Chapter 470 – Financial Dom Top
The morning went about as normal as it could in a house full of demon royalty, underwater economists, prideborn heiresses, and one perpetually half-awake girl in oversized pajamas.
Lux sat at the head of the long breakfast table, shirt unbuttoned to mid-chest, hair still a little damp from his ergency morning bath. He had a mug in his hand. The mug said "Financial Dom Top."
Steam curled off the surface. The coffee was dark. Dangerous. Demon-roasted. Laced with mana stimulants. His first sip was reverent. Sacred. Like a contract renewal for his soul.
It tasted like salvation.
The scent of roasted nuts, citrus peel, and burnt ambition filled the room. Eggs sizzled sowhere behind him. Mana-toasted sourdough floated itself to plates. Enchanted jam jars politely offered their contents with tiny runic hand gestures. Soone had requested a lon.
Rava was already eating. Still in one of Lux’s shirts—buttoned halfway, long enough to count as a dress, smug enough to be a flex. Her legs were crossed, her fork poised with all the control of a seasoned killer. Her gaze slid toward Lux like soone who knew how good she looked and didn’t need confirmation, only leverage.
"You didn’t even try to stay quiet," she said casually, sipping from an infused smoothie.
Lux sipped his coffee. "Your tentacles betrayed you first."
Mira snorted from across the table, dressed in a blood-red silk robe embroidered with gold dragons and carrying her teacup like it was the head of a mortal rival.
Sira, seated next to Mira, didn’t react. Not even a flicker of her usual snark. Her posture was straight. Too straight. She poked at her breakfast like the eggs had insulted her lineage. She hadn’t said a word since Lux walked in and kissed the top of her head.
Lullaby sat next to her, half-lted into a plush chair like a sleepy bun demon. Her hair was unbrushed, her arms were loosely tangled in a cashre blanket that seed to move on its own, and she was sipping milk through a straw with the dead-eyed focus of soone whose soul had not fully downloaded yet.
"You okay, Lulla?" Lux asked, mid-chew.
She nodded. Blinked once. Then muttered, "Don’t talk before noon."
Rava leaned back with a satisfied sigh, watching the girls like a content cri boss overseeing her cartel of drama and breakfast.
Naomi hadn’t co down yet. Probably in a call. Or planning to appear fashionably late with docunts in hand.
Lux set down his mug and cleared his throat. "Right, so. Everyone. Reminder."
He reached out and casually flicked his fingers toward the clock on the wall.
07:56 AM
"Twelve hours from now," he said calmly. "Housewarming. Goddess edition."
Sira’s fork paused mid-cut.
"They replied," he added. "Celestaria confird. They’re coming."
Sira didn’t flinch. Not exactly. But Lux had known her long enough to catch the way her shoulders tensed. The tiniest twitch. Her expression stayed composed. Eyes down. Jaw still. Knife and fork clean.
But it was there.
That ripple under the mask.
Rava noticed too. Her gaze flicked to Sira’s face and back to Lux.
Mira raised an eyebrow but stayed quiet. Lullaby... blinked once, very slowly, and then swirled her straw.
Lux didn’t say anything at first. Just nodded, took another sip of his coffee, and let the conversation trail off.
Breakfast resud.
But ten minutes later, when Mira left and Rava followed, Lux casually stood and walked around the table.
Sira was still there.
Still poking at her food. Still too quiet. Still too... prideful.
He didn’t say anything until he was beside her, until he sat down at her right, close enough that their knees brushed. She didn’t look at him, but her body tensed slightly, like she expected him to say sothing stupid. Or worse—sothing kind.
He leaned in, voice low.
"You okay?"
"I’m fine."
"I don’t believe you."
"I don’t care."
Lux tilted his head. Studied her profile. The smooth skin. The perfect, barely-there crease between her brows. The calm, calculated pride that clung to her like perfu.
"You don’t have to pretend, Sira."
She finally looked at him. Eyes sharp. Voice calm.
"I’m not pretending. I just don’t want to talk about it."
"Because of Celestaria?"
A pause.
Then, softly, "Yes."
The word barely left Sira’s mouth, but Lux heard it like a crack in porcelain. Not loud. But real.
They sat side by side at the long marble table, plates mostly ignored, the air scented with roasted coffee, salted butter, and distant breeze from the open veranda. Mana runes floated lazily in the corners of the ceiling—ventilating, adjusting light, trying to make the morning feel less like it was rolling toward celestial judgnt.
Lux didn’t push. He just sat there. Elbow on the table. Chin on his knuckles. Watching her.
Sira didn’t et his eyes.
She looked forward. At the clock. At her fork. At anything that wasn’t him. Her expression was as composed as ever—flawless skin, sharp cheekbones, gold-inked eyeliner that never smudged no matter how hard she trained. Pride made flesh. But her fingers were curled a little too tight against the edge of her plate.
"I said it yesterday," Lux murmured.
She didn’t answer.
"I won’t switch to the light."
Still no response.
He tried again. Softer this ti. "Don’t worry."
"I know," she said quickly. Too quickly.
Then her voice dropped. "I know, Lux. But I still can’t calm."
He stayed quiet.
Sira’s jaw tightened. Her lashes fluttered once. Then she exhaled—short, sharp, like a dam trying not to burst.
"I can’t calm down, Lux. I an..." Her voice broke off. She shoved her fork into a piece of fruit that hadn’t done anything wrong. "I don’t hate goddesses. I don’t. I grew up being told to respect them. Fear them. Aspire to them. But—ugh, you know . I can’t explain it."
Her pride was unraveling in threads. Not breaking. Just... fraying. Quietly. Desperately. And only where she thought no one could see.
That made it worse.
Because he saw.
He always saw.
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