Villain MMORPG: Almighty Devil Emperor and His Seven Demonic Wives - Chapter 1508

Chapter 1508: Do I Have a Killer Aura?
Villain Ch 1508. Do I Have a Killer Aura?

Allen let the smirk fade, his eyes flicking to the door. “And I guess the reason we’re in this room is because he didn’t want Sophia to see us.”

Vivian’s expression shifted—her eyes narrowing slightly as she processed that. “That… actually makes a lot of sense. Her studio space is closer to Bell’s real office. Left wing.”

“So this room’s deliberately out of range,” Allen added.

“Which means,” Mila said softly, her tone just a little tighter, “there is a real problem with her.”

No one argued that. The room went quiet again.

Mila looked down at her lap, then back up. Her gaze found Allen’s, but this time she didn’t immediately speak. There was a faint blush dusting her cheeks. Subtle, but there.

Allen tilted his head. “If you want to say something, just say it.”

Mila blinked like he’d caught her red-handed. She quickly looked away, then back again—caught between nerves and something else.

“No, it’s just…” she hesitated. “You look different since the last time we met.”

Allen raised an eyebrow, still lounging back in the chair. “Different how?”

Mila twirled a strand of her hair around her finger absently, then shrugged. “Last time you looked like a proper heir—you know, classic Goldborne type. Polished. Untouchable. Now… you feel more approachable.”

Allen gave a soft chuckle. “Thanks. I think. I mean, this isn’t some formal sit-down, so I dressed down.”

“I’m not talking about your clothes,” Mila replied quickly, meeting his eyes again. “I mean, yeah, you’re not wearing the mafia suit this time—but it’s more than that. It’s your… aura, maybe?”

Allen laughed, a short one under his breath, like she’d just told him he was radiating magical energy. “Aura? Do I have, like, a killer aura now?”

Mila laughed too, shoulders relaxing. “Not like that. But… it’s different. You seem less guarded. Like you’re not carrying a chip on your shoulder anymore.”

He gave a half-smile, one brow arching. “Maybe I don’t need to have my full guard up in this meeting. Unlike the last event—it was all landmines. Media crawling everywhere.”

That made her blink. Her lips parted like she was about to say something else—but before she could, the door clicked open again.

Mr. Bell walked in.

He wasn’t flashy—no outlandish tie or loud accessories. Just clean, crisp tailoring, sleeves rolled to his elbows, silver chainwatch peeking out beneath his wrist. Slightly graying at the temples. Still sharp-eyed. Still ten steps ahead of most people in the room.

And definitely aware of the tension when he walked in.

“Apologies for the delay,” Mr. Bell said, voice smooth as ever. “But I appreciate all of you waiting.”

He didn’t waste time. Just walked to the front of the room, tossed a sleek tablet on the table, and tapped the screen.

The wall behind him came to life with a pop of glossy media. A video started playing—music swelling with that signature corporate-inspirational beat. Scenes flickered: slow-motion clips of tall, cold-eyed CEOs in black suits stepping out of limos. Power stares. Helicopter pads. High-rise windows with city lights blooming beneath them.

And the narration?

“The world of the powerful… where the coldest men hide the hottest secrets.”

Vivian blinked. “What the hell are we watching?”

Mila tilted her head. “Oh! I think I’ve seen this trailer—it’s that new CEO drama series, right? The one every girl’s obsessed with lately?”

The screen flashed again. ‘FALLING FOR MY BOSS: THE ALPHA CONTRACT’ – Streaming #1 across six platforms. Adaptation announced. Women in the comments section were losing their minds in scrolling text beneath.

Allen blinked once. Then twice.

Mr. Bell turned to them, motioning vaguely toward the screen. “This is what’s trending right now. Ruthless CEO archetypes. Cold male leads. Obsessed love interests. It’s absolutely dominating both digital and print platforms. Novel, movie, drama. A full-blown media movement.”

Vivian looked sideways at Allen, then back at Bell. “You’re not seriously suggesting…”

“Oh, I am,” Mr. Bell said, completely serious now. “Allen, you’re the real deal. You’re not playing a young master. You are one. The pedigree, the legacy, the look. You check all the boxes.”

Allen squinted at him. “You want me to cosplay as a sociopath with a private jet?”

“No,” Bell said, waving a hand. “I want you to model as yourself. But stylized. Just… lean into the trend. Control it. Ride the wave instead of letting it define you.”

“And us?” Vivian asked coolly.

Bell paused, lips twitching into something that might’ve been a smirk. “You two would appear in the shoot as… well. Interpretations of the current public fantasies. Stalkers. Obsessive lovers. Clingy contracts. It’s high fashion. Metaphorical.”

Vivian deadpanned. “So I’m a metaphor now.”

“I could be the girlfriend that never got over him,” Mila added cheerfully, then blinked. “Wait, that came out wrong—”

Allen didn’t say anything.

Not because he was overwhelmed by the offer. Not because he was trying to hide a laugh at the idea of being the face of a CEO harem power fantasy.

But because he was looking at Mr.Bell.

Really looking at him.

And the man looked… off.

The slick hair and sleek posture were still there, but the sweat was noticeable now. A faint sheen across his brow. His jaw was too tight. His fingers tapped twice too often against the desk.

He wasn’t just pitching a campaign.

He was trying to hold himself together.

Allen sat forward slightly.

“Before we go any further,” he said, voice low and even, “I want to ask something.”

Mr.Bell looked up.

Allen didn’t blink. “Are you okay?”

A pause. Long enough that even Mila stopped trying to read the presentation text behind him.

“You look panicked,” Allen continued. “Anxious. Like your entire career is balancing on this moment.”

Mr.Bell swallowed. “I… yes. A bit.”

Vivian leaned forward slightly too, sensing the shift.

“I’ll explain later,” Bell said quickly, brushing a hand through his hair. “You’re not wrong. This is business. But it’s also… more than that.”

“Then why not tell us now?” Allen asked.

“Because I need to keep this professional—for now,” Bell replied, forcing a thin smile. “But you know why I came to you. ‘She’ got drunk at the last event, kept calling your name. Said she wanted to make you beg—make you come back to her.”