Villain MMORPG: Almighty Devil Emperor and His Seven Demonic Wives - Chapter 1559

Chapter 1559: Happy Puppy Mode
Villain Ch 1559. Happy Puppy Mode

“Yeah, yeah. Keep pressing your dumbbells, Goldborne,” Gerry muttered, dropping into a full-body stretch beside the bench. “Let me warm up before your new energy makes me feel like an old man.”

Allen returned to his set with a soft grunt, resetting his grip. The dumbbells rose and fell in smooth, clean reps—no hesitation, no distraction. It wasn’t just good form. It was intentional. Controlled. Sharp.

But what caught Gerry off guard wasn’t the weights. Or the rhythm. Or even the focus.

It was Allen’s face.

He was smiling. Like… really smiling. That kind of lazy, content, almost smug grin that people wear when the world finally stops punching them in the gut.

And for Allen, that was weird.

Not because his face didn’t suit it—hell, Allen had always had that model-in-a-black-leather-jacket kind of look. Bad-boy energy with a ‘don’t-talk-to-me’ aura that made half the gym afraid to make eye contact unless he initiated.

But today?

That aura was cracked open. Like a storm had passed and left clear skies behind.

Gerry leaned back into a hamstring stretch, not hiding the way he stared.

Allen was in a zone. Focused. Confident. But different.

Less walls.

More peace.

‘Is this what it looks like when someone feels… protected?’ Gerry wondered, blinking.

Because that was the word, wasn’t it? Protected. Not cocky. Not dangerous. Not guarded.

Allen didn’t look like a guy ready to snap someone’s wrist anymore. He looked like a guy who knew—without a shadow of a doubt—that he didn’t have to fight today. That someone had his back.

And that someone was Jordan Goldborne. The man himself.

Gerry couldn’t even imagine how scary Jordan must be when he was actually angry. If Allen inherited even half of that ‘I-will-burn-you-politely’ energy, then yeah—no wonder the rest of Allen’s old family probably slept with one eye open now.

But that wasn’t the real problem.

No.

The real problem was that Allen’s usual doberman-don’t-touch-me energy was gone.

And in its place?

Was this Allen.

Relaxed. Smiling. Happy puppy mode unlocked.

And oh no—the gym girls had noticed.

Gerry didn’t even need to turn his head. He felt the eyes. Like heat-seeking missiles. Like gossip-hungry sharks circling a bleeding snack.

One look confirmed it.

Yup. There they were. A cluster by the treadmills, two by the free weights, one by the gymnastics bar—some pretending to stretch, some pretending not to look.

Every single one of them locked in on Allen like he was a limited-edition gym boyfriend going out of stock.

And Allen, blissfully unaware, just racked his dumbbells and grabbed his towel to wipe off.

Gerry blinked. ‘Oh god.’

He wasn’t Allen Goldborne right now. He was “Adorable Post-Redemption Arc Allen.” The one girls didn’t just want to date—they wanted to adopt.

Hell, if someone offered to take him home and lock him in their basement for cuddles and protein shakes, Gerry wouldn’t be surprised.

He watched a girl on the elliptical almost trip trying to sneak a picture.

“Oh, no,” Gerry muttered.

Allen, still catching his breath, looked over. “What?”

“You’ve become dangerous,” Gerry said flatly, standing up and brushing imaginary dust off his shorts.

Allen raised an eyebrow, grabbing a sip of water. “You say that like I wasn’t before.”

“Yeah, but it used to be the kind of danger that made people cross the street.” Gerry gestured to the wide-eyed girl near the kettlebells pretending her phone wasn’t pointed right at them. “Now it’s like… ‘I wanna lock this man in my room and feed him brownies’ danger.”

Allen frowned. “That sounds oddly specific.”

“It is,” Gerry said. “I saw it in her eyes.”

Allen laughed, stretching his shoulders. “You’re insane.”

“No,” Gerry said. “I’m serious. You’ve gone from ‘bad boy I want to fix’ to ‘ golden retriever I want to kidnap’.”

Allen froze mid-laugh, blinking. “Golden retriever?”

Gerry nodded sagely, as if he were delivering ancient truth passed down by gym prophets. “Yup. Soft smile. Tragic backstory. Big family name. Sexy and sad but now happy? Dude. You’re a walking fantasy trope right now.”

Allen narrowed his eyes. “Wait, how the hell did I suddenly become a dog?”

Gerry didn’t even flinch. “You’re not just any dog. You’re the dog. The goodest boy. The kind that girls look at and go, ‘He just needs love and cuddles and maybe a leash.'”

Allen gagged. “Okay, ew. Stop right there.”

Gerry shrugged, still grinning. “Look, I’m just the messenger. I’m telling you what your aura is giving today.”

“My aura?” Allen repeated flatly.

“Yup. You’ve got that ‘would-protect-me-from-burglars-but-also-accidentally-eat-my-snacks-and-apologize-with-a-puppy-face’ energy. It’s dangerous, bro.”

Allen leaned on the barbell, deadpanning. “So just because I smile once, I’m suddenly someone’s emotional support animal?”

Gerry snapped his fingers. “Exactly! That’s the vibe! And these girls? They’re ready to enroll you in cuddle therapy and bake cookies with your name on them.”

Allen groaned. “Kill me.”

Gerry clapped him on the back. “Too late. You’re already someone’s romance story.”

Allen just laughed again, shaking his head. “Well, tough luck.”

“I can feel it.” Gerry pointed. “They’ve already planned your wedding in their group chat. Probably picking out the cage—uh, I mean cottage—for you.”

Allen rolled his eyes and grabbed the barbell for their next set. “Then I guess I better get stronger. If I’m gonna be kidnapped, I’m at least fighting my way out.”

Gerry grinned, stepping up beside him. “That’s the spirit. Let’s get jacked and mysterious.”

As they started the next set, Allen glanced toward the mirror.

And yeah, maybe Gerry was right.

There were more eyes than usual. More smiles aimed in his direction. A few bashful waves from familiar faces he hadn’t talked to in months.

Allen caught it all—and tried to ignore it.

Tried.

He pushed through another set of cable flys, exhaling slow, form tight, chest burning. But when he racked the handles and looked up, it was like the gym had turned into a subtle thirst trap arena.

That girl by the squat rack?

Definitely wasn’t doing that much back arch last time.

And the other one by the dumbbells?

She bent over for her water bottle like it was her audition for a yoga influencer reel. Her shorts hiked just high enough to whisper “look at me”, and when she stood up, she gave him a quick glance under thick lashes. Full eye contact. Like “oops, caught me stretching.”