Harem Startup : The Demon Billionaire is on Vacation-Chapter 590: Unhand My Face

Chapter 590 – Unhand My Face

"I was focused."

"You were about to explode a server node in that condition."

He tried to stand.

The chair didn’t budge.

Because Sira had tied the damn legs to the floor.

"Why are you so strong?" he hissed.

"I’m Pride. We do everything well."

Another ribbon whipped around his torso, locking his back to the chair.

Lux inhaled like he was about to curse every sin family by rank, but his mouth opened, only to find a piece of enchanted rope slipping into his mouth like a fake pacifier.

"MMMPH—"

Sira tugged it back out, laughing. "Kidding. But behave, or the next one’s enchanted to taste like spicy soap."

He glared at her. "I have met actual archdemons with less control issues than you."

"And yet here you are. Sitting. Behaving."

"I am tied down!"

"And?" Sira smiled sweetly, brushing her fingers across his collarbone like she was straightening a tie on a hostage. "You’ve been running on pure incubus fumes for a half day. Time to reboot."

"I swear," Lux said through clenched teeth, "I will audit your soul bond log for this."

"I already altered the budget," she replied.

That’s when Lullaby padded into the room barefoot, humming softly.

And Lux, paralyzed mid-glare, realized he was doomed.

A soft, lazy sloth-demon melody that slid down his spine like warm syrup and immediately triggered his nervous system.

Lux froze.

His fingers twitched. His legs refused to move.

[You have been paralyzed!]

"Did... did she just paralyze me with a lullaby spell?" he croaked.

"Yes," Sira said proudly, tugging the final knot tight across his chest like a ribbon on a demonic birthday present. "She’s Slothborn. It’s in the blood."

Lux was still twitching in his chair.

Still tied.

Still unamused.

He tried again to flex out of it.

Nope.

The pride-enchanted bindings just tightened a little more, like they were smug about it.

Across the dining room, Lyra appeared with flawless posture and a clipboard in hand, flanked by three puppet servants carrying platters that shimmered with steam and spice. Every plate was arranged like a luxury banquet photo shoot, roast lamb glazed with infernal honey, wine-braised lotus roots, hand-seared abyssal scallops, and a side of truffle soup in bowls.

"Dinner is ready," Lyra said with her usual neutral tone. "Please enjoy."

Lux tilted his head as far as the bindings allowed.

"What exactly am I supposed to enjoy?" he muttered. "I can’t move."

One of the puppet servants gently bowed and placed a spoon on the edge of the table.

He glared at it like it had personally betrayed him.

And that’s when Naomi arrived.

Silent. Graceful. Deadly.

She wore a silk-black house robe and a smile so calm it almost felt angelic... if you didn’t know her.

Carrying a tray like it was a ceremonial dagger, she walked straight up to him and set it down beside the soup.

"I can help you, darling~" she said, lifting a spoon.

"No."

"Say ah."

"Absolutely not."

She brought the spoon to his lips.

"I will bite you," Lux warned.

"You won’t."

"I might."

Naomi leaned forward and whispered, "Be a good boy."

Lux blinked.

Something in his soul flinched.

He tried to turn his head away, just a little, enough to retain some dignity.

Bad move.

Sira, from behind, casually pinched both his cheeks like a doting aunt catching a sassy nephew.

"Ah, ah. No resisting."

"Unhand my face—"

"You look adorable."

Lux groaned as the spoon touched his lips. Naomi tilted it gently. The creamy, ridiculously rich truffle soup slid into his mouth like insult-flavored silk.

He chewed.

He hated that it tasted divine.

"Don’t make that face," Naomi said, bringing another spoonful. "You’re getting nutrients. Your aura was literally flickering."

Lux dead-eyed the ceiling. "I am a dignified infernal CFO. This is torture."

"Therapeutic," Naomi corrected.

She wiped his chin with a cloth napkin like he was a fussy prince and smiled.

Enter Mira.

She walked into the room, perfectly styled as usual and immediately froze when she saw the scene.

Lux. Tied up.

Sira behind him holding ribbons like reins.

Naomi spoon-feeding him.

Lullaby pressed to his side like a sleepy kitten with a death wish.

"Oh gods," Mira choked, clutching the doorway for support. "His face... he looks like a royal hostage at a spa hostage situation."

"I am a hostage," Lux muttered.

Sira wiped his mouth again. "You’re a tired demon who needs a cooldown before he crashes a demonic server trying to punch a celestial fake profile."

"That’s oddly specific."

Lux twitched. "I’m going to dissolve every search history in this building."

Then the door creaked again.

And in walked Rava.

Her heels clicked on the polished floor like lazy war drums. She didn’t even blink at the chaos laid out before her.

Rava just tilted her head.

"Well, well, well," she said, voice cool as midnight tides. "Seems like fun. Can I join you guys?"

Lullaby, still snuggled into Lux’s shoulder, lifted her head slightly. "Yes, please. We are in the middle of feeding him."

Lux deadpanned, "They’re torturing me."

"Feeding," Naomi corrected, sweetly dabbing at his chin with a napkin that smelled faintly of lavender. "There’s a difference."

Rava smirked. "Depends on the kink."

Lux groaned. "Do not analyze me like a wine profile."

Too late. Rava had already turned to the sideboard, grabbed a decanter of dark, unsettlingly carbonated liquid... something that fizzed with slow, suspicious glee and poured a tall glass.

She brought it over slowly, hips swaying like she was in a perfume ad made for demons. The drink sloshed gently in her hand, glowing with soft eldritch sparkles like it had questionable legal standing in most infernal markets.

She held it up just slightly.

Like an offering. Or a threat.

Or both.

"You look parched," she purred, offering the glass as if they were at a negotiation table. "Trade you one sip for one obedient moment."

"I’ve already been fed soup against my will."

"C’mon. Open your mouth," she said flatly.

Lux narrowed his eyes. "Why."

"Hydration. Obey."

"I don’t want to."

Sira leaned closer and whispered in his ear, "I still have the ropes."

He opened his mouth.

Rava poured.

The drink hit his tongue with a jolt.