CHAPTER 446: ORPHANAGE INCIDENT

Chapter 446 – Orphanage Incident

Corvus bowed with his head, then vanished in a blink of feathers and smoke.

[System Notice: Investigation Directive Initialized — Target: Orphanage Incident]

[Subroutine Corvus Active. Estimated Time: 41 Minutes]

Lux stood there a while longer.

The breeze pushed a few dry leaves past his feet.

He could have just opened a portal to his mansion. Warped home. Teleported to his bath. Lullaby was probably curled up somewhere with a blanket. Sira was definitely half-dressed and pretending to read demon tax code just to annoy him.

But no.

He stayed.

Because sometimes even devils needed to feel the wind. Needed to remember what the mortal world smelled like when it wasn’t burning.

The grass. The metal of the park bench. The faint scent of roasted chestnuts from a cart too far to see.

He walked slowly down the path, past a swing set with creaky chains. A rusted slide.

The kind of park you’d see beside an old building. The kind of place orphans would run to when the halls got too loud.

He found an old bench and sat.

Didn’t lean. Just sat.

The sunset melted through the clouds, gold and pink and quiet.

And for a moment, Lux didn’t look like a demon.

Didn’t look like a CFO.

Didn’t look like the son of Greed.

Just a man in white robes.

Watching the sky.

Lux sat there on that worn bench like he didn’t belong in this world, and yet—somehow—he did. Sunset light kissed the edge of his cheek, and the breeze tugged lazily at his robe like it hadn’t made up its mind whether to treat him like a holy guest or a wandering ghost.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t blink much either.

Just... breathed.

Which was rare.

Because breathing meant not calculating. Not planning. Not charming his way through some god-tier mess between realms.

For once, he just existed.

And then—

A voice behind him.

"I never thought I’d meet you here, Lux."

Familiar. Feminine. Light, with that lilt that could pierce armor or sell you a dream if she wanted to.

His head tilted slightly. Not rushed. Not surprised. Just mildly curious.

He turned.

There she was.

Elyndra Vireleth.

And her expression?

Unreadable.

Mostly.

Lux gave a small smile. "Ely," he said, voice warm but not too warm. "What are you doing here?"

She blinked. "Just... chillin’."

That caught him off guard. Just a little. She wasn’t usually a "chillin’" type. She was more elegantly assessing property value while sipping imported wine.

He stood up, brushing the folds of the white robe flat with one hand. "You chill?"

"I’m trying." She looked at him more closely, eyebrows slightly raised. "You... look different."

He glanced down. Then back at her.

"Oh, right."

He reached up, undid the celestial clasp at his collar, and peeled the robe off in one smooth, practiced motion—folding it once and tucking it over his arm.

Beneath it?

The devil was back.

Black-on-black tailored suit, silk tie with a silver pin, a faint shimmer of infernal charm across his skin like heat rising off pavement.

His aura shifted.

The air changed.

He looked like temptation dipped in danger again.

Ely watched it all happen. Silently.

And her heart did something inconvenient.

She cleared her throat, blinking once. "...Right. That’s more like the Lux I know."

He gave a lazy half-bow. "Diplomatic business."

"I won’t ask," she said. "I assume it involved one of your deals."

"Or twelve," he murmured.

She didn’t smile. But the edge of her lip twitched. Just slightly.

Then he gestured toward the bench. "Join me?"

Ely hesitated for a second. Then nodded and sat, her posture as graceful as always—back straight, knees crossed, hands folded in her lap like she’d been raised in a royal court, which she probably had.

Lux glanced at her, then at the abandoned building.

"You scouting that?"

Ely followed his gaze. "Yeah," she said, casually pointing. "Came to check out the lot. It’s near the park. I thought maybe I could turn it into something... better. A kid-friendly café. Or a reading garden. Something where people could come in with their families. Pay by the hour. Run a few enchantments so it adjusts based on mood or weather."

He tilted his head. "Family café?"

She glanced at him. "What?"

"I thought you were all about luxury towers and high-tier plazas."

She shrugged, still looking forward. "I am. But... I don’t know. This place felt different."

Lux went quiet for a beat.

Then nodded once. "Yeah. It is different."

He didn’t elaborate.

And Ely didn’t ask.

She didn’t need to.

Because he looked different.

Maybe it wasn’t the robe.

Maybe it was the silence in his eyes. Or the softness in his voice. Or the fact that for once, he didn’t have four girls orbiting him like a smug solar system.

Right now?

He just looked... tired.

And real.

Ely looked at his profile again—his jawline, his mouth, the line of his throat where the suit didn’t quite hide the pulse under his skin.

He didn’t look human, but also more human than he used to.

No one that smooth, that composed, that alive could be mortal.

But still.

He looked more human tonight than most people she’d ever met.

And that made her chest twist.

She smoothed a strand of hair behind her ear. "I thought you hated parks."

"I do," he said. "Usually. Too clean. Too quiet. Not enough places to hide when a celestial tracking squad’s looking for you."

She blinked. "...What?"

"Nothing," he said quickly. "Old trauma."

She raised a brow. "You’ve got a lot of that, huh?"

He looked at her. Really looked.

And for a moment, the grin faded.

"I’m starting to realize," he said slowly, "that most of my life is trauma. Dressed up in paperwork and pretty girls."

Ely didn’t laugh.

Didn’t smile.

She just watched him.

Then asked, very quietly, "Do you regret it?"

"Regret what?"

"All of it."

Lux looked at the building again. The "For Sale" sign tilted in the grass. The broken window. The ghost of laughter that might’ve echoed here once.

"I don’t know," he said.

Ely studied his face. The shadows under his eyes. The tension in his jaw.