Chapter 489 – Where That Greed Ca From?
Corvus wasn’t just his shadow scout.
A high-functioning sociopath born from Greed’s blackmarket incubation labs—half raven, half sothing else. He didn’t ask for help. Didn’t admit fear. And if he said abort?
That ant sothing old just looked him in the eye.
Sira finally pulled her legs up on the seat, sitting cross-legged in that graceful, deadly way only Pride daughters could. She studied the pearls again, their faint shimr reflected in her eyes.
The way she held them—like they could explode or start whispering—made Lux’s chest tighten. Not from affection. From recognition. The kind that made his blood pulse a little faster because sowhere under it, sothing was wrong.
"Do you think Lylith knew about the bounty?" she asked quietly.
"No."
"You sound sure."
"She’s a mortal."
Sira blinked, tilting her head just enough that a strand of platinum hair slid across her lips. "Yeah, a mortal. But..." She paused, staring down at the pearls like they might answer for her. "Why do I feel like she isn’t just a mortal?"
Lux kept his eyes on the road. The world outside blurred—trees, city lights, and faint traces of rain on the glass. He could feel her watching him though, waiting.
"That..." He exhaled, rubbing a thumb along the steering wheel. "We’ll find out later. But yeah. She is a mortal. Or maybe was a mortal."
The car humd low between them. Sira turned her gaze back to the window. "You an soone changed her into a demon?"
Her tone was almost mocking, but not quite. The words hung there too long to be a joke.
"That’s impossible," she said finally. "Except for lords like us."
"I know," Lux muttered. "And that’s the problem."
He slowed at a red light, letting the silence eat through the cabin. Even the faint violins from Devil’s Dance sounded distant now. The hum of the city felt like static, white and broken.
"Well, that sll of greed is the most bugging ," Lux continued, almost to himself. "I don’t care if she’s demon, mortal, or sothing in-between. I want to know where that greed ca from."
Sira didn’t say anything. But she didn’t have to.
He felt it too—the weight of her stare, the slow coil of realization building behind her prideful calm. That greed wasn’t Lux’s. Wasn’t his father’s. It was... older. Stranger. A flavor they’d both forgotten but sohow rembered in their bones.
The light turned green. Lux pressed down gently, the car sliding forward with chanical smoothness.
The drive back to the mansion was a blur. Streetlights flickered past like candles on a crypt. The city’s usual warmth—the neon, the buzz, the faint trace of infernal perfu from passing cars—felt dimr tonight. Like the world was holding its breath.
By the ti they reached the mansion gates, the storm had started.
Fat, cold drops hit the windshield. Each one sharp enough to echo in the silence. The mansion’s outer wards shimred against the rain—thin veins of magic forming geotric patterns that rippled across the gates as they opened.
Usually, that word carried power. Tonight, it just felt heavy.
They rolled into the courtyard. The infernal lamps lining the marble driveway lit themselves as they approached, each one flaring faintly green in recognition of their master’s return. The rain hit the roof harder, tracing lines down the glass.
Lux parked near the main steps, the tires whispering against wet stone.
He didn’t move for a second. Neither did she.
Sira finally broke it. "You’re quiet."
He smiled without warmth. "You’re sober."
She huffed a small laugh but didn’t reply.
He shut off the engine, the low hum dying into silence. The rain filled it instead—softer now, but constant.
Outside, Fenrir was already waiting, holding an umbrella like the loyal wolf he was. His tailored suit was soaked at the shoulders, but he didn’t seem to care.
"Lord Lux," he said, opening the driver’s door.
Lux stepped out into the sll of wet marble and distant ozone. "Here," he said, tossing him the keys. "Park it."
"Yes, my lord."
Sira got out too, the pearls still in her hand. Her heels clicked against the stone. Even in the rain, she moved like she owned the place.
Inside, warmth hit instantly. The mansion’s inner wards humd, adjusting temperature and lighting to their preferences—dim amber, gold reflections off dark glass, faint scent of roasted coffee and rain-drenched wood.
Lux shrugged off his coat. "Coffee," he said to the nearest servant.
Sira stretched her neck, hair clinging to her shoulders. "Wine."
The servant hesitated. "I thought you reduced your coffee intake, Lord Lux."
He turned his head just enough to glare. "I’m irritated. I need coffee."
The servant nodded and bolted.
Lux sank into the couch, exhaling like he’d been holding it in for an hour. The room flickered with the faint light of the fireplace—modern design, but the flas weren’t normal. Infernal fire, tad to mimic mortal warmth.
Sira leaned on the armrest, crossing her legs, still holding the pearls. Her eyes were half-lidded, but her posture scread tension.
"Want to talk about it?" she asked.
Lux waved a hand. A cluster his system interface, flickering like an old neon sign.
The data streams scrolled endlessly—contracts, currency flow, trade reports from the lower rings, even performance logs from the Vault. It was all stable. Perfect. Hell’s economy was thriving.
But he couldn’t shake the feeling that sothing was missing.
He tapped open his mory cache—one of his private sectors where his system recorded sensory archives of every major artifact he’d ever encountered. Rubies, gems, enchanted relics, fragnts of souls turned currency. Every single item filed, categorized, and priced.
Except this one.
Nothing.
The red circlet didn’t exist in his records.
He scrolled again. Faster. Lines of infernal code shimred and dissolved as he searched.
Still nothing.
Sira watched him silently. She knew better than to interrupt when he was like this.
Finally, he sat back, fingers twitching. "It’s not there."
She frowned. "You an—"
"My database doesn’t have it."
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