Villain MMORPG: Almighty Devil Emperor and His Seven Demonic Wives Chapter 1854: Is This How Men Cook Now?

Chapter 1854: Is This How n Cook Now?

Villain Ch 1854. Is This How n Cook Now?

Azura, cautious, narrowed her eyes. “What kind of board gas?”

Alice smiled like a fox who had just discovered fire. “Just regular fun ones.”

Allen—finally breaking his silence—set his fork down. “Sounds fishy.”

“I an it,” Alice said, shrugging. “But yeah. There’s… variation,” Alice said vaguely. “So are ta. So are… vibe-based.”

Larissa humd. “I vote we pick one based on Allen’s reactions. The more he panics, the better.”

“He doesn’t panic,” Vivian said. “He internalizes terror.”

“I’ve seen him flinch,” Jane offered.

“So,” Alice said, tapping her box. “After dinner. Gas. Agreed?”

Everyone nodded.

Allen?

He didn’t answer.

He just smiled.

Because yeah.

Let them play their ga.

Let them pretend it was all innocent.

He’d play along.

But that didn’t an he was going to sit there and be the passive, wide-eyed, slightly overwheld emperor all vacation long. Oh no. Not this ti.

This ti?

He was going to match them.

Beat them at their own ga.

And look good doing it.

He turned to them, face soft, voice honey-smooth. “Before we get to the board gas tonight…”

Everyone looked up.

“I want to make you all a little dessert.”

Pause.

That got attention.

“Awwww,” Bella cooed imdiately. “Allen wants to feed us~”

“What kind of dessert?” Zoe asked, eyes narrowing like she already suspected a trap.

Allen tilted his head, folding his arms like a thoughtful chef on a cooking show. “Well, sothing light. I figured fruits maybe? Maybe a little whipped cream? Sothing easy. Sothing…”

He smiled.

That smile.

Soft. Sweet. Angelic.

“…nice.”

Jane raised a brow. “You’re doing that on purpose.”

“What?” he asked, full-blown wholeso expression.

“That smile.”

“Oh, this?” He blinked. “I’m just trying to be nice.”

Shea leaned in. “Are we being played?”

Allen ignored them. “Fruits, then? No chocolate? Cheese?”

“Fruit,” Larissa said quickly.

“I second fruit,” Azura chid in, maybe too fast.

“Fruit’s lighter,” Alice said. “Less… dangerous.”

“Speak for yourself,” Jane muttered.

Allen gave them a calm nod. “Alright. I’ll keep it light. Don’t expect too much, though.”

They all nodded slowly.

Watching him.

Suspicious.

Nervous.

Because they had no idea what he was about to do.

Lunch wrapped up soon after, full of fake casual conversations about hiking boots, weather apps, and one suspicious debate between Alice and Bella on the rules of “Uno Dare.” The girls cleaned up together—dishes in the dishwasher, leftovers sealed up. So retreated into their rooms. A couple went out to the balcony with coffee to check social dia. Jane curled into the corner of the living room with her book again. Larissa set up her spa mask.

Then they went online. For a few hours. For grinding and all.

By the ti the sun dipped below the trees, the warm golden glow lit up the villa’s windows like sothing out of a music video. Evening slid in gentle. Soft.

And then they heard it.

-Clack. Tap. Whirrrr.

The unmistakable sound of a hand mixer.

A soft pop of the fridge opening.

The quiet shuffle of a man with purpose.

Then music.

Sothing jazzy. Lo-fi. A lazy, sexy beat that echoed out of the Bluetooth speaker with just enough rhythm to feel like temptation wearing headphones.

Azura was the first to move.

Of course she was.

Curiosity got her.

She padded across the hallway in her fuzzy socks, hesitated at the kitchen door… then peeked.

And stopped.

Like a statue.

Allen stood at the center island.

Apron on.

Nothing fancy. Just black. Tied around the back, hugging his waist. Sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

He wasn’t topless—thank God, that would’ve made her combust on the spot—but he looked dangerous. Too clean. Too calm. Like he had no idea what he was doing to the air.

He was whipping cream.

But it wasn’t just that.

It was the way he did it.

The slow swirl of his wrist. The calm focus in his eyes. The little flick of his tongue when he tasted the mixture. The way he diced strawberries with quiet precision, like this was his temple and dessert was sacred.

Azura’s brain short-circuited.

Because why was this hot?

He was cooking.

That’s all.

Just a man making whipped cream.

And yet—

-Drip!

A tiny dab of whipped cream slid down his finger. He caught it with his tongue and sucked it clean.

Azura made a noise.

A tiny, helpless squeak.

Then ducked behind the doorfra.

Vivian bumped into her. “What’s wrong—”

She peeked in.

Froze.

“…Oh.”

Then Bella. “What are you—”

“…oh damn.”

Zoe whispered, “What are you all staring a—”

Then froze mid-sentence.

“Oh, my God.”

Shea showed up, eyes sparkling, clearly expecting to see sothing scandalous.

She did.

Allen, still in his apron, still focused, sliced kiwi like a surgeon performing foreplay.

Shea bit her knuckle. “I did not expect to be this into fruit prep.”

Larissa joined, quiet but intrigued. Her wine glass tilted, her voice a low murmur. “He’s being too quiet. That’s not right.”

Jane was last. She didn’t say anything at first. Just leaned against the opposite wall, arms crossed.

Then she whispered, “Why does this feel… illegal?”

“No, seriously,” Azura murmured, cheeks flushed. “Is this normal? Like, is this how n cook now? Are they sucking whipped cream like that?”

“I don’t think so,” Jane replied, eyes narrowed, voice hushed. “But he looks so calm. Like he doesn’t even know what he’s doing to us.”

Alice crept in next, arms crossed. She peeked past the others, catching the full view—Allen in that apron, slicing fruit like a sensual monk.

She blinked.

Paused.

Then tilted her head and whispered, “Why does that look so… cinematic?”

No one answered.

Because yeah.

Allen wasn’t doing anything wrong.

He wasn’t flexing.

He wasn’t shirtless.

He wasn’t trying.

And yet.

He was gliding around the kitchen with an ease that felt almost intimate. Every movent slow, precise, focused. The way he licked a bit of whipped cream from his finger? Way too smooth. The way he pushed up his sleeves and exhaled when the honey drizzle stuck to his palm? Way too soft.

Zoe whispered, “I think I need to sit down.”

“You are sitting,” Bella muttered.

“Oh.”

She stared ahead. “Then I need to lie down.”

Still, none of them dared say the obvious.

Because clearly…

Allen had no idea what kind of chaos he was stirring.

Right?

Right…?

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