Villain MMORPG: Almighty Devil Emperor and His Seven Demonic Wives Chapter 1961 - Capítulo 1961: Not as His Shadow

Capítulo 1961: Not as His Shadow

Villain Ch 1961. Not as His Shadow

She didn’t flinch.

“I just wanted to say this,” Elio continued, voice low, even. “I hope you recover. I hope this place helps. And I hope you move on. Without Allen.”

That did it.

Her eyes snapped to his.

“I knew it,” she hissed. “You were always jealous of him. You wanted to be him. Be with him.”

Elio didn’t react. He just t her gaze.

“No,” he said simply. “I wanted you to see . Not as his shadow. Just… .”

She laughed. Short. Cracked. Hollow.

“You never stood a chance.”

“I know.”

He stood.

Turned.

Didn’t say goodbye.

Sophia wrapped her arms around her knees again. Rocked slightly. Mumbled Allen’s na once. Then again. A whisper that repeated like a skipping record.

Outside, the air was cold.

Elio put his helt back on, fingers stiff.

Gilbert slid into the driver’s seat but didn’t start the car. Not right away.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low.

“No,” Elio admitted. “But we did what we ca for.”

Gilbert looked out the window, then exhaled through his nose. “She’s not coming back from that.”

“I know.”

They didn’t say anything else for a long ti.

So heartbreaks don’t end in fire.

So just… decay. Quietly. Bit by bit. Until all that’s left is a na whispered in a room that slls like bleach and broken promises.

So people never heal.

So people don’t want to.

And so?

They only love the idea of you.

Not the real you.

Allen had made peace with that.

Not perfectly. Not quietly. But he made peace in the only way he knew how—by staying in motion. If he stopped moving, he’d drown. That was the Goldborne truth. You keep walking. You keep winning. You make the silence your armor and the past your sharpening stone.

So, he moved.

Today, that ant the Cyber building. Allen had just stepped out of yet another marathon eting, suit slightly rumpled, tie loosened, the top button of his shirt undone. His hair was a little ssy from running his hand through it too many tis, and his jaw was tense from clenching during the last budget negotiation.

It had been a long damn day.

But the tournant was finally locked in.

The first ever officially sanctioned, cross-server, hybrid PvP event hosted by the ga devs and Goldborne’s esports division. Over eighty elite players, twelve brackets, three weeks of qualifiers, and one grand finale—where the top eight would et in person for the final showdown.

The registration was already closed. The hype train was running full speed. The forums were on fire. Allen could feel the buzz even through the polished walls of the building.

It was history in the making.

And he wasn’t just watching it.

He was it.

He stepped into the hallway, exhaled slow, and adjusted his sleeves.

Then a staff mber in a neat blazer walked up, tablet in hand, smiling like she wasn’t on hour nine of back-to-back admin work.

“Sir,” she said softly, “Miss Sterlinghart is waiting for you downstairs.”

Allen paused.

Mila.

He nodded, voice calm. “I’ll head down now.”

Miss Sterlinghart. That na still hit funny in his ears. Like it belonged in a boardroom more than his personal life. But then again, Mila was from the Sterlinghart family. Legacy tech empire. Longti rivals of Goldborne until recently. And yet… lately, things had shifted.

Their families weren’t exactly shaking hands yet, but the tension was lower. Cooler. Negotiable.

And maybe—just maybe—it had sothing to do with the way Allen and Mila had been spending ti together.

Nothing dramatic. No tabloids. Just quiet coffees, the occasional shopping date where their hands brushed a little too long.

It was subtle.

But it was there.

The elevator ride was fast. His reflection in the chro walls stared back—sharp eyes, calm face, devil just beneath the surface. The young master of Goldborne, trying to walk the line between corporate legacy and gar myth.

The doors slid open.

Mila stood near the front entrance, frad by the sunset bleeding through the glass.

She looked… warm.

Her hair was tied into a high ponytail, and she wore a sleeveless black top tucked into high-waisted cream trousers. Polished, classy, understated. Her earrings glinted gold. The light caught her lashes when she turned toward him, and her face lit up with that small, real smile—the one that wasn’t for show.

Allen walked over, slow, controlled. Like nothing was out of place. But when he reached her, he didn’t hesitate.

He hugged her.

One arm around her waist, the other lightly against her back. Not tight. Not possessive. But enough.

Mila leaned in without pause. Her perfu was soft. Sandalwood and rose. Familiar. She lingered a mont longer than necessary, her cheek close to his collar.

“Rough eting?” she murmured.

Allen pulled back slightly, lips twitching. “Long. But productive.”

“Good.” Her eyes searched his face. “You look tired.”

“I’m always tired.”

She gave him a mock-pout. “You need to sleep more.”

“You offering to help with that?”

Mila flushed—just a bit. “Maybe.”

Allen chuckled, the sound low in his throat. “You didn’t co here just to scold , did you?”

“No,” she said quickly. Then hesitated. “Well. Kind of.”

He raised a brow.

“I heard the tournant schedule’s finalized,” she said, voice softer now. “And the player list is being locked in.”

“It is.”

Her fingers brushed her wrist. A subtle, nervous tell.

“I wanted to say… good job,” she said. “Really. I know how much pressure you’ve been under lately. I’ve seen it. And I guess I just wanted to be here when it was done.”

Allen looked at her for a long second.

The way she stood, trying to look casual while her heart scread through every small gesture.

He didn’t know what this was between them.

Not yet.

But it wasn’t nothing.

“You’re here now,” he said.

Mila smiled. Not wide. But genuine.

“I thought maybe,” she said, glancing outside, “we could get dinner? My treat. Or maybe not dinner. Maybe sothing dumb and greasy. A burger. Fries. Sothing that doesn’t co with a tasting nu.”

Allen exhaled through his nose, amused. “You want to corrupt with carbs?”

“I want you to eat like a normal person. Just once.”

He pretended to consider. “Only if there’s ice cream.”

She lit up. “Deal.”

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