Villain MMORPG: Almighty Devil Emperor and His Seven Demonic Wives

Villain Ch 1630. Viral Things Never Stay Forever

Michael didn’t even blink.

He just turned his full attention to Allen. “And you?”

Allen cleared his throat, already regretting every decision that led to this moment. “Yours, of course. I mean, come on… I only brought that one here because it was trending. I wasn’t comparing. I swear.”

Michael stared.

Allen stared back. A bead of sweat might have rolled down his spine.

Michael exhaled through his nose. “Viral things… never stay forever, young master.”

Allen nodded slowly. “Noted.”

Michael kept glaring for a few seconds longer, then finally stepped back with a curt nod—

Victorious.

Terrifying.

Like a general who’d just conquered the final hill and now marched back to the kitchen to polish his ladle.

Allen shoveled more cake into his mouth just to avoid talking.

For a brief moment—just a tiny one—the Goldborne dining table wasn’t a warzone.

It was still dangerous.

But at least no one was dying.

“Since all of you are satisfied, now I will excuse myself.”

Chef Michael turned on his heel and stalked off toward the kitchen, apron fluttering behind him like a war banner. The double doors swung closed behind him with a soft whoosh of resignation and exhaustion.

Allen exhaled the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding for the past thirty minutes. “Holy shit…”

A quiet shuffle came from his right, and then— Kai appeared with a gleaming silver teapot.

“You will need this,” Kai said, pouring steaming amber tea into Allen’s cup like a surgeon prepping an IV.

Allen took it with both hands, nodding like a traumatized soldier. “Thank you, Kai. You get me.”

He took a sip. Hot. Floral. Calming.

“Kai…” Allen said after a moment, side-eyeing the kitchen. “Is he always like that?”

Kai didn’t even blink. “Yes.”

Allen blinked back. “That’s it? Just—’yes’?”

Kai nodded once. “Chef Michael. He is… consistent.”

“Consistently insane,” Allen muttered.

Alex stepped up behind Jordan and poured him a glass of deep red wine with smooth precision. “But he always tries his best for Goldborne,” Alex said thoughtfully. “Despite appearances, he is deeply devoted to this household. Even if he appears, ah… obsessed.”

Jordan took the glass, swirling it lightly before taking a sip. “And he accepts suggestions—so long as you phrase them politely. With proper tone. And not during plating. And ideally not when he’s holding a knife.”

Emma grinned, leaning back in her chair. “So basically… never.”

Jordan chuckled softly, then turned to Allen. “But yes. He does have one fatal flaw.”

Allen raised an eyebrow. “Just one?”

Jordan nodded, serious now. “He hates other food being brought into this house. Especially in quantity. If someone brings outside food here more than once… he considers it a betrayal.”

Allen stared at him. “You make him sound like a traditional housewife who throws a passive-aggressive fit every time her husband brings home takeout.”

Kai made a small sound. Almost a cough. Possibly a stifled laugh.

Alex pursed his lips, adjusting the wine bottle. “An accurate metaphor, sir.”

Emma choked on her tea and had to dab her mouth with a napkin, shoulders shaking.

Jordan shrugged. “We all have our quirks.”

Allen leaned back, stretching slightly, eyes flicking toward the kitchen doors as if expecting Michael to crash through them again wielding a cake slicer like a cleaver. “Remind me never to bring food here again unless I want to get emotionally stabbed.”

Kai lifted the pot silently. “Refill?”

“Yes please,” Allen said, sliding the cup forward like it was a safety blanket. “Tea me up.”

As the steam curled up again, filling the air with a faint aroma of roasted oolong and citrus, the table fell into a strange sort of post-war calm.

Emma, quietly nibbling on the last bits of her cake.

Jordan sipped wine like he had nothing to do with the earlier tension bomb.

Kai served without a wrinkle in his collar.

Alex reset the cutlery like this was just another Tuesday.

And Allen?

Allen just sat there, watching it all, that slow, dangerous smirk returning to his face.

His fork lazily circled the last bit of chocolate on the plate like it owed him rent.

“So,” Jordan said suddenly, swirling his wine glass with practiced indifference. “I heard you took a modeling gig with that agency again.”

Allen blinked. “Urban Enigma?”

Jordan nodded. “Mhm.”

Allen leaned back, resting his elbow on the chair arm. “Yeah. Photoshoot’s tomorrow. Outdoor set. Something artsy.”

Emma perked up, licking frosting from her thumb. “Ooooh, is it the new ‘Obsidian After Dark’ campaign? The one with the moody lighting and dangerously unbuttoned shirts?”

Allen gave her a long look. “Please never say ‘dangerously unbuttoned’ again while making eye contact.”

“No promises,” she said sweetly.

Jordan cleared his throat. “Just make sure you bring Kai and a few guards with you.”

Allen raised an eyebrow. “Why? I usually go to shoots alone. I’ve got sunglasses now. And my resting ‘don’t talk to me’ face has improved.”

Jordan didn’t smile. “Exactly. You’re more recognizable because of that face. Sunglasses or not.”

Allen opened his mouth, then closed it. Damn. He had a point.

Jordan sipped his wine. “Photoshoots involve a lot of people. Makeup artists. Lighting techs. PR reps. Some of them have bigger mouths than others. The more eyes on you, the greater the risk.”

“Risk of what?” Allen asked, half serious, half annoyed.

Jordan gave him a pointed look. “Reporters might be there. Surprise interviews. Paparazzi crawling behind the lighting rigs. They know you’re a Goldborne, Allen. You’re still a target. They still want more information—something, anything they can twist into headlines.”

Allen sighed. “True.”

Kai, standing beside him with the teapot, simply nodded. “I’ve already arranged transportation. Two unmarked cars. Five guards. And wardrobe backups in case of sabotage or spillage.”

Allen turned to look at him. “What do you think is going to happen? Someone throw soup at me on set?”

Kai didn’t answer.

Emma, sipping her tea with the calm of someone absolutely enjoying this entire drama, chimed in, “Honestly, I’d pay to see someone try. Can we livestream it?”

Allen groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Fine. Kai’s coming. Guards are coming. Can we not turn my modeling gig into a full-blown mission briefing?”

Jordan smiled faintly. “Not everything is a mission.”

Allen muttered, “Coming from the guy who sent spies to my old family.”

Jordan raised his glass in toast.

“Efficiency.”

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