Chapter 637 – Mimic
The breakfast finished.
The girls were gone.
Rava left first, fixing her blouse with one hand while muttering sothing about a shipping line rger that needed her claws.
Mira followed her, gliding like a storm in silk and scent, still pretending she wasn’t sore.
Ely bowed at the door, ears flushed, mumbling about diplomatic scrolls.
Naomi clicked her heels and left last, tossing her hair and giving Lux a lingering look that said, ’we’re not done.’
Sira didn’t kiss him, she bit his ear and whispered sothing Prideful and obscene before vanishing in a flare of royal recall magic.
And Lux?
He was still there. Sitting alone in the oversized lounge chair, shirt open, tie forgotten sowhere under the table, and his tea gone cold on the armrest.
But his eyes weren’t on the tea. Or the ssy breakfast table. Or the fading scent of aroused won in the room.
They were on the glowing System window hovering quietly in front of him.
[Target Profile: Vincent Albrecht]
[Age: 28]
[Net Worth: $700 Million]
[Appearance: Human. 184 cm. Dark hair. Brown eyes. Fit build. Similar hairstyle.]
[Known Aliases: None]
[Location: East Quarter – Capital Borderline]
[Current Status: Active]
[Affiliations: Chairman of Valeon Corp. Special Investor at Nightfire Group.]
[Recent Activity: High-society events. Political donations under the na: Lux Vaelthorn.]
Lux blinked slowly.
Sa hairstyle.
Sa bone structure.
Sa height.
Even his fucking smirk.
He reached for his tea, took a sip, and winced when he realized it was ice cold. Then he exhaled and slouched deeper into the couch like so irritated panther with a broken champagne flute in one paw and a leaked stock chart in the other.
"Why?" he muttered.
The System didn’t answer. Of course it didn’t. It was waiting for the real question.
Lux narrowed his eyes and dragged two fingers through the air.
"Dig deeper. Show a glimpse of his past. Family. History. dical. Financial roots."
[Working... Retrieving Past Records...]
A smaller window blinked open. Photos. School reports. Company foundation date. Nothing dramatic. Nothing explosive. No mafia bloodlines. No soul-bound contracts or infernal sponsorships.
Not even a proper scandal.
In fact...
Lux raised an eyebrow.
"...he’s... actually clean?"
It was disappointing.
This guy, this copycat with his na, didn’t rise from so bankrupt abyss or war orphanage. He wasn’t born cursed. He wasn’t hated. He wasn’t abandoned by infernal nobility or tossed into so gladiator pit at age seven.
He had a nice school. Good teachers. Two parents. No massive debt. So bad relationships... sure. But overall?
Normal.
Which made the mimicry worse.
Lux leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and stared at the profile like it would blink first.
"He’s already rich. Has his own company. His own friends. Decent stocks. So..."
A pause.
"...why the hell is he pretending to be ?"
[Speculated reasons include: 1. Identity Obsession. 2. Strategic Positioning. 3. Psychological Affinity. 4. Seduction Attempt.]
"Wait. What was that last one?"
[4. Seduction Attempt. Estimated 7% likelihood. Targets: Your harem, status, or aura.]
Lux blinked. He sat upright.
"Did you just say... he might be doing this to seduce my girls?!"
[Possibly. However, his romantic record indicates... limited success.]
"Hah. You an he sucks."
[Statistically: yes.]
Lux rubbed his forehead.
And still, soone out there was trying to be him?
"System," he said slowly, dragging his fingers through his hair. "Do I know this guy? Ever t him?"
[No previous recorded contact. Facial recognition software confirms no direct encounters.]
"So... he’s just... randomly decided to beco ?"
[Affirmative.]
Lux exhaled a laugh, low and dangerous. "That’s ssed up."
He leaned back, tapping his finger against his thigh.
Alright. He could’ve just stord to the East Quarter. Could’ve yanked the guy by the collar mid-party, tossed him onto the front page of Finance Daily, ruined his entire brand, then whispered ’wrong na, dumbass’ in his ear before vanishing into smoke.
But that was too... simple.
Too kind.
[Would you like to confront him directly now?]
"No."
His voice was calm.
Cold.
Deliberate.
"It’s better to blow him up in public. At the right mont. Let the entire market watch."
He smirked, eyes gleaming like coin edges under a crimson moon.
"I’m gonna unmask him at an event so loud, they’ll be able to hear it in Heaven."
[Understood. Event search in progress...]
Still. Sothing didn’t sit right. The logic was too shaky.
Why impersonate him?
Lux Vaelthorn. The demon CFO. The Greed Prince. The Lust-Touched Incubus of Fiscal Chaos.
Most people ran from his na. Or tried to leash it. Or tried to seduce him into being soone else.
But to beco him?
Why?
That was the part that didn’t click.
Impersonating soone from the Nine Realms? Sure. Dangerous, but it happened. People loved pretending to be nobility, especially fallen ones.
But this?
This was the mortal realm. A place where people didn’t even know what Hell’s Central Finance Departnt was. Where the na Lux Vaelthorn didn’t inspire awe or terror or market-wide panic attacks.
Here?
He was just another foreign billionaire with a penchant for expensive suits, spicy won, and questionable sleep schedules. And now apparently soone else wanted in on that label.
But why?
Vincent Albrecht wasn’t broke. Far from it. The guy had more than enough money to build his own empire or collapse soone else’s. His stockholdings were stable. His past wasn’t full of scandals or embezzlent or financial desperation. Just... so bad romances. A few lawsuits from exes. Curses, actually.
Lux squinted.
"Wait, curses?" he muttered.
The system flickered.
[System Note: Subject has survived three confird love curses. Status: Resistant to minor enchantnts.]
"Huh."
Lux licked his lower lip thoughtfully. "So he’s basically mortal world on a shitty day."
That didn’t explain why he was copying him, though. Not just the haircut. Not just the aesthetic. No, this guy introduced himself at events as Lux Vaelthorn.
Lux. Fucking. Vaelthorn.
"Either you’re trying to get laid, or you’re trying to break sothing I built."
He stood up.
System windows vanished with a flick. The polished obsidian floors reflected the firelight, gold veins pulsing like heartbeats in glass. His reflection followed him, neat dressed, mussed hair, rings glowing on his fingers, eyes lit with sothing infernal and unforgiving.
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