CHAPTER 292: I’LL TRUST YOU

Chapter 292 – I’ll Trust You

"I guess..." he said finally, voice low, eyes steady on her red ones, "I’ll trust you. For now. We’re both demons. We can learn about it together."

Sira chuckled, the sound low and sultry, but not without an edge of something real beneath it. "That’s the idea..."

She leaned closer, her fingers trailing against his jawline, brushing over the stubble of exhaustion from the night before, then curling against the side of his neck. He could feel her nails graze his skin, not enough to cut but enough to remind him what she was. A predator in silk.

Her other hand caught his collar and pulled him closer until their breaths mingled. Her smirk curved into something more dangerous, almost tender.

"I like you, after all," she whispered, her voice a purr and a confession in one. "So I want to know how to make all this interesting... beyond the s*x."

Then she kissed him.

Hard.

Her tongue pushed into his mouth like it owned the place, and Lux didn’t hesitate to meet her. His hand cupped her jaw, holding her in place as his tongue tangled with hers, fire and arrogance clashing until they almost forgot where they were. It wasn’t soft, wasn’t romantic. It was a duel disguised as a kiss—two predators daring the other to give in first.

When she finally broke it, Sira sat back down like nothing had happened, licking the taste of him from her lips. She brushed her hair over her shoulder, her smirk smug, almost too casual.

"I need tea," she announced smoothly. "And something hot that hisses on my plate."

Lyra, without missing a beat, bowed slightly and gestured for her puppet-servants to move.

Lux leaned back, still catching his breath, smirking. "Just don’t bully my servants."

Sira waved a dismissive hand. "I won’t."

"And don’t give my girls too many weird ideas either."

That earned him a sharper smile. She lifted her fresh cup of tea when Lyra placed it before her, sipping with deliberate grace. "That," she said, eyes gleaming, "depends on my mood."

Lux sighed, finished his infused water, and debated whether he should drag himself to a bath. His body still carried the aches of feral excess, but instead of standing, he stayed. Because Sira was here.

So he did what he always did when silence threatened him—he worked.

He whispered under his breath, "System. Show me Hell Finance Department reports and market updates."

At once, a dozen holographic screens blinked into existence before him, each glowing faint green-gold. Charts scrolled with jagged lines, reports flickered open, stock indexes spun with rising and falling values, balance sheets stacked themselves neatly like weapons ready for battle. Updates poured in, scrolling fast enough to drown an ordinary man.

Lux’s expression hardened. His eyes scanned everything, his fingers flicking through charts, pulling one, expanding another, cross-checking numbers as if his very blood was made of ink and numbers. He muttered to himself now and then—percentages, shifts, trade terms—his mind razor sharp despite the mess of his body.

Sira sipped her tea, watching him from across the table.

That face.

She’d seen him wild. She’d seen him feral, claws in her skin, teeth at her throat, eyes burning with lust enough to make her bones quake. She’d seen him smile like a devil, smirk like a CFO, flirt like he could bankrupt Heaven with a wink. But this—

This was the CFO face.

The sharpness of it. The precision. The way his posture changed, all straight lines and cold calculation, even though she could still see the faint bruises on his collarbone, the scratches on his throat, the wildness lingering in his hair from last night. He was a mess—clearly, clearly a mess—but he snapped into work like flipping a switch.

Her gaze narrowed.

She knew that look. She’d seen her father wear it once—back when Pride still mattered, before arrogance rotted into complacency. But Lux wasn’t Pride. He was Greed, and Greed wasn’t about vanity. Greed was hunger, calculation, the art of never letting a single coin fall without knowing where it landed.

And his system...

Her eyes flickered over the screens. Dozens, layered, each one tied not only to him but to the very spine of Hell’s economy. Some royal demons whispered about it, some guessed. Few knew. But she knew—because she paid attention. That system wasn’t just his toy. It was bound to him. Bound to the Finance Department itself.

Why? Because the Finance Department was the real villain of Hell. Not the generals. Not the Kings. Not the warlords.

No—finance was where the realm bled.

They were the ones who said yes or no when lords demanded resources. They were the ones who calculated if a war was sustainable, if rebuilding a city could be afforded, if feeding an army outweighed feeding the poor. They were the silent knife, deciding who lived rich and who starved, not on the battlefield but behind a desk.

And Lux... Lux carried that blade.

She thought of his father—Zavros, Lord of Greed. Reliable? No. A monster, yes. But reliable? Never.

Lux was better. Lux was the Finance Department. And while warlords and generals stood on stages to take glory, while kings declared victories, Lux sat here in silence, drowning in numbers, making the decisions no one would thank him for.

It pained her, though she’d never admit it aloud.

Because even on "vacation," here he was, staring at balance sheets while his body was wrecked, while his girls were sore from last night, while he should have been recovering.

Because Hell’s economy balanced on his shoulders.

Sira’s smirk faltered for the briefest moment. She put her tea down, eyes still on him.

’Idiot,’ she thought, her pride and her heart snarling in the same breath. ’You’re going to kill yourself for a ledger no one even sees.’

And yet, she couldn’t look away.

Lux leaned forward, one finger dragging down a screen, eyes gleaming as numbers shifted. "Tch. Index of Wrath Steel dropped again. No surprise—they can’t manage production past Q2." His voice was flat, focused. "Better pull subsidies before the board starts bleeding margins."

Sira tilted her head, staring at him. "You sound like you’re playing war with coins."

He didn’t look up. "I am."

"And what do you win?" she asked softly, almost mocking, almost curious.

Lux flicked another report aside, eyes narrowing. "Hell doesn’t starve. Armies don’t collapse. Balance stays intact. That’s my win."