CHAPTER 291: SELFLESSNESS

Chapter 291 – Selflessness

Lux smirked faintly, catching her wrist and pressing a kiss against the inside of her palm. He held it there for a second longer than necessary, like he wanted to ground himself with the scent of her skin, the warmth of her touch.

Sira pulled her hand back first, striding over to the chair across from him, her legs crossing with careless grace. She reached for a croissant from the platter, tearing it delicately as if it were some kind of ritual. The shirt she wore—his—slipped just enough off her shoulder to tease.

"Just don’t let it make you soft," she said finally, her voice sharp but not cruel. She bit into the pastry, chewing slowly, her violet eyes fixed on him. "You are Hell’s CFO, Lux. That mindset—cold, hard, unbending—is important for all of us."

Lux sank back into his chair, pouring himself another coffee with deliberate calm. "I know." He stirred it once, twice, then looked at her. "Don’t worry about that."

She leaned forward, elbow on the table, her chin propped against her palm. "So?" she purred, smirk tugging at her lips. "What do you plan today?"

Lux took a sip before answering, savoring the bitterness like it was armor. "Housewarming party. Tonight. I’ll invite some... people."

Her brow arched. "Hmm. Interesting. I’ve never had that before."

He chuckled. "It’s a mortal thing. Networking disguised as leisure. They think wine and bread make them honest."

Sira hummed, thoughtful, tapping her nail against her cup. "I see. And what will you do before that?"

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he set the coffee aside and leaned back, his fingers drumming faintly against the table. "Check on the financial department a bit. And..." His eyes flickered, sharp with calculation. "...maybe go up."

Sira’s gaze sharpened instantly. "You mean... the Celestial realm?"

He nodded once.

"Why?" Her tone wasn’t mocking. It was wary.

"Because the original trace of my bounty is from above," he said evenly. "Probably from higher up. I need to talk to—"

"Why not just declare war?" Sira cut him off.

Lux huffed, running a hand through his hair. "No." His tone was firm, sharper than usual. "We have an alliance. A hard one. If we break into war, that alliance shatters. And not just politically."

Sira’s eyes narrowed. "Then what?"

He looked her dead in the eye, voice low. "Not to mention the contract. I bound it with my soul. If I break it..." He tapped his chest lightly, where the faint glow of infernal seal sometimes flickered. "...I break myself."

The silence after that wasn’t empty. It was heavy, full of things unspoken.

Sira leaned back in her chair, staring at him for a long time. Of course she knew. She’d seen the flicker of that brand before. She knew Lux had sacrificed more than most demons would ever dare. Binding a soul contract with Celestials? Risky. Stupid. Brilliant. Dangerous. All at once.

And it was exactly something he would do.

She looked away, her smirk faltering for the briefest moment. Because as much as she wanted to mock the Celestials for their hypocrisy—for not even being able to keep their own dogs on a leash—she couldn’t. Pride territory was the same. Beasts slipped leashes there too. Ambition burned holes through rules, and even the mighty couldn’t stop it.

"Of course," she murmured finally, eyes tracing the rim of her teacup. "Always calculating."

Lux shrugged. "That’s my job."

Sira’s gaze slid back to him. She tilted her head, smirk curling again, but her thoughts spun beneath it.

She hated how much sense he made. She hated that he was willing to carry that weight, bind himself, bleed himself, just to keep a fragile peace in place. Because it wasn’t the Greed or Lust in him that scared her—it was that dangerous selflessness, buried under all the gold and contracts, that made her chest tighten in ways she refused to name.

"You’ll kill yourself one day doing this," she said softly, almost like it was prophecy.

Lux smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "Probably. But at least the books will be balanced."

She wanted to laugh. To sneer. To tell him he was ridiculous. But instead, Sira found herself leaning back, sipping her tea in silence, watching the way he moved—the way he carried himself like a man who owned the room, even when his soul was collateral.

She should be furious. She should be terrified. But instead...

She admired him.

And that was far more dangerous.

Sira let the silence stretch before she broke it, her smirk curling sharp again. "So tell me, Lux... at this little ’housewarming party,’ are you going to keep collecting girls?"

Lux didn’t flinch. He leaned back and said plainly, "Yes. I will."

Her brows arched, amusement flickering. "Oh? At least you’re honest about it."

"They’re not collections," Lux continued, his tone lower, more deliberate. "I don’t want trophies. I want..." He hesitated, searching for words that didn’t come easily to a Greed-blooded incubus. "Connections. Real ones. Something that isn’t a contract, or a ledger, or a transaction. Something I can’t just buy."

Sira tilted her head, her smirk softening into something sly. "Mm. I heard that. What they said to you earlier." She leaned forward, elbows on the table, eyes gleaming with that dangerous Pridefire. "Naomi asked for your heart. Rava, too. You looked like someone slapped you with a loss report."

Lux frowned faintly. "You were awake?"

"I don’t sleep through good drama."

He exhaled slowly, gaze flicking away for a beat. "...Yeah. They want something real. And I don’t know how to give it. But I’ll try."

Sira’s smirk widened, sharp and playful as a blade. "I can give you that too."

Lux’s eyes narrowed instantly, suspicion coiling. "You sure? Because coming from you, Sira, it sounds like a trap."

She laughed—low and rich, violet eyes burning with amusement. "Maybe it is. Maybe it isn’t. You’ll just have to trust me."

Lux leaned closer, matching her smirk with one of his own, their faces only inches apart. "Trust you? Now that’s the real gamble."

Sira’s lips curved, but she didn’t pull away. "And you love a gamble, CFO."

Lux’s pulse quickened, his instincts screaming that this was dangerous ground—but gods, it was the kind of danger he lived for.