Chapter 261 – For to Wear and Soone Else to Take Off
And then...
Kratzik.
The fixer.
Lux’s eye twitched.
He respected the demon’s skill, sure. Kratzik was efficient, powerful, creative. He’d upgraded half of Lux’s properties, installed demonic plumbing in six hell-thed casinos, and even helped reinforce Lust’s hot spring resort after a Succubus Convention broke the walls.
But the guy was annoying.
Because unlike the others, he didn’t co from tragedy. He ca from ambition.
Kratzik saw Lux. Saw his brand. Saw the money.
And approached him with a blueprint and a smile.
"I fix. You pay. We’re good?"
Lux respected that hustle. But he still didn’t like him.
Because Kratzik always negotiated. Always demanded full payout. Always turned in a bill with five zeroes and a footnote.
Still...
He delivered.
And Lux knew better than anyone that when you’re building an empire, sotis you have to work with people who are loyal to the coin, not the crown.
So he kept paying. Because good work? Always worth the price.
Lux took another sip of his espresso, which had gone cold now.
Didn’t matter.
He stood, staring out over his domain.
All of them. Working. Bound. Moving with purpose.
And all of it—from soil to chandelier—was his. Bought. Managed. Balanced.
’That’s the power of Greed,’ he thought. ’Not hoarding. But owning.’
He smiled faintly to himself and went to the sofa.
Lux was horizontal now.
Sprawled across the sofa like he owned the place—which he did—sleeves pushed up, tie loosened, shirt half-open, legs stretched out and crossed. One hand lazily traced the rim of his now-cold espresso glass.
This would take a while to finish. But it was going to be good.
A soft breeze drifted in through the tall glass doors. Lux closed his eyes, letting it brush over his skin. A nap? Maybe. He hadn’t had a good nap since the Lust Tower’s spa week, and even that got interrupted by an assassination attempt. Which was rude.
Then—
A low growl thrumd through the mansion’s speaker rune, vibrating slightly through the floor.
"Master."
Lux cracked one eye open. "Fenrir?"
"Yes."
"You sound... tense."
"There is a mortal outside. A courier. He arrived in a vehicle approximately the size of a minor deity."
Lux blinked. "A... mortal?"
"He claims he is delivering your clothes."
Pause.
"Oh! Yes!" Lux sat up, blinking, then laughed. "Right! My order. That’s the... yeah, I bought that online."
[You requested a selection of high-fashion casualwear, tailored blazers, performance-grade wear, loungewear, and pieces labeled ’in case of hot date or spontaneous political seduction.’]
Lux rubbed his temples. "System... you didn’t put sequins on anything, did you?"
[Of course not. I know your aesthetic. Clean lines, bold cuts, and occasional fuck-you tailoring. I believe you will be satisfied.]
He grinned, genuinely impressed. "Damn. You do know ."
Outside, the roar of an engine cut, and a faint thud echoed across the drive. Lux moved to the front hallway, stepping into a shaft of gold sunlight filtering through the arched ceiling. The scent of sulfur was faint now—Kratzik’s residual aura, probably, still echoing off the banisters.
The front door opened with a soft click, and Fenrir stood there, looking impossibly large and serious next to the lean courier dressed in a red-and-black jumpsuit, clipboard in hand. The courier trembled, but he pretended to be calm. Behind him, a massive matte black truck sat idling, clearly enchanted to so degree. It humd.
The courier looked up, blinked, and then very clearly stared.
"Whoa," he whispered.
Lux, bare feet, shirt unbuttoned halfway, hair tousled from lounging, smiled. "Hi."
The man blinked twice. "You’re... uh... Mr. Vaelthorn?"
"Depends who’s asking. But yes."
"I have your... delivery." He gestured to the truck. "All of it."
Lux squinted. "How big was my order?"
The courier laughed nervously. "Sir, no offense, but I’ve delivered to supermodels with less clothing."
Fenrir snorted.
Lux gave him a look.
"Well, what can I say? I like options."
The back of the truck opened and a small army of delivery drones erged, each carrying reinforced black boxes. They hovered in formation like obedient bats.
[Inventory Scan Confird – 67 packages received.]
"Sixty-seven?! What the hell—"
[You specified outfits for formal, informal, infernal, ergency, poolside, mountain retreats, negotiations, and three backup vacation sets. I also included backup underwear.]
Lux groaned softly. "Right. I guess I will need that."
The boxes floated in through the hallway like stylish ghosts. A few of Lyra’s puppets stopped to stare, one of them whistling low.
Lyra appeared, hands folded neatly in front of her, expression calm but curious. "I presu this delivery is intentional and not the result of another... bulk shopping incident?"
Lux waved her off with a lazy grin. "Nope. Just wardrobe."
Her eyes scanned the floating boxes, pausing on one labeled ’Doomsday Sexy’. She tilted her head slightly. "Define ’just’."
Lux smirked. "That’s for to wear... and soone else to take off."
A very small pause. Lyra’s expression didn’t change—too well-trained for that—but her voice was clipped with practiced grace. "Understood. I shall make arrangents to have the mirrors in your bedroom... sanitized accordingly."
"I like you best when you’re threatening in a housekeeping way."
Lyra bowed her head slightly. "Efficiency is my love language."
Lux opened the nearest crate, fingers brushing the inside. The fabric shimred under his touch, silk blend. A jacket caught the light and subtly changed color depending on his angle. Another box held deep crimson shirts so finely tailored they felt like sin dipped in luxury.
He sighed happily. "Okay... yeah. Good job, System."
[Thank you, sir. You are now fully equipped to seduce, impress, and economically devastate.]
"I do all that naked, but sure, I like a challenge."
He looked around. The hallway was filled with floating boxes, puppets now unpacking and hanging them in front of him.
From sowhere upstairs, Kratzik shouted, "IF ANYONE TOUCHES THE LOCKED CLOSET, I’M REVOKING YOUR CEILING PRIVILEGES."
Lux muttered, "Ceiling privileges?" and shrugged.
He turned back to Fenrir. "Escort the courier out, thank him, and give him a tip."
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