Villain MMORPG: Almighty Devil Emperor and His Seven Demonic Wives - Chapter 1573

Chapter 1573: Betrayal by Sponge Texture
Villain Ch 1573. Betrayal by Sponge Texture

Allen stood, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeves more out of habit than anything else. The cake box was back in his hands, a little lighter now, no longer weighed down by memories of deadbeat contracts and half-choked childhoods.

Jordan watched him rise with that unreadable, calculating expression, but there was something softer there too. A flicker behind the eyes. Warm steel.

Allen shifted the box to one hand and gave a faint grin. “I’ll take this to the kitchen. Don’t want it to sit too long. Emma would probably cry if the chocolate starts to sweat.”

Jordan leaned back in his seat, sipping the last of his tea. “Good.”

Allen had turned halfway toward the door when Jordan added, “And Allen?”

He paused. Looked back.

Jordan’s tone stayed calm, but there was weight behind every word. “You’re not alone. Don’t forget that.”

Allen blinked, surprised by the sudden seriousness.

Jordan continued, voice steady. “You’re a Goldborne now. That means something. It’s not just a name. It’s a sword. You may not like to use it, but it’s there for a reason.”

Allen frowned slightly, shifting the box in his hands again.

Jordan went on. “I know you’re careful. And that’s fine. Wise, even. But there are times when care turns into caution, and caution becomes hesitation. You don’t have to fight like you’re still on your own.”

Allen said nothing for a moment. Then he nodded. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

Jordan gave him the smallest nod in return. “Good.”

Allen left the room with that same quiet calm he entered with—but his head was higher now. His back straighter.

Yeah. He’d keep it in mind.

The hallway leading to the kitchen smelled faintly of citrus cleaner and warm wood polish. The marble floor was freshly mopped and the soft hum of distant opera music drifted in from the kitchen speakers.

Allen stepped through the archway, and sure enough…

“Kai?”

The man turned from the sink, drying his hands with a cloth, his usual dark button-up perfectly wrinkle-free. “Oh. Master Allen.”

Allen winced. “Still with the ‘Master’ thing?”

“You keep ignoring it,” Kai replied dryly, “so yes. It amuses me.”

Allen chuckled and set the cake box gently on the counter. “Here. Cake. For later—me, Dad, and Emma.”

Kai raised an eyebrow, already walking over and peeling the lid open with a flourish like he was unboxing some ancient relic. “Chocolate?”

“Yeah.” Allen crossed his arms, watching. “From that viral shop near the university district. I figured we’d try it.”

“Mmm,” Kai said with a nod. “The one with the insane pre-order queue and limited quantity drama every week? Impressive. You must’ve bribed someone.”

“I waited in line like a normal person.”

Kai looked genuinely disturbed. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

Allen snorted. “Thanks.”

But the good humor lasted all of five seconds.

Because the temperature in the room dropped three degrees.

A shadow moved behind Kai.

And Allen felt it.

The oppressive culinary aura.

The silent rage of a perfectionist wronged.

He turned.

And there he was.

Chef Michael.

Towering. Apron dusted with flour. Holding a sharpened blade in one hand and a lemon zester in the other like a man who had just prepared a five-course meal and sensed betrayal from two rooms away.

Allen raised both hands like someone about to negotiate a hostage situation.

“Okay. Before you say anything. It’s just a cake. Just a casual, viral, overhyped cake.”

Michael’s eyes narrowed. “You bought dessert?”

“It’s not even a dessert dessert,” Allen said quickly. “It’s more of a… mood enhancer? A conversation piece? A symbolic bonding item for post-lunch tea?”

“You bought dessert.”

Allen nodded slowly. “I bought dessert.”

Kai took a step back. Probably for safety.

Michael’s voice dropped half an octave. “After I spent all morning making ganache truffles, tiramisu shots, and artisanal nut clusters for your lunch tray—you brought cake into my kitchen?”

Allen cleared his throat. “Technically it’s on your counter. But the kitchen belongs to Goldborne.”

Michael tilted his head. “Are you mocking me?”

Allen hesitated. “I’d say ninety-seven percent no.”

The silence was visceral.

Allen sighed. “Chef. It’s just a backup cake. Emergency cake. You know how Emma gets if lunch gets emotional.”

Michael looked at him like he could see through time. “And what exactly are you anticipating at this lunch? A duel? A confession? A funeral?”

Allen glanced toward the hallway. “All of the above are possible. Emma is having an online test right now.”

Michael grunted, like that answer made complete sense. Then he stalked forward, leaned in, and sniffed the cake.

“…Viral shop. I knew it,” he muttered.

Kai spoke up carefully. “Sir, shall I refrigerate it?”

Michael exhaled through his nose. “No. Leave it out. Let the air get to it. Let it know shame.”

Allen coughed into his fist to keep from laughing. “It’s just a cake, Chef. Don’t be mad.”

Michael turned and pointed the zester at him. “You think it’s just a cake. But one day, you’ll betray me with a frozen soufflé and I’ll never recover.”

“I promise never to cheat on your soufflés.”

Michael grunted again and walked away, muttering about “betrayal by sponge texture” as he returned to his chopping station, knife flashing with a bit more emotion than necessary as he resumed dicing herbs.

Kai looked at Allen with wide eyes. “I think you got off easy.”

Allen dragged a hand down his face. “I never get off easy.”

Kai leaned in slightly, voice low like they were conspiring in enemy territory. “Chef Michael has a lot of pride in his cooking. Like… Michelin-level pride. Anything store-bought that crosses that threshold?” He gestured vaguely around the kitchen. “Immediate offense.”

Allen raised an eyebrow. “The last time I brought something, he didn’t react like this.”

Kai nodded. “Because the last time, you only brought eclairs. Tiny, dainty little things. He called them ‘snacks for indecisive fairies.'”

Allen blinked. “He did say that.”

“Exactly,” Kai said, lifting a hand. “You bring a whole cake into his kitchen? From a viral place no less? That’s not a treat. That’s a challenge.”

Allen looked at the now-doomed chocolate cake on the counter, then at the still-bristling chef muttering to a head of rosemary like it had betrayed him personally.

“…Understandable,” Allen muttered. “Well. I’ll leave this to you then.”

Kai raised an eyebrow. “Me?”

“You’re the diplomat.”

“I’m your assistant.”

“And now you’re promoted to cake liaison.”

Kai sighed dramatically but pulled the box closer. “I will try my best.”

Allen grinned as he turned to leave. “Good luck.”