’t handle. The other had hair like gold thread and a dress that barely covered ambition.

They saw him.

Of course, they saw him.

He looked like what nightmares dreamed about when they got rich. His hair was tousled from the wind. His eyes still glowed faintly. His shoulders were loose, but his posture screamed don’t.

One of them nudged the other.

The braver one smiled.

"Long night?"

Lux didn’t even blink.

Silence.

The elevator kept going.

They didn’t speak again.

Because there was something cold in his eyes.

Not rage. Not malice.

Just... tired venom.

The doors opened with a soft chime.

Ding!

He stepped out without a word.

Down the hallway. Past a cart of champagne. Past another woman leaning on a wall texting someone who would never be enough.

He reached his suite.

Tapped the keycard.

The reader blinked green.

He opened the door, stepped inside, shut it behind him.

Then finally...

"Seriously?" he snapped, spinning to face no one. "A bounty? Why?"

The lights flickered softly. The suite’s temperature adjusted to his comfort. Everything in the room—the sofa, the marble counter, the ridiculous velvet-lined minibar—held still as if the entire hotel had learned long ago not to interrupt him mid-rant.

[Ah. Welcome home.]

[Would you prefer ambient jazz or dramatic thunderstorm sounds while you process your targeted extinction?]

Lux groaned. Loud.

He flopped into the armchair like a drama prince returning from war. His legs flung over one arm of the seat, head tilted back like he was auditioning for a perfume ad called "Regret: by Hell."

"I mean—ugh!"

He threw one arm toward the ceiling.

"I get it, okay? I understand! I’m the contract maker, the oathbound calculator, the fine-print nightmare. I built the vaults. I run the numbers. I make emperors cry on spreadsheets."

[Confirmed.]

"But it’s my vacation!" he barked. "I took one! One. Break. I left the boardroom. I came here to drink espresso, touch thighs, tits, maybe play some piano shirtless if the mood hits."

[You’re unusually specific today.]

"I don’t want to rewrite treaties right now!" he snapped. "I want to sleep until noon, rob a few auctions, maybe flirt with a demigoddess in a rooftop bath and not be shot at by discount assassin twins with daddy issues or trapped in Limbo by unknown Seraphim!"

The room was silent again.

Even the minibar lights dimmed like they felt guilty.

Lux buried his face in his hands and exhaled hard. His breath fogged against his palms.

He was so tired.

Not physically. Not really.

Just... cosmically annoyed.

[Would you like a calming drink suggestion? Perhaps a lavender-infused blood espresso? Infernal realm style?]

Lux groaned into his hands. "I’d like a refund on reality."

[Unfortunately, your soul is non-refundable.]

He dropped his arms, slouched deeper into the chair.

"This was supposed to be easy," he muttered. "I just wanted to spend a century being a harmless incubus. Seduce some trust fund nightmares. Make some heirs. Maybe traumatize one or two arrogant billionaires."

[And instead you’ve gained a global bounty.]

"I didn’t start any of that."

[You rarely do.]

Lux tilted his head. The ceiling spun slightly. He stared at it like it might apologize.

A soft bing echoed.

He pulled out his system feed—a projected screen hovering, edged in gold with a coffee stain on the corner because life refused to respect him.

[Incoming Message: Corvus.]

Lux opened it with a tired blink.

[CORVUS: Phone scrubbed. Three layers of tracking removed.]

[Source tree leads to celestial IP masking through infernal chains.]

[Original bounty—issued 3 months ago. Small scale. Celestial.]

[Bounty increased 6 hours ago by someone with access to Hell’s Prime Connection Tier.]

[Also the phone tried to spy on your inventory so I incinerated its code with my teeth.]

[Gonna nap in a firewall. Don’t die.]

Lux stared.

Then hissed through his teeth. "Of course it came from both sides."

[How wonderful. The bureaucracy of Heaven and Hell finally agrees on something: you.]

He stood slowly. Stretched.

Walked toward the window.

Outside, the city glittered like a jewelry box owned by a crime syndicate. Beautiful. Chaotic. Pretending to be clean.

He pressed one hand to the glass.

"I’m going to need new clothes," he muttered.

[Would you like to shop based on battle resistance, seduction probability, or asset exposure?]

"...All three."

[Very well.]

"Send them to Carson’s Mansion in less than a week. I want them there once I take over the mansion next week."

[Understood.]

Lux stared out at the street far below.

Somewhere down there, people were laughing. Kissing. Arguing over wine lists. Some were maybe dying. Others falling in love. None of them had bounties the size of small nations stapled to their existence.

He didn’t envy them.

But he could use a day off.

"Also... Give me thirty minutes," he said quietly.

[To rest?]

"To prepare myself. I need to visit the Upper Realm again."