Harem Startup : The Demon Billionaire is on Vacation -
Chapter 137: Worth Souls
Chapter 137: Worth Souls
Chapter 137 – Worth Souls
A low ripple of laughter passed through the crowd. Expensive laughter. Coated in pearls and champagne.
It brought Lux’s attention back to reality.
Lux exhaled through his nose. His eyes went to that ’Eye-whatever-thing’.
[Estimated street value of item: $12 million.]
The host continued. "We’ll start the bid at a modest $3 million."
No hesitation.
"Four," barked a woman from the left side—tan skin, solar empire earrings, old money aura.
"Five point two," someone behind Lux drawled lazily.
"Six!" called a dragonkin in gold-rimmed glasses, fanning himself like he owned air.
"Eight," Mira said coolly, without even glancing at the stage. She was nursing a cocktail, fingers tapping the stem absently, lips parted just enough to say ’I’m not trying too hard’ while very obviously trying hard.
Fiera sighed beside her, murmuring, "Ten."
Lux huffed.
He didn’t even look at the stage.
Instead, he leaned toward Rava, voice low, sharp with disinterest. "Do you have a list of tonight’s items?"
Rava didn’t hesitate. Wordlessly, she reached into the clutch nestled in her lap, pulled out a slim digital slate, and handed it to him without even looking his way. Her free hand continued tracing a light circle around the rim of her half-finished wine glass. Her tentacles? Stilled. Watching.
He scanned the list—casually, bored.
A cursed music box from the Cradle Isles.
An exorcised puppet once possessed by a minor chaos god.
An elven blade that swore vengeance on its original wielder and anyone named Gerald.
’Wait, huh?’ Lux winced. ’Who the hell is Gerald? Some kind of mortal enemy?’
A phoenix egg with a 12% chance of still hatching.
A preserved banshee’s wail locked inside a crystal phial.
A cursed mirror rumored to show your last regret before death.
Some stuff with decent novelty, sure. Creepy. Quirky. Probably collectible.
But none of it held weight. Not to him.
Because Lux had been to Hell’s auctions. A lot.
And this? This was like comparing a city pawn shop to a vault in the infernal treasury.
Here, the items had flavor but barely any power. Trinkets with stories. Relics with flash. They were dressed up in glamour spells and poetic curses to inflate the price tags for an audience obsessed with aesthetics and drama. Wealthy dilettantes buying props for their personal collections.
But the real stuff? The good stuff?
Didn’t sing.
It screamed.
Hell’s auction houses sold things that pulsed with raw magic.
Artifacts made from the bones of extinct deities.
Contracts written in forgotten languages that bled ink when read.
Swords that whispered in your sleep, begging to be unsheathed, demanding blood.
Rings carved from the eyes of celestial beasts.
Things that wanted to be owned—but only by the bold. The damned. The real players.
Here? He saw nothing worth summoning a lawyer over.
He handed the list back to Rava with a soft, "Thank you."
His tone was polite. Even warm.
But his face?
Thoroughly unimpressed.
Eyes half-lidded. Mouth a flat line. That faint tick of his jaw—like he’d just read the menu of a five-star restaurant only to realize everything was cooked in unsalted broth.
Because for Lux?
Power wasn’t about rarity.
It was about weight. Influence. Energy. Cost.
And these artifacts, as pretty and pricey as they were, had all the depth of magical party favors.
Rava raised an eyebrow slightly, but didn’t press. When he looked like that—flat, unreadable, vaguely annoyed—it wasn’t because he was bored. It was because he’d already measured the room and found it wanting.
Fiera’s tail brushed against Mira’s heel as she leaned forward, catching his mood shift. "Did you not find anything interesting?" she asked, light and teasing. "Not even the Eye?"
Elyndra, for once, perked up. "You look completely checked out," she said bluntly, flicking her hair over her shoulder. "Don’t tell me after that performance on stage, you’ve never been to a forbidden auction like this before."
Her tone was biting.
She was fishing.
Lux adjusted his posture, straightening just enough to tilt his head toward her with that lazy confidence that made high-ranking women lose their speech and lower their standards.
"Yes," he said simply.
Mira tilted her head. "Yes to what?"
"Yes, I’ve been to auctions like this. Dozens of times." He let the corner of his mouth twitch. "I’ve seen better items."
"Oh?" Fiera’s brows lifted slightly.
He took a slow sip of his drink, eyes still scanning the stage like it owed him a refund. "Ones that were worth more. Worth trading more than just money for."
Elyndra smirked. "What, like one-of-a-kind jewelry?"
Mira rolled her eyes. "Please. Jewels are boring."
He flicked his gaze to Mira then.
Dead-on.
Pinning her like a serpent on satin.
"Some items," he said, voice just low enough to sink under skin, "are worth souls."
The way he said it—plural—wasn’t a joke.
Rava’s glass paused mid-lift. Her fingers curled tighter around the stem, eyes flicking sideways toward him. She didn’t react on the outside—but deep down?
Yeah. She felt it.
Because she knew.
Lux wasn’t bluffing.
He wasn’t imagining.
Mira shivered.
Her pride tried to smother it. She rolled her neck slowly, lips curving. "Nice fairytale," she said. But it wasn’t her usual razor-sharp sarcasm. It was quieter. Slower. Like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to call his bluff or ask for a bedtime story.
"You can say what you want," Lux said.
He didn’t smile this time.
Didn’t need to.
And suddenly, the auction felt... smaller.
Rava didn’t say a word. She just leaned back slightly in her seat, shoulders tense, heart thudding in a rhythm she didn’t like admitting.
This version of him? Calm. Distant. Whispering about soul-traded artifacts like it was a nostalgic dinner recipe?
The one that could unmake someone with a smile.
She found it hot.
Elyndra sat straighter, her usual arrogance faltering slightly as she studied him now with a sharper lens. "Where did you see something like that?" she asked.
Lux tilted his head. "Someplace hotter than this."
Fiera let out a soft exhale, her fingers tightening around her fan. "You sound like you’ve walked through all the underworld’s markets."
He shrugged one shoulder. "Maybe I did."
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