Harem Startup : The Demon Billionaire is on Vacation-Chapter 476: Guilt

Chapter 476 – Guilt

Dark emerald. Almost black in low light, but shimmered green-gold when the light hit just right. The jacket was high-collared, slightly asymmetrical, with gold thread in the seams and subtle obsidian trim. Tailored to glide over his shoulders like it had been stitched by sin itself. The inner lining was red. Not bright. Blood-wine.

And the accessories?

A golden pin shaped like the sigil of Greed’s house—Vaelthorn’s spiral horn, subtle but unmistakable. A pocket square that looked like folded currency. And the cufflinks? Diamonds shaped like coins.

It was perfect.

He set it aside carefully on the valet stand. His eyes caught the shine of the lapel and he smiled.

That’s what he’d wear later.

To seduce the room in one glance.

To make Jeremy Delmar’s soul whimper under his boots.

But for now... he had time. And Lux? Lux always circled back to one thing when there was free time.

Work.

He sighed and rolled his eyes at himself. "Vacation," he muttered.

[Reminder — You Are On Vacation. Please refrain from accessing Hell’s Financial Server.]

He dismissed the pop-up with a flick of his fingers like a parent ignoring a child’s whine. "I know. I know."

But his body had already walked over to the desk. His fingers moved to summon his system. The infernal hologram screens buzzed softly as the connection stabilized and the digital interface synced with the Realm’s backend system.

He stared at it.

Red and green charts. Soul-asset pipelines. Overdue contract reports. Tax returns. War-loan interest balances. Someone filed a breach report in Lust territory. Another demon bank tried to undercut his rates on an open dominion auction.

Lux pinched the bridge of his nose.

Yeah.

He was in vacation mode.

Definitely.

Even the system groaned at him in passive-aggressive updates.

[Warning: High Workload Detected. CFO-Class Tasks Not Recommended In Vacation Mode.]

He stared at it for two seconds.

Then tapped on the report anyway.

The familiar comfort of numbers welcomed him like a guilty pleasure. Soul-credit flows. Reaper-backed portfolios. An entire infernal economy tethered to his name and pulse. He could feel it breathing through the screen—Hell’s heartbeat. And he was its financial pacemaker.

Lux tapped through a few more reports, letting the data slide across his vision like wine down a goblet. Ah, there it was—delayed contracts in the Lust district. Easy fix. He flagged it. The usual tax evasion attempt from the Obsidian Silk Club? Already handled.

And then... something odd.

The task log shimmered—subtle, blinking in a new update. Not his usual assistant’s stamp. Not his.

It had a higher-tier sigil.

Lux’s eyes narrowed.

He tapped it open.

[TASK COMPLETED - MANUAL SIGNATURE VERIFIED: LORD ZAVROS VAELTHORN]

Lux’s brows shot up. He stared.

No. No, that had to be a glitch.

He scrolled down. Another one.

[TASK COMPLETED - Manual Override Executed By: Zavros Vaelthorn, Authority Level: Origin Greed Class]

"Wait, what?" he muttered out loud.

He leaned in, tapping the screen twice to pull up the verification thread. It wasn’t spoofed. No illusion. Real-time signature. The mana trace was fresh.

Another ping.

A third task.

Then a fourth.

Fifth.

All of them marked as complete today—not auto-signed, not handed to some secretary and rubber-stamped. These were manually reviewed and processed by one of the most feared beings in Hell.

Zavros Vaelthorn. His father.

The system shimmered as if it sensed his disbelief.

[Lord of Greed has manually completed five CFO-tier economic review tasks today. Estimated accuracy: 99.8%. Mana fatigue level: Moderate. Work location: Confirmed.]

Lux blinked. "You’re joking."

[Negative. Lord Zavros is currently stationed in Nexus Prime—Greed Tower, upper sanctum. Your father has been in his executive office since 04:21 Infernal Time. He arrived early.]

He frowned deeper, fingers frozen over the screen. "Wait... you mean his office? The real one? Like... the actual Greed office?"

[Confirmed. Not the proxy suite. Not the illusion clone. Not the delegate sector. Primary Nexus. Central dominion. Access locked to Vaelthorn bloodline and executive contract holders.]

Lux leaned back in his chair, stunned silent.

The screen glowed against his expression like a ghost.

Zavros... was working?

Like... really working?

Not whispering threats through cursed contracts or playing fiscal chess with the Lust Lords like a bored tycoon. Not sending avatars. Not looming like a specter of authority.

He was in the office. Doing paperwork.

"What the actual—"

He turned quickly, instinctively glancing toward the bed.

Lullaby hadn’t stirred. Still in her sloth-mode coma, face buried in his pillow like she owned it. A line of drool threatened to soak into the fabric. Adorable. But yeah, definitely not awake for this revelation.

Lux looked back at the screen.

"What is this, a mid-life crisis?" he whispered. "Or is he trying to prove something?"

[Unknown. However, trends suggest a behavioral shift in Lord Zavros’s recent activity logs. Productivity up by 600%. Delegate command orders down 83%. Personal task engagement significantly increased.]

"So... what, he’s trying to make up for something?"

[Unknown. Suggestion: Perhaps you should communicate with your father rather than theorize like a teenaged devil heir with abandonment trauma.]

Lux glared. "Rude."

[Accurate.]

He rubbed his forehead. This... this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Zavros didn’t do consistency. He didn’t handle things. He delegated. He intimidated. He was the storm behind the stock crash, not the guy updating spreadsheets like some cursed mortal CFO.

He exhaled slowly, slumping a little in his chair.

Was it guilt?

A real one?

Was it... him?

He could believe it.

Lux swallowed, staring at the reports again.

"Maybe he really is trying to change."

[Probability: 32%. Alternative Theory: He is attempting to reclaim control before potential infernal audits. Or, perhaps he is dying.]

Lux looked up sharply. "Excuse me?"

[Joke. 2.4% probability of terminal condition. No current symptoms in biometric log.]

"...don’t do that."

[Noted.]

He didn’t know how to feel about that.

Proud?

Angry?

Hopeful?

All of it, maybe.

He stood up and walked to the window. The sun was rising higher over the mortal city skyline, gilding the clouds in gold.

He murmured under his breath, "I’m just starting to believe you can be decent." Well, but he didn’t put much for it. He needed to see how long his old man did his duty.

And across the realms, in a golden tower of glass and sin, Zavros Vaelthorn signed another form—hands steady, eyes dark, jaw clenched.

Maybe... he was trying to fix his wrong.