Villain MMORPG: Almighty Devil Emperor and His Seven Demonic Wives - Chapter 1575

Chapter 1575: The Servant Who Swept The Floor Now Owns The Keys [Part 1]
Villain Ch 1575. The Servant Who Swept The Floor Now Owns The Keys [Part 1]

The clock showed 02:51 PM.

Darren checked his phone again for the third time in under two minutes.

“Still early,” he muttered, eyes flicking to the top of the screen.

Liam adjusted the collar of his jacket, exhaling. “Barely. Eight minutes isn’t early. It’s professional.”

“Professional is five minutes early,” Darren said. “This is desperation.”

“Fair.”

They both stood in the sleek elevator of a high-rise that looked like it had never seen a single smudge or fingerprint. The lobby alone had marble that probably cost more than Liam’s entire apartment. The scent of eucalyptus and citrus—classy, clean, expensive. Definitely the kind of place where the staff didn’t speak unless spoken to.

And this was where they were meeting him.

Mr. Bell.

Whoever the hell that actually was.

All they knew was one thing: this guy was important. High-ranking, probably rich, and the only person who might help them finally get Sophia off their backs.

Before this, James and Noah had already told them they could help—specifically by connecting them with a lawyer. Someone sharp. Someone discreet. Someone who wouldn’t flinch at the kind of mess Sophia had left behind.

But the problem was, well… lawyers weren’t cheap.

And Liam and Darren?

They didn’t have that kind of money.

Every time the topic came up, it left a pit in their stomachs. They wanted to fight back—God, they needed to—but hiring legal help just to survive the fallout of someone else’s manipulation? That felt like trying to win a war with a toothpick and a hope.

So when Mr. Bell reached out—quiet, direct, and without any grand theatrics—it felt like the first sliver of air after being buried alive.

They didn’t know what he was offering.

But they knew one thing for sure….

They couldn’t afford to walk away from it.

Liam glanced down at his office ID, still clipped to his pocket. Darren had one too, a bit wrinkled from the rush earlier.

“I said I had to leave work early to check on my sick dog,” Darren muttered.

Liam huffed. “I told them I going to visiti my grandma.”

“You don’t have a grandma.”

“They don’t know that.”

– Ding!

The elevator doors opened smoothly onto the eighth floor, revealing a sunlit corridor lined with glass office fronts and tastefully designed lounges. The floors were polished wood, the kind that made you walk quieter without realizing it. Everything smelled like wealth. Not the loud kind—no gold logos or fake glam—but the quiet, real kind. The kind that didn’t need to prove itself.

They walked in silence, side by side, adjusting their pace like nervous freshmen heading into the principal’s office.

Ahead was the café.

Nimbus.

A modern, boutique-style space tucked into the corner of the floor like it was made to be hidden from the public. Earth-toned walls, velvet seating, soft jazz playing low through ceiling speakers.

They hesitated at the threshold.

“This it?” Darren asked, though he already knew.

Liam nodded slowly. “Yeah. Nimbus.”

They stepped up to the sleek podium at the entrance where a host, all clean-cut in black, greeted them with a polite smile.

“Welcome. Do you have a reservation?”

“Uh, yeah,” Liam said quickly. “We’re here to meet someone. Mr. Bell?”

The host blinked, then checked a slim tablet on the counter.

Both men stood stiff, anxiety creeping higher.

They weren’t supposed to be early. The plan was to get here exactly at three. Not sooner. What if that was rude? What if he wasn’t here yet and this turned awkward?

But the host looked up and smiled. “Yes. He’s already arrived. Right this way.”

Darren and Liam exchanged a quick glance.

“He’s early?” Darren whispered.

Liam whispered back, “Or punctual as hell.”

The host led them past a few low tables, each elegantly spaced, each occupied by people who spoke softly and didn’t seem to notice anything outside their own air of importance.

And then—

At the farthest booth, a corner one with soft leather seats and a perfect view of the city skyline through the floor-to-ceiling windows—sat a man.

Dark gray suit. No tie. Gold cufflinks that weren’t too flashy, just perfect. A wristwatch that probably cost more than both of their cars.

He wasn’t looking at them.

He was scrolling a tablet. Calm. Completely unbothered.

“Here we are,” the host said. “Mr. Bell, your guests have arrived.”

Mr. Bell looked up.

And smiled.

Not warm. Not cold.

Just… controlled. Like everything about him.

“Darren. Liam.”

They blinked.

“Uh. Yeah,” Darren said. “That’s us.”

Mr. Bell gestured to the seats across from him. “Please. Sit.”

They did. Quickly.

The table was already set with water. No food yet. No drinks.

Mr. Bell locked the tablet and placed it aside. He laced his fingers together. “I appreciate you coming. I know this was short notice.”

Liam cleared his throat. “It’s fine. Thank you for… you know. Taking the time.”

Mr. Bell studied them for a moment. His gaze didn’t feel like it lingered long, but somehow it felt like he’d already read through their tax records and childhood traumas.

“I understand the situation you’re in is… complicated,” he said.

Understatement of the year.

Darren leaned forward slightly. “Look, we didn’t come here to beg. We just want her to stop. That’s all. No revenge. No drama. Just—”

“Freedom,” Liam finished.

Mr. Bell nodded once. “I’m aware of what she’s done.”

That alone made them both stiffen.

He knew?

He didn’t even look disgusted or shocked. Just resigned. Like someone who’d seen the slow fire spread across the walls and was calmly measuring how much water to use.

“You’re not the first,” he added.

That chilled them both.

Mr. Bell leaned back. “The truth is, Sophia has been… exploiting people for some time. In different ways. I’ve covered for her. Protected her. Enabled her, even, for reasons I thought were necessary.”

He looked out the window for a beat.

“But now? I find myself at a point where I’m ready to stop.”

Darren’s voice came out rough. “You’re saying you’ll help us?”

“I already have.”