Villain MMORPG: Almighty Devil Emperor and His Seven Demonic Wives

Villain Ch 1635. Please Don’t Remind Us

James answered before Noah could. “Because Bell’s wife’s family has pull. Political, corporate. The kind of influence that makes rumors dangerous.”

Noah nodded. “Exactly. Bell didn’t tell Liam and Darren though. Probably too proud. I didn’t tell them either.”

Allen’s jaw tightened—not from frustration, but control. This was exactly how he planned it. The pawns were finally moving, just like he wanted. And now? They were exactly where they needed to be. Right on the board, exposed, twitching, thinking they had agency.

While the real player smiled quietly in the dark.

“She’s isolating them,” he spoke. “Letting them burn bridges just slow enough that they think they’re still holding the match.”

James looked across the table. “You look like you’ve seen this before.”

“I’ve lived it,” Allen replied.

The table went quiet for a second, the kind of silence that felt loaded—like a fuse had just been lit, and no one was sure how long the burn would last.

The tavern’s low ambient lighting gave everything a sepia haze. Warm golden sconces flickered along stone walls, and the scent of roasted game and spiced cider lingered in the air. In the background, a bard lazily strummed a lute, playing to no one in particular. Ront City’s midnight tavern crowd had thinned. Most players were either asleep or grinding dungeons. Only a few NPCs milled about, murmuring programmed gossip about a noble’s daughter eloping or a missing caravan.

Allen ordered more and the drinks came.

Four tall glasses. Frosted. One pitcher of glowing, purple elven wine, two mugs of bitterbrew for the hunters, and a smooth golden cider with cinnamon for Allen. The waitress bowed slightly, her NPC protocol crisp and silent, before fading back into the shadows.

Allen lifted his glass first. “Thank you.”

Steam curled lazily from the rim of his drink. He took a small sip, savoring the taste. Spiced, warm. Familiar.

Elio leaned closer, elbows on the table. “Do you think it’ll stop her?”

Allen glanced at him.

“I mean… if Liam and Darren blackmail her back. Or if they push hard enough. She might crack, right? Surrender. Stop.”

Allen didn’t answer right away. His gaze dropped to the polished wood of the table, watching the distorted reflection of the candlelight dance across the lacquer.

Then he exhaled.

“Elio,” he said, swirling his drink. “She and I broke up two years ago.”

Elio nodded slowly. “Yeah…”

Allen’s voice lowered, just enough to draw the others in. “And you saw what she’s still trying to do. She keeps crawling back. Digging. Planting landmines. Throwing dirt just to see if something sticks.”

He took another drink.

“She even used you.”

Elio tensed slightly.

“And let’s not forget,” Allen added, looking around the table, “she once tried to manipulate the Order of Valiance. The whole main team.”

James looked grim. “Please don’t remind us.”

Allen’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “So do you think a few counter-threats from Liam and Darren will magically fix that? Do you think she’ll forget everything and drop the act?”

Elio sighed. “No… I guess not.”

James tapped his mug. “Makes sense.”

Noah nodded. “Yeah. I mean… I gotta say, she’s damn convincing. Even I almost believed her.”

James frowned. “We?”

“I said almost,” Noah clarified, holding up a finger. “Not all.”

Elio gave a guilty shrug. “I did believe her. Once. Thought you were the problem, Allen.”

Allen smirked, setting his drink down with a soft clink. “Thanks.”

He didn’t sound sarcastic. Just amused.

“I don’t mind,” he added. “I’m not responsible for how people choose to perceive me. That’s on them.”

The tavern was quieter now. Even the bard had stopped playing.

Noah leaned forward again. “So… does that mean Sophia deserves prison?”

Allen’s eyes flicked toward him, unreadable.

“With everything she’s done?”

Allen rolled his glass slowly between his palms. “That depends.”

“On what?”

“On Mr. Bell. Liam. Darren. Whether they push hard enough. Whether she slips.”

James narrowed his eyes. “What about you, Allen? Don’t you want her gone?”

Allen smiled—slowly, deliberately.

“I do.”

There was something cold behind it. Not rage. Not spite.

Control.

“But she can’t touch me now,” Allen said, his voice soft and sharp all at once. “Not with my status.”

And just like that, the air in the tavern shifted.

The warmth bled out.

Even the fire in the hearth seemed to dim, as if the flames were suddenly aware of who was speaking.

Allen didn’t raise his voice. Didn’t move.

But something in his presence twisted. Like a blade had been drawn in silence.

Elio looked up, eyes narrowing. “You look like you want to kill someone.”

Allen didn’t blink. “Want?”

The smile returned—barely.

“I plan.”

Noah cleared his throat, the tension crackling in the space like a charged wire.

James didn’t say anything. He just studied Allen. Like trying to see behind the curtain.

Allen let out a short chuckle.

“Just kidding,” he said, lifting his drink with a casual shrug.

But somehow… It wasn’t convincing.

The smile was there. The tone light enough. But the look in his eyes? That was the tell. The glint beneath his irises said otherwise—like a predator already deep in the woods, just waiting for the wind to shift in his favor.

No one laughed. Not even Noah.

Allen leaned back in his seat, his cloak draping over the edge of the bench like spilled shadow, folds pooling in silent waves.

“She thinks she’s isolating them,” he said, voice cooling into something deliberate. “One by one. Liam. Darren. Mr. Bell. All pushed into different corners, thinking she’s in control. Thinking she’s the one making the decisions.”

He traced a finger idly around the rim of his glass, eyes fixed somewhere beyond the flickering tavern lights. “She’s already burning her bridges—just slow enough to convince herself there’s still time to turn back.”

Allen paused, then added with a faint smirk, “There isn’t.”

James tapped a finger on the table. “You look like you’ve seen this before.”

“I told you,” Allen said. “I lived it.”

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