Harem Startup : The Demon Billionaire is on Vacation

Chapter 197 – Rabbit Hole

Unfortunately, the hesitation never came.

Instead, the man behind him pressed the gun just a little deeper against his back.

”Come with us.”

Lux’s eyes narrowed. ”We’re not going to talk here? Exchange names? Maybe throw in a brunch?”

”No.”

Flat. Bored. Like Lux hadn’t just floored all three of them thirty seconds ago.

He exhaled through his nose. ”Fine. But I’ve got a date after this, so let’s make it quick.”

[Should I notify the security? Not ITPS, but mortal security. Police.]

’No. Let’s see how deep this rabbit hole goes first.’

So he went.

Played along.

Not because he was afraid—hell no—but because he was curious. These weren’t bounty hunters. Weren’t random thugs. They moved too clean. Too rehearsed. There was order to their silence. The kind of silence that belonged to contracts, not chaos.

His bet?

That auction yesterday.

They made him walk. Gun still at his back, though hidden now beneath a long coat. The other two flanked him, Mana Blades now sheathed but buzzing faintly with suppressed magical tension. Lux could smell the mana—it crackled faintly in the air, like ozone and burning copper.

They looked like bodyguards now.

Suited. Stoic. Dangerous.

A perfect visual lie.

Down the elevator they went. Smooth jazz playing. Too calm. The kind of music meant to hide the violence brewing under expensive hotel tiles.

Lux didn’t speak. Not yet.

He watched their reflection in the mirrored elevator walls. Noted every twitch, every breath, every shift of stance.

Eventually, they stepped out into the lobby.

Eyes followed them—guests, receptionists, even one of the bellhops—but no one said anything.

Lux? He just smiled like a man who owned the place and the people in it.

They exited without fanfare.

Outside, a sleek black sedan waited at the curb, idling like it knew patience wasn’t a virtue—it was a trap.

One of the men opened the door.

Lux slid in, settling into the center seat. The interior smelled of fresh leather, faint cologne, and gun oil. The windows were tinted so dark they may as well have been shadows pressed into glass.

He didn’t bother trying to open the door again.

Instead, he sighed.

”Say,” Lux began, voice casual, ”you guys don’t want to give me a hint here? Why you’re taking me? A vague explanation? A dramatic monologue?”

One of them, the one seated across from him, just looked out the window.

Another rolled his shoulder like it was all just part of a checklist.

The last one finally spoke.

”You’ll find out soon enough. Shut up.”

Lux raised a brow. ”Wow. Courteous and charming. You’re just full of surprises.”

He leaned back and shut his mouth.

But not before giving his real order.

’System, send a message to Mira. Tell her she doesn’t need to pick me up. I’ll meet her at the exhibition. Get me the exact location.’

[Via phone or encrypted channel?]

’Phone. Casual.’

[Understood. Shall I inform her you’ve been kidnapped?]

’Unnecessary. I can handle them. They’re mortals anyway.’

[You say that, but you did get caught. Just saying.]

’I let them. I’m investigating.’

[Yes, sir. You’re so brave.]

The car ride was quiet.

Lux watched the city pass through cracks in the blackout tint. The streets shimmered beneath the harsh noon light—white glare bouncing off glass towers, turning windows into mirrors and sidewalks into heat traps. Pedestrians moved like oblivious ants. So normal. So mundane. And none of them knew there was a literal devil in the backseat of a kidnap van pretending to be a chauffeured ride.

He almost laughed.

Instead, he closed his eyes and focused on the mana around him. The binding spells were light. They hadn’t cast anything strong—no suppression fields. No seals. Not even surveillance blocking. That was interesting.

They didn’t fear him.

Or they didn’t know.

Big difference.

Half an hour passed.

The car finally pulled into a private loopway outside a tall, glass-paneled building. For a second, Lux frowned.

Not a fortress.

Not a blacksite.

Not even a private mansion in the hills.

No—this was an exhibition hall.

Modern. Clean. Massive.

Banners hung from chrome poles outside, advertising an ongoing event.

”GRAND RARE ARTIFACT SHOWCASE – AUTHENTICITY GUARANTEED”

Lux blinked.

Then squinted at the signage like it was personally insulting him.

”...Okay. That’s weird.”

The man next to him shoved him. ”Move.”

He stepped out, the warm air hitting him like an open-palm slap scented with concrete, exhaust, and rich-people perfume. Still confused. Still curious.

This wasn’t what he expected.

No chains. No hoods. No spooky mansion tucked behind a fog-drenched cemetery.

Just polished pavement, valet lines, and the hum of absurdly expensive cars parked with military precision.

His escorts didn’t say a word. Just nudged him toward the side entrance. Not the main gala entrance dripping in gold and gala gowns. No, the back door.

For a moment, Lux prepared himself for bloodstains, flickering lights, maybe even a serial killer aesthetic with motivational posters slapped over soundproof walls.

Instead?

A buttoned-down security checkpoint. And beyond it...

Velvet carpet. Frosted glass. Polished chrome. A private corridor with dimmed lights and walls that whispered money. Not blood.

Definitely not a murder hallway.

”...Fancy,” Lux murmured.

They turned a corner. One of the escorts stepped forward and pushed open a sleek double door. The hinges didn’t creak—they purred.

And inside?

A VIP room.

Not just VIP—dragon court tier.

The ceiling glittered with embedded sapphires. The air smelled like sandalwood and expensive tension. Cool, filtered, and laced with just enough perfume to seduce without smothering.

And there—lounging like the world owed her a tribute every morning—was the mastermind.

Lylith Seravelle.

The Lamia Queen of Jewelry.

She reclined on a long crimson velvet sofa shaped like temptation. Her coils were coiled in decadent layers, scaled tail wrapped beneath and around her like a thrown curtain made of serpentine luxury. Her red hair fell like molten rubies down her back, and jewels—so many jewels—dripped from her ears, wrists, neckline, even the crest of her head.

Rubies, sapphires, lunar pearls, cursed diamonds that whispered when no one was looking.

And all of them shimmered like they wanted to belong to her.

Because somehow, even the jewels obeyed her.