Villain MMORPG: Almighty Devil Emperor and His Seven Demonic Wives - Chapter 1550

Chapter 1550: I’m Not a Mistake
Villain Ch 1550. I’m Not a Mistake

Allen gave her a slow nod. “Well, you’ll fit right into the Crypts.”

Emma’s eyes lit up.

Jordan exhaled like a man who’d just handed a grenade to a chimp.

Kai stepped forward. “Would sir or madam like dessert?”

Emma raised her hand instantly. “Yes. If it doesn’t foam.”

Allen grunted. “Seconded.”

Jordan waved his hand dismissively. “Something with chocolate, Kai.”

“Understood.” Kai bowed and turned toward the kitchen, already barking quiet, efficient orders to the staff.

Allen caught a glimpse of a flaming saucepan in the back as one chef started caramelizing something that definitely looked fancier than it needed to be. The scent of cocoa, burnt sugar, and cream started to sneak into the air like an invisible thief, warming the edges of the room.

Allen’s eyes followed Kai, then drifted back to Emma who was already leaning back in her chair like a smug cat. Then to Jordan.

“You also like chocolate?” he asked, tone casual, but with a small tilt of curiosity.

Emma blinked at him like the question itself was suspicious. “Everyone likes chocolate.”

Jordan, still scrolling something on his tablet, spoke without looking up. “Yes. Why?”

Allen shrugged. “No reason.”

It was a lie. A small one. A quiet realization just slipped past his defenses—he didn’t know much about Jordan’s favorites. What kind of music he liked. Whether he hated olives. If he preferred dogs or cats. Stupid things, maybe. But things people usually knew about their dad.

And Jordan? Jordan always knew everything about him. At least, he was learning.

But Allen didn’t even know if Jordan had a sweet tooth.

How the hell did that even happen?

His mouth opened to say something more. Just to try. Maybe bridge a little gap across the years they spent living like ghosts in each other’s shadow.

But that was when the sound came.

Not a ringtone, exactly. His phone was always on silent. Just a tiny buzz across the table. Barely there. A missed call.

Allen frowned. Slowly picked it up.

He wasn’t a phone call guy. His girls didn’t call. Friends? Mostly used DMs or pings. The only ones who ever used his actual phone number were official institutions or Gerry, who just somehow acted like an overly sensitive girl in period or…

No.

The contact name on the screen made Allen’s breath catch for half a second.

“Do Not Pick Up.”

The profile picture was blank. No photo. No soul. Yeah. It was from his step dad. He named him that.

He tapped the message anyway.

Do Not Pick Up: Did you just call Carla? I told you to never call her again! Now she’s crying, how long are you going to hurt her, asshole?!

Allen’s fingers went still. The screen’s light bathed his face in cold white as the room’s warmth blurred at the edges.

He hadn’t called her.

She’d called him.

He didn’t answer right away.

Didn’t look up.

Didn’t breathe.

Just stared at the words.

Emma glanced over. “Hey, you okay?”

Allen didn’t answer.

Another message arrived.

Do Not Pick Up: You are a mistake, Allen. Don’t you ever forget that.

The words didn’t shout. They didn’t need to. That was the kind of sentence that slid under armor like a whisper and twisted the blade before he even bled.

Allen’s hand tightened around the phone.

The air seemed to grow heavier around him. The sounds of clinking cutlery and Kai’s return from the kitchen faded into white noise. He could still smell chocolate and fire and whipped cream—but none of it registered anymore.

Emma was still looking at him, confused.

Jordan noticed next. His eyes sharpened.

Allen’s voice came low, rough. “Excuse me.”

He stood. His chair slid back across the polished floor with a sharp scrape.

Jordan raised a hand. “Allen—?”

“I’ll be right back,” Allen muttered, already walking.

He didn’t storm. Didn’t slam anything. That wasn’t his style.

No, this was worse. He walked like a man trying to keep his shadow from leaking rage onto the carpet.

He passed the giant fish tank wall, the one with the glowing coral and neon tetras that Emma insisted they keep “for vibes,” and ducked into the hallway. It was quieter here. Dimmer. Walls lined with framed photos that didn’t include him.

He leaned against the wall. Let the silence wrap around him for a second.

Then he opened the message again.

Read it. Felt it. Let it burn.

And typed.

Allen: You always blamed me for her crying. For her breakdowns. For everything. But I was a kid. And you were the adult.

He hesitated. Then typed more.

Allen: I left cause I know she doesn’t want me. But I survived. And guess what? I’m not a mistake. I’m something you didn’t expect.

He sent it.

Then immediately muted the contact.

Then blocked it. He was tired of dealing with him and knew his stepdad’s character was, yet somehow, he could act nice around his mom and Evan

Allen stared at the wall. Just breathing.

His heart thudded once. Then again. Not fast. Just heavy.

Footsteps approached. Soft. Familiar.

Emma.

He didn’t turn.

She stood beside him. Close. Not too close.

“Was it your mom?” she asked.

Allen shook his head. “My stepdad.”

“I figured. You had that look.”

“What look?”

“The I-want-to-melt-the-world-but-quietly look.”

Allen huffed a weak breath. “Right. Classic.”

She was silent for a moment. Then, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

Another pause.

“You know… you’re not alone, right?”

Allen finally turned to look at her. Her expression was softer than usual. No snark. Just a quiet, stubborn little sister who never really understood the depth of his scars, but felt them anyway.

“I know,” he said.

She nodded. “Good. Because if you ever turn into an edgy lone-wolf type, I swear I’m dressing up as a sparkle unicorn and raiding your dungeon with bubble wands.”

That got a smile. Barely. But it counted.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Emma leaned against the wall beside him. “Wanna go back?”

He hesitated. Then nodded. “Yeah.”

They walked together.

The hallway lights glowed soft gold, guiding them back toward the dining room like nothing had ever happened. The smell of chocolate hit them again. Familiar. Sweet. Grounding.

As they entered, Jordan glanced up, his gaze meeting Allen’s with a flicker of something unreadable.

Allen gave a small nod. A silent ‘it’s handled.’