Harem Startup : The Demon Billionaire is on Vacation
Chapter 59: Checkout Dash

Chapter 59: Checkout Dash

Chapter 59 – Checkout Dash

Lux stepped into the boutique like he owned it.

Not in the usual ’celebrity sighting, cue the staff whispering’ kind of way.

No.

More like a wolf in a tailored coat strolling into a room full of decorative sheep.

Unbothered. Precise. Radiating a kind of casual dominance that made people look without realizing why they were looking.

The store was clean and soft-scented. Hints of expensive cologne, polished wood, and the faint sterile note of fresh packaging. Everything gleamed—from the polished marble floor to the high-end LED lighting designed to make rich people feel even richer.

A woman near the door, early 30s, wearing a minimalist black suit with the boutique’s signature silver pin, stepped up immediately with a trained smile.

"Welcome to Aurellian & Thorn," she said with practiced grace. "Is there anything I can help you with today?"

Lux’s eyes didn’t stay long. He swept the store with a glance.

"I need men’s clothes," he said.

She gestured lightly. "Second floor, sir."

He nodded once and strode toward the staircase without waiting. His boots made the faintest click against the polished stone steps—enough to draw attention. Enough to make two male employees near the shoes section glance up and pause their conversation.

When he reached the second floor, another staff member—a younger guy in a tailored vest and soft gray tie—stepped forward, hands politely clasped.

"I can give you some suggestions if you’d like, sir. What kind of style are you looking for?"

Lux didn’t answer.

He just moved.

Eyes scanning. Not wandering—scanning—like a man flipping through an old inventory list in his head and recognizing what was missing.

Then—

"This one," he said, grabbing a navy silk shirt and tossing it lightly to the staff.

The man scrambled slightly but caught it.

Lux moved on.

Another shirt. Black with faint charcoal pinstripes.

"Trousers, tailored, same section. Add it."

The staff nodded, moving quickly.

Lux was already past him.

He grabbed a pair of jet-black shoes with a sleek sole and gold lining around the tongue. "My size. These."

Two more followed.

Another watch—black dial, minimal face, leather band.

Some more shirts—one burgundy, one dark emerald.

Two formal trousers.

A night robe—charcoal gray.

All without checking tags.

Without asking.

Without missing a beat.

He knew which the good stuff or trash.

Another staff joined to help. Then a third. One of them had the silent panic of someone who hadn’t expected a storm to walk into their shift wearing dark healing auras and a wallet that didn’t blink at platinum tiers.

Lux didn’t care.

He knew his style.

He knew what fit.

And more importantly—he knew why he wore what he wore.

Not just to look good.

To intimidate. To control the board.

Clothes were leverage. Like every word. Every glance. Every deal.

He took a final coat—deep obsidian with a midnight blue sheen when it caught the light—and walked straight to the changing room.

"Give me five."

Inside, he stripped the clothes from earlier—blood-smudged, rumpled, still marked from that minor brush with divine assassination.

He looked in the mirror as he unbuttoned his shirt. His torso bore the fading shadows of a fight. Scratches already vanishing thanks to his bloodline.

He didn’t flinch at the sight.

Just folded the clothes neatly, tossed them outside the curtain, and said,

"Toss those. I’m done with them."

"Yes, sir."

He dressed.

One piece at a time.

Perfect fit.

He adjusted his cuffs. Smoothed the collar. Straightened the hem of the coat.

He looked good.

Of course he did.

But more importantly—he looked dangerous in the way wealth didn’t explain.

It wasn’t just the clothes.

It was the way he wore them.

Like they were armor.

And the man inside had survived wars.

When he came downstairs, the first floor staff straightened up instantly. He walked to the cashier counter with quiet, sharp intent, the soft click of his boots echoing against the boutique’s high ceiling like punctuation marks.

They were already calculating totals.

He didn’t ask for discounts. Didn’t check a single price tag.

While they scanned the watch, robe, and third pair of dress shoes, his gaze wandered toward the corner near the lounge display.

A flower bouquet.

Premade. Neatly wrapped.

Soft blush roses, some lilies, gold-trimmed leaves.

Clearly meant for gifts.

"I want that too," he said, pointing.

The girl behind the counter blinked. "Of course, sir."

Then his eyes shifted—drawn to another display.

Simple jewelry. Small, elegant, designed for impulse high-tier purchases.

Most of it was silver. Some moissanite sparkle. No diamonds. No platinum. No gold.

Tacky.

Cheap.

Still...

One piece caught his eye.

A slim bracelet with tiny intertwined wing motifs.

The kind Naomi might wear casually, even if she’d never admit it out loud.

"This one," he said, voice low. "Do you have a gold version?"

The staff hesitated. "I’m afraid we don’t carry the gold variant in-store, sir. That’s special order only."

He frowned slightly. Not in anger. Just in quiet disappointment.

"I don’t like cheap things," he murmured.

Still, he took it.

Placed it on the counter.

He could upgrade it later. Customize it. Embed something else.

But it felt wrong to leave with nothing.

Then—

His gaze shifted again.

A pair of earrings.

Shell pattern. Subtle curve. Elegant pearl inset.

Tasteful. Quietly oceanic.

His mind flicked instantly to her.

To Rava.

Yeah.

They suited her.

The cool tone, the shape. The vibe. Not flashy, but rooted. Like something pulled from a deep current and polished by time.

"I want that too," he said, nodding at the shell earrings.

They added it quickly.

He leaned against the marble counter as they packed everything. His arms folded, his expression unreadable.

And inside?

He was... thinking.

About Naomi.

About Rava.

About everything in between.

He didn’t play casual.

Everything he gave came with weight.

And if he touched someone’s life, he’d either ruin it or elevate it. There was no in-between.

He didn’t do "temporary."

And now...

He could feel it.

Something shifting.

Naomi had opened the door.

Rava had peeked inside.

The question wasn’t if they’d step in.

It was how long they’d last inside the storm.

Search the lightnovelworld.cc website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.