Harem Startup : The Demon Billionaire is on Vacation

Chapter 200 – Personal Stake

Lylith’s smile disappeared for a beat. Her mask cracked—barely—but it was enough for him to see it.

Respect.

And maybe... a tiny hint of desire.

Because it wasn’t the line that got her.

It was the nerve.

”You’re dangerous,” she murmured.

Lux’s grin widened. ”I’m worse when I’m bored.”

She chuckled softly, her tail curling again beneath her.

”You want a personal stake?”

”Exactly.”

Her voice went softer now, more measured. ”And if I give it?”

”Then you get me.” He paused. ”For the night.”

She tilted her head. ”One night?”

”Yes.”

Another pause. Longer this time.

Lylith finally set her goblet down again, this time with finality. She stood—not fully, but tall enough to bring her face level with his. Coils rising beneath her like a throne lifting its empress.

”You’re not like the others,” she said, quietly.

”No,” he agreed. ”That’s kind of the point.”

Their eyes met.

Red to gold.

Queen to devil.

And for a moment, neither spoke. The room held its breath.

Then she extended a hand.

Her fingers glittered with rings worth more than most countries.

”Deal,” she said. ”But if I give you me, you’d better be worth the price.”

Lux took her hand, gently but firmly.

”Always am.”

[She likes you. Emotion: 74% interest. 39% danger. 100% jewelry obsession.]

’Perfect,’ Lux thought.

He released her hand and turned toward the velvet box again.

”So,” he said casually. ”Shall we go ruin some forgeries?”

Lylith smiled, slow and dangerous.

”Let’s make some liars cry.”

Lux chuckled under his breath, adjusting the cuffs of his jacket. ”Lead the way, Your Jewel-Encrusted Majesty.”

And just as he moved to follow her—

His phone buzzed. Once. Then again.

The tone wasn’t ominous. Just polite. Sharp. Like an expensive fountain pen tapping glass.

Lux sighed and pulled it from his pocket.

The name on the screen glowed clear as day.

Mira Xianlong.

Of course.

He slid a thumb across the screen and lifted the phone to his ear.

”Hello.”

Mira’s voice came through, clipped and cool with just the right amount of passive-aggressive restraint. ”Where are you?”

”Technically?” Lux said, leaning against one of the glittering display pedestals like this was normal. ”At the exhibition.”

”You’re supposed to be with me,” she said, every word precise, edged. ”I had you on a list.”

He opened his mouth to reply—

And then the phone was plucked cleanly from his hand.

Lux blinked.

”Excuse—”

Lylith, lounging once more with the ease of someone who expected this moment, raised the phone to her lips. Her voice rolled out smooth, sultry, and unapologetically smug.

”He’s with me, Mira.”

A beat of silence.

Lux could hear the temperature drop through the phone. Not literally, but it felt like the room dimmed just from Mira’s silence.

”...Lylith Seravelle,” Mira said flatly. Not a question. A verdict.

”Yes,” Lylith said sweetly. ”You sound surprised.”

”I am,” Mira said, voice now honed into something pointed and lovely, like a high-grade blade dipped in silk. ”Mostly because you’re not even on the guest list.”

”I don’t need to be,” Lylith replied. ”I am the list.”

Lux reached for his phone with a deadpan stare. ”Alright, can we not make this a pissing match over whose invitation had better ink?”

But Mira wasn’t done. ”How did she even get you?”

Lux scratched the back of his neck and gave her the honest version. ”She, uh... kind of kidnapped me.”

Mira made a noise so elegant and infuriated it could’ve broken a porcelain vase.

”She what?”

Lylith grinned and rolled her eyes, flicking a stray jewel back into place on her collar. ”He’s exaggerating. Just stretch the details a little.”

”Stretch?” Lux said, glancing around. ”You sent armed men to my door.”

”They didn’t shoot you,” she pointed out, passing him the phone like it wasn’t currently burning a hole in space.

He took it back. ”Mira, I’ll meet you later. After I’m done here.”

Another pause. Long. Calculating.

Mira exhaled.

”Tsk! We’ll talk later.”

Then the line went dead.

Lux stared at the phone screen for a moment longer.

He pocketed the phone and turned to Lylith, who was watching him with an amused tilt of her head, her fingers idly toying with a sapphire-studded bracelet.

”You know,” Lux said dryly, ”you could’ve just waited ten more minutes and we could’ve avoided international gem warfare.”

She smiled, unapologetic. ”But where’s the fun in that?”

Her tail coiled lazily across the floor, glinting with every movement. Her scales caught the overhead light like molten armor.

Lux sighed. ”Okay. One exhibition. Then I’m leaving before you start calling me yours in front of an audience. Just remember to pay me.”

”Oh, don’t be shy,” Lylith purred. ”I’d only say it if you performed well.”

He gave her a look. ”That sounded weird.”

”Did it?”

”Yes.”

She didn’t look sorry.

They exited the private lounge in silence, the guards flanking them like statues with manners. The door opened into the main exhibition chamber—a grand ballroom converted into an artifact showcase. Marble floors, glistening glass cases, and glittering guests swanning about in couture that cost more than some city budgets.

Chandeliers loomed overhead like floating halos of judgment. Classical music wafted in from a string quartet too bored to fake excitement anymore.

And the artifacts?

Lined up like prey.

Golden statues. Runes etched into cracked jade. Blades of folded myth. And enough magical interference humming through the air.

He let out a low breath, not quite a sigh. ”Huh.”

It wasn’t awe. It wasn’t even amusement. Just the sound someone makes when they walk into a room that thinks it’s impressive.

The exhibition hall was grand, sure. Marble floors, high glass ceilings that let in just enough of the dying afternoon light to make the gold accents gleam. Strings hummed in the corner—four very well-paid musicians pretending to enjoy their 17th round of Baroque essentials. Guests milled about in overpriced couture, holding flutes of something expensive enough to make up for how bored they looked.

Lux scanned the space and fought the urge to yawn.

”You haven’t even seen the fakes yet,” Lylith murmured beside him, her voice practically purring. ”They’re like badly cut diamonds. Pretty from a distance. Embarrassing under pressure.”

He arched a brow. ”Ironic. That’s how people describe most relationships.”

She laughed—soft, indulgent. Like she was truly enjoying herself.