Chapter 509 – Greed's Old Model
Lux adjusted the collar of his white suit, smoothing the fabric down with a palm that trembled just slightly.
Not fear. Not guilt. Just tension. That tightly coiled, CEO-on-a-knife's-edge pressure that never really left him, even when he wore mortal silk and perfume instead of infernal runes and tailored soul-thread.
The fabric was clean. Crisp. Mortal made.
But still… it fit. Too well, maybe.
He sprayed the cologne across his neck and wrist. The scent was sharp at first—citrus and oud—but melted into something softer, warmer. Like gold dust and late night ink. A subtle flex. Just like everything he wore. Everything he built.
He stared at himself in the mirror.
The suit made him look less wicked. Less infernal. Like someone respectable. Like someone the Upper Realm wouldn't label a walking diplomatic incident.
