Harem Startup : The Demon Billionaire is on Vacation

Chapter 162 – I Came to Redeem Myself [Part 1]

He reached for the towel, one brow still raised.

”Still... It’s good. Weird. But good. Maybe the realm won’t completely implode while I’m out pretending to be human.”

[Confidence in current economic stabilization: 88%. Growing steadily. You remain statistically irreplaceable, however.]

”Damn right I do.”

He stepped away from the mirror, voice dry.

”Remind me to thank whoever bribed Varakan with lava wine or violence coupons. That was a power play.”

[Shall I log it under Internal Diplomatic Successes?]

”Sure.”

[Logged.]

Lux ran a hand through his wet hair. He stared at himself in the mirror.

All chaos.

And now officially the most hunted vacationer in history.

He blinked. Exhaled. Then slowly—very slowly—his lips curled upward into the kind of smile that meant something was either about to explode or get kissed.

”I guess,” he muttered to his reflection, ”I just need to throw on some nice clothes, toss on that ’Bless This Mess’ robe to look more... holy, and drink enough coffee to remember why I haven’t burned anything to the ground.”

Lux dressed and snapped his fingers.

Dimensional inventory flared—black and gold magic twisting open like a zipper in space. He reached in.

The robe shimmered in his hands. Heavenly silk, pristine white—until you read the glowing embroidered phrase stitched across the back in flawless Upper Realm script ”Bless This Mess.”

Subtle.

Lethally sarcastic.

Perfect.

He threw it on over a clean shirt and tailored slacks. Just holy enough to get past security, just smug enough to get noticed.

The robe shimmered once as it settled on his shoulders, the letters briefly glowing before vanishing. Hidden. Like him. Now he looked like someone who belonged in the Upper Realm. A soft, approachable bureaucrat with a sword hidden in the spreadsheet.

He grabbed the therapy voucher next. Flicked it between two fingers. It shimmered with divine authorization and the subtle scent of lavender and passive aggression.

”Coffee,” he said as he took the espresso.

Lux sipped. Bitter. Floral. Burned just enough to keep him sharp.

”Right,” he muttered, downing the rest in one go. ”Sanity restored. Regret pending.”

Then he walked toward the bathroom.

Opened the door.

Stopped.

It wasn’t his bathroom anymore.

Instead, it was an elevator.

A golden one.

Pearly trim. No buttons. No floor indicator. Just space. Smooth and impossibly white, like someone had skinned a cloud and lined it with good intentions.

Lux stared.

He stepped in.

The robe fluttered behind him.

The door slid closed with a gentle ding.

There was no control panel. Just silence.

Then motion.

Up.

Of course.

Always up.

The elevator didn’t hum. It glowed. Warm. Comfortable. Slightly smug. The kind of elevator that judged your moral alignment before deciding how fast to move.

He stood there for maybe ten seconds, arms crossed, voucher still between his fingers and ding!

The door slid open again.

No lobby.

No security check.

Not even a gate checkpoint with a clipboard angel asking for proof of holiness.

He stepped out into a perfectly lit hallway with silver-tile floors and ivory archways.

And there she was.

Celestaria.

Sitting on a floating couch that didn’t have legs—just light. One leg folded over the other, posture perfectly balanced between ”I meditate at dawn” and ”I could unmake your bloodline with a scroll.” Her robe shimmered faintly with layered blessing glyphs. Her wings were tucked but tense, like she was prepared for war, or worse... paperwork.

She didn’t speak immediately.

Just stared.

Deadpan.

Unblinking.

Two little angels hovered behind her—tiny, cherubic, completely unsettling. One was offering almond crackers. The other held a tall glass of oat milk like it had moral superiority over cows.

Lux blinked.

Then smirked.

”Oh,” he said, stepping forward with theatrical ease, ”you’ve prepared better than I thought.”

Celestaria arched an eyebrow. ”And you’re dressed better than I feared.”

Lux spread his arms slightly. ”Just needed a halo and I’m basically heaven-core now.”

”I wouldn’t go that far.”

He looked down at his robe.

Her eyes flicked to the therapy voucher between his fingers.

”Let me guess,” she said. ”You came to redeem that.”

”I came to redeem myself,” Lux said with a flourish. ”The voucher’s just a bonus.”

Celestaria’s wings twitched. ”I’m tired and this is outside my working hours. You have five minutes of my patience. Choose your words wisely.”

Lux held up the voucher between two fingers like a sacred relic. ”I believe this grants me full psychological indulgence, non-expiring, with optional celestial tea and judgment-free cookies.”

The cherub with the crackers held up a plate.

Celestaria exhaled slowly.

”Sit down, Lux.”

He did.

Across from her, robe gleaming, hair damp, still smelling faintly of espresso and divine irritation.

She sipped her tea.

He leaned back like he owned the office.

Which, let’s be honest—if Lux Vaelthorn ever decided to own the Upper Realm’s Compliance Tower, it would be renovated within the hour. Soft jazz. Espresso dispensers in the lobby. Golden carpets branded with cursed sigils that billed you on entry. A complete financial and aesthetic overhaul.

But right now?

None of that was in play.

No smirk on his lips. No coffee cup in hand. No trademark wink that usually made celestial secretaries file complaints and phone numbers in the same breath.

This wasn’t lobbying-mode Lux.

This was the real one.

The one who didn’t waste time when things got ugly.

He leaned forward, eyes sharp.

”Okay, I use the voucher, but I’m not here for the therapy.”

She blinked slowly.

”That was... expected.”

”I came to discuss.”

Celestaria set her tea down without breaking eye contact. Her expression didn’t change, but the tension in the room did. Slight. Cold. Like the glow from her wings dropped one watt in defense.

”I believe this is about something similar to Selena’s report?”

Her tone was smooth. Professional. But not dismissive. Never with him.

”You were trapped in a limbo zone. Surprise angel attack. Spatial fracture. She filed it this morning.” A pause. ”I already sent a formal response to you. A report will be opened. I need you to wait.”