Harem Startup : The Demon Billionaire is on Vacation
Chapter 84: All You Can Scream Buffet

Chapter 84: All You Can Scream Buffet

Chapter 84 – All You Can Scream Buffet

"Should I... open Hell’s finance reports?" he muttered to himself. "Just to check? Not to work. Just skim."

His voice even sounded fake to his own ears.

Just to skim.

Ha.

He knew exactly how that went. He’d open the infernal servers, click a tab, see an overdue soul transaction, and bam—five hours gone, three demons fined, one soul auction rerouted, and he’d somehow end up updating seven different budget matrices before realizing he hadn’t eaten lunch.

Again.

"Tsk," Lux clicked his tongue, brushing stray hair from his face. "I hope my damn motorcycle gets here soon."

The system dinged.

[You have received a new email.]

[Would you like me to read it aloud, or do you prefer dramatic suspense followed by public outbursts?]

"No. Just open it for me."

From: Celestial @heavenlight.admin

To: lux.vaelthorn @vaultnexus.infernal

Subject: Re: Clarification Required Regarding Artifact Side Effects (And the Part Where I Almost Died, Again)

Dear Mr. Vaelthorn,

Thank you for your colorful correspondence. I assure you it has been circulated around several interdepartmental break rooms to great amusement.

Regarding your concerns:

o The "unsanctioned angels" you refer to are part of a splinter faction known as Radiant Vow. They are not authorized by our office, nor do they share our approach to mortal-demon diplomacy.

o They do not wear name tags. We have suggested it. They declined.

o Yes, they are extremely dangerous. And yes, we acknowledge they are targeting you.

o No, this does not violate celestial protocol. The artifact you absorbed was listed as Tier-Z (Forbidden), and your usage of it did trigger a Multi-Realm Instability Flag.

We apologize for the vagueness in our original notification. Your "Congratulations" analogy has been noted for future warnings.

Clause 7.3 has been updated. It now includes red font and a blinking warning symbol.

Per your request, please find attached a non-exhaustive list of angels with registered grievances against you. Due to privacy laws, we cannot disclose full incident reports, but several names should be... familiar.

As always, we strongly recommend laying low and not inciting further divine commentary.

Sincerely,

Goddess Celestaria

High Custodian of Progression Paths, Upper Celestial Office

Lux scrolled down and blinked at the attached list.

Angel Name: Sariven, Seraph of Fiscal Retribution

Grievance: Said "your sword is compensating" during a finance tribunal.

Angel Name: Thirel, Archwing of Unseen Judgments

Grievance: Called her "a sexy shadow accountant" mid-battle.

Angel Name: Grareel, Starblade Herald

Grievance: Debated him into a metaphysical breakdown about inflation.

Lux let out a long, steady breath. "Seriously?"

He leaned back again and muttered, "So I’m not just being paranoid. Great. There really are glowsticks with a vengeance looking to obliterate me before brunch."

[Would you like to send a reply, sir?]

Lux narrowed his eyes. "Just a simple thank you, and also tell them I will use the coupon today."

[Understood.]

"Perfect."

Behind him, the bedsheets rustled.

A drowsy tentacle lifted, flopped, then curled back with a sleepy little plip. Lux smiled at the sound before turning. Rava blinked her eyes open—slow, ocean-deep irises focusing, unfocusing, focusing again—then pushed wild dark-blue hair from her cheek. She looked rumpled, radiant, and mildly confused about still existing.

"Good morning, siren of my nightmares," Lux said, voice pitched soft and warm.

She squinted at him, lips curving. "Nightmares? Please. You groaned louder than the hotel plumbing."

"Valid," he conceded, strolling over and flicking off the TV so the cartoon giraffe’s encore death scene wouldn’t ruin the mood.

Lux leaned in, planted an unhurried kiss on Rava’s forehead, then one at the corner of her mouth—tasting salt, lavender, and faint traces of the champagne they’d never quite finished. She sighed against him, tentacle tips brushing his waist like lazy cat tails.

"You smell like coffee and sin," she murmured.

"Complimentary house blend," he quipped, then slipped away long enough to wheel the silver-domed breakfast trolley right to the edge of the mattress. Steam curled up from the coffeepot. The buttery perfume of pastries drifted out as soon as he lifted a lid. "Room-service buffet à la Lux," he announced. "Zero regrets."

Rava propped herself on an elbow, the sheet sliding just enough to make his pulse hop. Her tentacles arranged themselves like she was an avant-garde quilt. "I still feel tired," she admitted, voice husky. "So this is perfect."

"Tired?" Lux flashed a grin and plucked a flaky pain au chocolat, tearing a corner, offering it to her lips. "You mean the demonic cardio left an impression?"

Her eyes half-lidded, she took the bite—slow, deliberate. "You... we did it like ten times last night," she said around chocolate and pastry. "I even skipped dinner."

Lux slipped a croissant between his own teeth, chewed, swallowed. "Me too," he said, handing her a tall glass of fresh orange juice, cold beads racing down the crystal. "So we’re even. Besides, who needs dinner when you have—" he tapped the column of her throat with one finger "—all-you-can-scream buffet?"

Rava’s cheeks darkened a soft coral. "You’re incorrigible."

"Incorrect. I am perfectly corrigible—as long as the correction involves kisses." He bent, kissed her again, deeper this time, tasting pastry crumbs on her tongue, feeling her sigh melt against his mouth. One tentacle looped his wrist, playful cuffs of suction. She tugged until he lost balance and half-collapsed beside her.

The mattress dipped. Coffee sloshed in its pot. Lux smirked, bracing himself on a forearm, stray strands of hair falling over his eyes. "Careful, Kraken-queen. I promised my System I’d try joy today, not send the hotel maintenance crew another trauma report."

She mocked a gasp. "Joy? From the Bean-Counting Prince of Greed?"

"Miracles happen," he said solemnly.

"Incredible." She nipped his lower lip, then released him, sinking back onto the pillows with a satisfied little groan. "Feed me more joy, then."

"Yes, ma’am." He broke open a raspberry Danish, let the scarlet filling glisten in morning light, then held it just above her mouth. Rava’s tentacle caught his wrist again, guiding the sweet gooey bite to her lips. Her eyes fluttered shut as she chewed. Crumbs dotted the sheet.

Lux’s heart gave an unfamiliar, gentle stutter.