Villain MMORPG: Almighty Devil Emperor and His Seven Demonic Wives - Chapter 1572
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Chapter 1572: Not Fatherless (Magic Castle Bonus)
Villain Ch 1572. Not Fatherless (Magic Castle Bonus)
He walked forward and set the cake box down gently on the coffee table between them.
“I brought cake.”
Jordan finally glanced at the box, then at him. “Thank you. We’ll eat it with Emma later. She’s upstairs, right?”
Allen nodded, settling into the seat across from him. “Yeah. She’s working on that system integration test—the one with the simulated security breach scenario.”
Jordan’s mouth curved just slightly. “Let’s hope she breaks it and builds it back better. Nothing like real-world chaos to sharpen young minds.”
Silence settled for a few seconds. Not awkward. Just… thick.
Allen finally spoke again. “So… about Jason.”
Jordan set his cup down. “Ah.”
Allen glanced at him. “You really had those guys dig into him?”
Jordan’s tone didn’t shift at all. “Of course. The man’s a nuisance.”
Allen leaned back, his arms crossed. “I’m not surprised. Just… surprised you cared.”
Jordan looked at him. Not coldly. Not with pity. Just… firmly. “You’re my son, Allen. I care about anything that tries to dirty your name.”
Allen went quiet again. Then said, low, “You weren’t wrong. He blamed me. For everything. I’d breathe too loud, I was disruptive. I’d skip one class, I was a failure.”
Jordan leaned forward slightly. “Then I ask again: what do you want me to do with him?”
Allen met his eyes. Slowly.
This wasn’t a joke.
Jordan wasn’t just offering to dig into Jason.
He was asking permission to burn him down.
Allen didn’t answer right away.
Instead, he looked at the tea. At the cake. At the subtle lines of Jordan’s expression—the quiet way he offered destruction like a father might offer a jacket in the rain.
“…I don’t know,” Allen said finally. “Part of me wants to see him choke. Another part just… doesn’t want to think about him anymore.”
Jordan nodded once. “That’s fair. But think carefully. Because if he keeps pushing—if he tries to stain your name in public—I will respond.”
Allen exhaled slowly. “I know.”
Jordan sat back again, relaxed. “Good. Then for now, I’ll wait. No sudden moves.”
Allen gave him a small, tired smile. “You always like chess metaphors?”
Jordan returned it with a faint smirk. “I like winning.”
And Allen couldn’t deny it—
So did he.
The silence between them stretched a little, not heavy, but thoughtful.
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Allen leaned his forearms against his knees, fingers interlocked loosely, his gaze drifting to the untouched cake box between them.
Jordan studied him for a moment. Not invasive. Just… reading. Like he always did. That way of looking at someone and seeming to peel back all the layers without even trying. It wasn’t judgmental—it was clinical. Like a surgeon deciding where to cut.
Then his voice broke the quiet. Smooth. Direct.
“Are you afraid of me?”
Allen blinked.
He didn’t expect that.
Not from him.
He looked up slowly. Jordan’s expression hadn’t shifted at all—still relaxed, still sipping tea—but the question sat in the room like a loaded gun placed gently on the table.
It wasn’t a test. It wasn’t a trap.
He genuinely wanted to know.
Allen didn’t answer right away. He sat with it. Let the question roll through his chest like a slow-moving wave. Was he?
No.
Not the way he’d once feared Jason’s scorn. Or Carla’s silence.
Not the way he used to fear being wrong.
He shook his head quietly. “No.”
Jordan raised an eyebrow slightly. Waited.
Another beat passed.
“You sure?” Jordan asked. Calm, but with that subtle gravity he used when asking for the real answer. Not the easy one.
Allen exhaled slowly. “Yeah. I’m sure.”
He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees, fingers loosely clasped. “I don’t blame you for any of this, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
Jordan said nothing, but his gaze sharpened.
Allen kept going. “If I were you—if I had a kid, and someone tried to smear him, manipulate him, twist how people saw him?” He looked Jordan in the eyes. “I’d do the same thing.”
Then, after a breath, added with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “Maybe worse.”
Jordan’s laugh came out low and real—a deep, rumbling sound that seemed to settle into the walls of the room like warmth from a fire.
“Now that’s the kind of answer I like,” he said, setting his cup down with a soft clink.
Allen grinned. “Figured you would.”
Jordan leaned back a little, arms folding across his chest. “You’re starting to understand. The world doesn’t care about being ‘fair.’ You protect what’s yours. You move before the other side thinks to blink.”
Allen nodded slowly. “I’ve learned that. The hard way.”
Jordan’s eyes flicked to the cake box still sitting on the table. “You always fight back with words. Wit. Logic. Even kindness, sometimes. That’s your first language. Mine?” He smiled faintly. “Pressure.”
Allen let out a quiet laugh. “And here I thought mine was sarcasm.”
“Not sarcasm,” Jordan corrected. “Strategy disguised as humor.”
Allen tilted his head thoughtfully. “That’s dangerously accurate.”
Jordan picked up his teacup again, the porcelain catching the light. “So if one day you do have a kid…” he began, eyes gleaming with dry amusement, “remind me never to get on their bad side.”
Allen chuckled. “Only if you’re planning on betraying them.”
Jordan raised the cup in a slow mock toast. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
The air between them shifted—easier now. More grounded.
Allen didn’t say it out loud, but the thought settled firmly in the back of his mind…
This was what having a real father felt like.
Jordan wasn’t just present.
He saw him.
Protected him without asking.
Moved the world like a chessboard not because he had to— But because Allen mattered.
Yeah.
He might not have grown up with Jordan, but in this moment?
There was no question.
He was his father.
And just like that, the air eased. Not lighter, exactly—but settled. Like a storm cloud that had finished its thunder and now watched quietly from above, still capable of striking—but choosing not to.
Allen exhaled slowly.
For once, maybe…
He wasn’t just part of the storm.
He belonged in it.
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