Harem Startup : The Demon Billionaire is on Vacation

The treadmill was covered in a layer of dust so thick Lux could've sworn it had stratified into generations.

He dragged a finger across it slowly, eyes narrowing with the rising horror of someone witnessing unspeakable poverty.

Dust clung to his skin like guilt.

"…This is thicker than Lust's library dust," he muttered, flicking the grime off his fingertip like it had personally insulted his bloodline. "And that place has scrolls from before time was horny."

He took one more slow look around.

The punching bag swayed gently, as if apologizing for existing.

The push-up bench creaked in the corner like it had PTSD.

"No." Lux turned on his heel. "Hell no. I'm not touching any of this. I'd rather hump a rusty sword than work out in a place that smells like neglect and old leather."

[Would you like to search for external fitness options, sir?]

"Yes," he snapped. "Search me a real gym. Something luxurious. Private. Sanitized. Not… this."

[Searching…]

The system flared green for a moment.

[Result located: 'Echelon Apex – Private Gym & Wellness Club'.]

[Distance: 8.3 kilometers.]

[Reputation Score: 9.7/10.]

[Clientele includes Fortune-class CEOs, celebrities, and at least one minor deity.]

Lux blinked. "Apex? Sounds appropriately self-indulgent."

[Facilities include: multi-floor gym, personal trainers, enchanted cryo-spa, reflexology sauna, resistance mana training, pools, rooftop infinity hot tub, and complimentary mineral-infused towels.]

He was already halfway down the stairs. "That'll do."

He didn't even bother changing. Still shirt unbuttoned halfway down, black slacks slung low on his hips, a lazy aura of "I might bankrupt you for fun" clinging to his stride like expensive cologne.

Lyra was dusting the hallway chandelier when he passed by.

"Lyra," Lux said without breaking pace, "clean the gym."

She paused mid-polish, glanced down from the stepladder, and raised an eyebrow. "Shall I incinerate it, or just start with industrial purification?"

"Both," he said. "Dust's older than some infernal treaties in there."

Outside, his motorcycle waited.

He swung one leg over, the bike roaring to life.

And then he was gone, wind slicing through the afternoon heat as he sped toward Echelon Apex.

The gym was absurd.

It looked like a high priest had asked an architect, "What if we made a temple to muscle definition and generational wealth?" and the architect replied, "Say no more."

Silver-veined obsidian walls. Waterfalls instead of walls in some areas. There was a chandelier in the locker room.

Lux parked out front like he owned the place.

Inside, the receptionist stood behind a podium shaped like a minimalist lotus made of glass panes.

"Welcome to Echelon Apex," she said, smile crisp as a dividend payout. "Do you have a membership?"

Lux slid his sunglasses down just a touch. "Just here to crash for the day. My gym's under renovation and I need somewhere that doesn't smell like retired protein powder."

She hesitated. "Ah… I see. Unfortunately, our membership packages begin at the annual tier. One year minimum."

Lux arched an eyebrow. "No day pass? Not even a crash-and-sweat special?"

"We pride ourselves on long-term commitment," she said, tone polite but unwavering. "It creates… exclusivity."

"Mm." Lux folded his arms. "Exclusivity is expensive-speak for gated cardio."

She blinked.

He sighed dramatically, already calculating the time value of money versus the cost of not working out. But before he could counter-offer with a hostile takeover—

"We do offer our rooftop hydrotherapy pool to select non-members for a limited fee," she added quickly, perhaps sensing he was one form away from buying the damn place. "If you wish to simply… relax."

That caught his attention.

A pool. Cold water. A chance to soak, breathe, and maybe wash off the smell of furniture assembly and his own pent-up lust aura.

"I'll take it," he said.

"Of course. You'll need proper attire. We offer a line of branded swimming apparel."

He sighed. "Fine. One pool access and swim trunks."

"That will be $1,200."

So he paid.

The changing room was absurdly pristine. Too clean. The kind of sterile shine that made you feel like the tiles judged your past decisions.

He stripped with the slow regret of a man signing away his pride for an hour soaking. The trunks—black, sinfully tight, embroidered with the Apex logo—left exactly nothing to the imagination.

Not even a sliver of plausible deniability.

He caught sight of himself in the mirror.

"…Gods above and below," he muttered, dragging a hand down his face. "I look like I'm about to seduce the entire royal court by accident."

His cock was outlined like it had its own attendance roster. His hips looked sculpted. His abs were doing that obnoxious thing where they glistened even without effort.

Luckily, all of Sira's marks were gone by now.

How? Regeneration.

Lux's body could handle worse—he had to. Sometimes he had to show up in the upper realms, smiling politely while meeting with goddesses after lobbying some high-ranking succubus duchess down in the Lust District.

And up there? He had to look presentable. No claw marks. No hickeys. No bite-shaped signatures of a Pride Lord's daughter still fresh on his neck. Diplomacy demanded a clean canvas—even after very hands-on negotiations.

Lux stared at his reflection.

"…You know what? Fine."

If the pool wanted a show, it was about to get one.

The rooftop pool was a luxury incarnate.

Infinity edges. Mana-filtered water which was rare in the mortal realm. Soft chill mist hovering above the surface like fog from an expensive dream. Lounge chairs made of solar-reactive mesh, glowing faintly. Ambient music played somewhere—light stringed instruments and faint synth, like a spa that also did assassinations on the side.

And the clientele?

Yeah, not the gym rat kind.

Mostly women. Wealthy women. Young heiresses sipping cocktails, bored mid-tier celebrities doing water yoga, two minor nobles tanning like they'd filed divorce papers with the sun itself. Rich housewives with too much money, too little love, and an emotional void the size of a finance god.

They barely looked up—at first.

Then Lux stepped out from the sliding doors.

And everything slowed.