Chapter 1019: You Insult People for Sport
Chapter 1019 – You Insult People for Sport
Zehar disappeared.
He simply unraveled into mist.
Dark violet smoke peeled from his shoulders, his sleeves, his gray hair, his ridiculous noble coat, until the whole shape of him became a whisper stretched thin across the dining room. For a second, his silhouette lingered near the chandelier like a smug ghost refusing to leave without being admired.
Corvus stared at the spot where Zehar had disappeared. "I guess I will help him."
Lux looked at him. "Try not to start an ego war in the Shadow Corridors."
Corvus puffed up. "I am a professional."
"You insult people for sport."
"Exactly. Professional."
Before Lux could answer, Corvus spread his wings. Black feathers broke apart into shadow fragments, scattering like burnt paper in reverse. His shape dissolved mid-flight, a raven turning into a line of darkness that slipped through the corner of the room and vanished into the mansion’s deeper ward channels.
For a moment, there was only the hum of the chandelier, the low crackle of candlelight, and the distant living pulse of the mansion wards.
Cyrinne watched the place where both ancient lord and raven had disappeared. Then she slowly turned back to Lux.
"Your household is really interesting, Prince Lux."
Lux picked up his coffee. His sacred, untouched, rescued from jelly coffee. "Thanks."
He took a sip.
"Most of nowadays are chaos."
Sira snorted softly. "Nowadays?"
Lux ignored her. "But yeah," he said, looking around the dining room, "I like this place."
Cyrinne tilted her head. The question came softly, but it had teeth. "Better than the Greed Tower?"
Lux stilled.
His fingers paused around the cup.
His shoulders remained relaxed, but something behind his eyes went far away.
Nexus Prime.
He remembered glass walls reaching into black skies. Endless golden lights beneath him like a city that never slept because he never let it. He remembered screens stacked across his office, contracts layered over contracts, emergency financial reports, territorial projections, debt failures, demon market collapse warnings, requests from sin houses, royal pressure, investor panic, assassination budget irregularities, employee strikes, shadow tax loopholes, corruption patches, Hell currency stabilization, investments, abyss risk, tower restructuring.
Work.
Work.
More work.
Coffee gone cold beside his hand.
Meals skipped until the servant left nutrition bars on his desk like offerings to a dead god.
Sleep measured in accidental minutes.
Burnout disguised as discipline.
Frustration disguised as competence.
Loneliness disguised as privacy.
Everyone had needed him sharp.
Useful.
Perfect.
A CFO.
A Greed heir who could carry a collapsing economy on his back while demons argued about who deserved bigger chairs.
And the worst part had not been the work.
Lux could handle work.
He was built for it. Greed loved accumulation, and responsibility was just another hoard if one was mentally unwell enough.
The worst part had been the feeling after.
When the reports were done.
When the meetings ended.
When the servants left.
When the city lights kept glowing under his window, and nobody asked if he was tired in a way that expected a real answer.
No one had neglected him cruelly.
That would have been easier.
They had neglected him efficiently.
Because he was Lux Vaelthorn.
He handled everything.
He always stood again.
Because if something hurt him, he made it profitable and moved on.
He had been surrounded by demons and still abandoned inside the tower.
Lux blinked.
The dining room returned.
Warm light.
Too many plates.
Lux looked around him and smiled.
A real one. Small and soft. Genuine enough that it changed his face.
"Yeah," he said. His voice was quieter now. "Better."
The word sat there.
"Much better."
He looked around again, one face at a time. "I like it here."
No one teased him.
That was how he knew they understood.
Because normally, someone would have said something. But no one spoke.
They let him have it.
Lux lowered his cup.
Somehow, his vacation had turned into collecting heiresses, ancient creatures, debtors, political refugees, deadly women, and a jelly elder with fashion problems.
He should have regretted it.
He did not.
Not even a little.
Because here, he felt care.
It was messy care, of course. Extremely inconvenient care. The kind that tackled him when he tried to overwork, watched his core injury like he was a fragile relic and occasionally restricted his movement for his own good.
They cared too hard.
Sometimes it felt like being imprisoned by affection with excellent bedding.
But Lux knew the ugly truth.
He needed it.
His overworked mentality was not noble.
It was damage wearing a tailored coat.
And these women were slowly noticing every crack he had spent years polishing into gold.
Cyrinne watched him through all of it.
At first, she only meant to observe.
Envy observed. Envy compared. Envy measured what others possessed, what they lacked, where to cut, where to mimic, where to steal.
She had seen Lux before.
The CFO of Hell.
That version of him had been terrifying in a clean way. Sharp gaze. Perfect suit. Calm voice. The kind of demon who could ruin a noble house without raising his tone. He had looked like someone who did not bleed unless the wound had already been monetized.
Even at the gate tonight, half-dressed in a robe and looking like a scandal trying to pass as a prince, he had still seemed flawless.
Controlled.
A man receiving an intruder with a smirk, a brand, and a threat hidden inside courtesy.
But this?
This Lux was different.
Not weaker.
That was the strange part.
He did not look diminished by softness.
He looked more real.
The cold Greed prince had a soft spot.
No.
Not one.
Many.
They were sitting around his table.
They had names.
Voices.
Weapons.
Opinions.
And he looked at them like they were not accessories to his power, not trophies, not useful alliances, not assets in a ledger.
He looked at them like they were home.
Cyrinne felt something shift in her chest.
-Ba-thump!
Her heart betrayed her with an absurd little soundless impact.
She nearly frowned.
How irritating.
No, worse.
How interesting.