Harem Startup : The Demon Billionaire is on Vacation

Chapter 347 – I’m Not Here to Play Angel Investor

Lux stepped closer, eyes narrowing. The code running on the side monitors looked dense, alive—lines of script crawling faster than most mortals could keep up with. He could almost feel the intelligence humming beneath it. Like a system that wanted to be more than just a game.

Elias gestured to the rig. ”Would you... like to try it?”

Lux’s smirk returned. ”Always.”

He slid into the seat like a king claiming his throne.

Elias hurried to adjust the straps, fumbling with the glove sensors, while the rest of the devs watched with wide eyes.

The headset lowered.

For a moment, darkness. Then—light.

Lux stood in a digital wasteland, a realm coded in fractured obsidian and crimson skies. Data storms howled in the distance, the ground rippling under his boots like living glass. He flexed his hands—perfect haptic feedback, smooth as silk. Every motion registered instantly.

A voice echoed in the air, low and resonant.

[Welcome, Player.]

Lux chuckled. ”Oh, I like this already.”

He walked forward, testing the physics. The air shimmered with fireflies of data. He reached out—one flick of his finger—and the entire sky bent, storm clouds warping, as though the system had felt his intent and overcorrected.

Elias’s voice broke through faintly from the real world. ”It... adapts to your subconscious as well. It reads impulses, desires, even emotions. That’s why it’s called Erebus Gate—it’s a reflection of the player’s inner self.”

Lux’s smirk sharpened. Inside the simulation, the ground beneath his feet shifted—forming golden tiles, shimmering with infernal script. His subconscious wasn’t subtle. Even this mortal system could taste his Greed.

He exhaled, pulling the headset off. The room came back into focus. Elias was watching him nervously.

Lux placed the headset down gently, then leaned back, lacing his fingers together. ”Not bad,” he said at last. ”Not bad at all.”

Elias swallowed. ”So... would you consider investing?”

Lux laughed softly, low and dangerous. ”Investing? Elias, I’m not here to play angel investor. I don’t throw pennies into wishing wells.”

Elias paled. ”Then—”

Lux leaned forward, eyes gleaming. ”I’m here to own.”

The room froze.

Elias stammered, ”O-own?”

Lux nodded, tone deceptively casual. ”Erebus Gate has potential. Immense potential. More than you realize. But right now? You’re running it out of a glorified garage. Duct-tape rigs. Debt collectors breathing down your neck. And enemies like Thomas trying to bury you.” He smirked, lazy and cruel. ”You’ll burn out before you even hit alpha release.”

Elias’s fists clenched. ”That’s not fair—”

”It’s reality,” Lux cut in. He leaned back again, tapping two fingers against the desk. ”But me? I see beyond that. I see a network. A global lattice. Mortal minds jacked in, bleeding data, desire, and obsession. Every choice they make, every coin they spend, every fantasy they indulge—it all feeds back to us. Not just a game, Elias. A marketplace. A temple. A new world economy hidden in plain sight.”

His smirk sharpened. ”And I’m very good at running economies.”

The devs exchanged glances, half-terrified, half-hungry. Elias looked down, conflicted. ”But... it’s ours. It’s my dream.”

Lux’s voice softened, just enough to sound almost kind. ”And I’m not here to take your dream away. I’m here to make sure it doesn’t die.”

The words hung heavy in the air. Lux could feel the tension in the room—the desperation, the fear, the longing. Perfect fuel.

He extended his hand across the desk. ”So, Elias. Show me the contracts. Let’s make this a win-win. I’ll give you stability. Resources. Protection. And in return?” His smile turned wicked. ”You’ll give me the gate to every mortal soul that logs in.”

Elias hesitated—just a breath—then placed his trembling hand in Lux’s.

The deal began.

Lux’s fingers closed with easy pressure, smooth and firm, like a snake coiling around prey. His smile was relaxed, but there was nothing casual about his eyes. They glowed faintly, sharp under the dim office lighting, and Elias swore the temperature in the room dipped.

”Good,” Lux said softly. ”Now let’s talk specifics.”

Elias pulled his hand back too quickly, like he’d touched something that burned. He glanced at the rest of the team, then motioned awkwardly for everyone to give them space. Chairs scraped, hushed voices filled the room, and the devs drifted back toward their screens, pretending to work but stealing glances at Lux like moths circling flame.

Lux leaned forward across the desk, resting his elbows lightly, fingertips steepled. He looked perfectly at ease, but there was steel in his tone. ”Here’s how this goes. I don’t play at charity. I don’t hand out checks to make myself feel good. I build empires. And empires need clear rules.”

Elias nodded quickly, throat dry. ”Of course. We can negotiate terms—”

Lux cut him off with a slight tilt of his head. ”Terms aren’t up for negotiation, Elias. You’ll find I’m very straightforward.” His smirk deepened. ”Fifty-one percent equity. Controlling share.”

Elias froze. ”F-fifty-one?”

”Majority stake,” Lux said, voice silk, each word deliberate. ”That gives me control. Decisions go through me. Your dream stays alive because I keep it alive. Simple math.”

Elias’s face twisted, somewhere between panic and indignation. ”But—this is my company. My work. If you take majority control, then what am I? Just an employee?”

Lux chuckled low, shaking his head. ”No. Not an employee. A founder. The beating heart of the project. But you, my dear Elias, are also broke. In debt. One mistake away from bankruptcy. Without me, Erebus Gate dies before beta. With me? It thrives.”

He leaned closer, lowering his voice until it was just for Elias. ”You’ll still be CEO. You’ll still make your speeches, lead your team, sign your artwork. But I’ll own the spine of it. The bones. The blood. That’s how the world works. And you know it.”

Elias swallowed hard, his hands clenching against the desk. He wanted to argue. Lux could see it in his eyes—the pride, the fragile sense of ownership. But fear weighed heavier. Fear of losing everything.