Villain MMORPG: Almighty Devil Emperor and His Seven Demonic Wives

Villain Ch 1555. Family…

Allen didn’t envy him for it.

But right now… he was grateful.

“…Alright,” Allen said quietly. “Then do what you need to.”

Jordan nodded. “I’ll handle it with care.”

“I know.”

Jordan stood, stretching a little, and walked toward the tall shelf beside the window. His movements were smooth, unhurried, as if this moment had been waiting for the right time to unfold. He reached up to one of the higher shelves and pulled down a small silver box, old but immaculately kept, its surface etched with delicate carving barely visible under the lamplight.

He opened it with a soft click, then turned and returned to the desk.

Allen watched quietly as Jordan held something out to him.

A ring.

Simple, yet unmistakably refined.

Polished obsidian with a band of deep gold running through the center—engraved with the Goldborne family crest. A serpent wrapped around a blade, its tongue forming the infinity loop.

Allen took it without question. The metal was cool in his palm, heavier than it looked.

An old family ring. One of the originals. The kind worn by Goldbornes when names still meant power, before corporations turned bloodlines into brand deals.

“This,” Jordan said, voice low, “is yours now.”

Allen stared at it for a second, then looked up. “This is…”

Jordan nodded. “It’s more than jewelry. It’s a mark. A declaration.”

Allen turned it slowly in his fingers, letting the crest catch the light.

“With this,” Jordan continued, “no one will question who you are. Not the media. Not the old families. Not the investors. Not even the bastards still living in the past.”

Allen’s eyes narrowed. “So it’s a warning?”

Jordan smiled faintly. “No. It’s recognition.”

He leaned forward slightly. “You’ve been acting like a Goldborne for a long time, Allen. You just didn’t wear the name. That changes now.”

Allen looked back at the ring. His reflection warped in the glossy obsidian. For a moment, he felt like a stranger to himself.

But then…

He slid the ring onto his finger.

And it fit.

Perfectly.

Jordan watched, then gave a short nod. “You wear it now, and the world will see what you do.”

Allen exhaled through his nose. “I thought I was already making enough noise.”

Jordan chuckled. “Sometimes… the quietest tools are the loudest.”

Allen gave a small smirk, gaze still on the ring. “Got it.”

And somehow, it felt heavier than a crown.

They stood there for another moment, the distance between them quieter than before. More… familiar.

Jordan stepped toward the door, opening it for him.

As Allen stepped out, Jordan said, “You did well tonight.”

Allen turned his head. “Dinner or existential excavation?”

Jordan smirked. “Both.”

Allen gave him a tired smile. “Good night, Dad.”

Jordan nodded. “Good night, Allen.”

And as the door shut behind him, Allen let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

And for the first time in a long while…

He didn’t feel like a mistake.

He felt like a Goldborne.

The hallway was quiet, the kind of deep nighttime silence that only old money could buy—lined with wall sconces glowing in warm amber, floors soft with thick carpet under bare feet, windows casting long shadows of moonlight through parted curtains.

Allen walked slowly. He wasn’t rushing.

His thumb occasionally brushed against the ring now sitting firmly on his index finger, the texture smooth and cool with a faint ridge over the crest. It grounded him. Reminded him this wasn’t a dream or some elaborate social game.

His other hand still gripped the silver box Jordan had given him. Light, but heavy with meaning. It was strange—how something so simple could make his chest feel less tight.

Was this what it felt like?

To belong somewhere?

To not have to fight to prove your existence?

Maybe that’s why the small things suddenly mattered more. The ring. The weight of his father’s words. The quiet promise that he didn’t have to carry everything alone.

And maybe… just maybe…

Now he understood where that Devil Emperor persona had come from. That bone-deep instinct to command. The calculated calm behind every brutal decision. It hadn’t just come from pain. It was bloodline. It was legacy.

It wasn’t weird anymore.

It wasn’t something to hide.

He unlocked his bedroom door and stepped in, greeted by soft dim light, the faint chill of air conditioning, and the clean scent of citrus-linen that the housekeepers always used.

He expected quiet.

What he didn’t expect—was a food trolley sitting near his bed.

Allen froze. Brows furrowed.

The silver cloche on top gleamed under the lamp like it was waiting to be dramatic. He hadn’t ordered anything. He was sure of it. Kai hadn’t mentioned any late-night snacks. And this wasn’t some gourmet plating.

Still gripping the box in one hand, Allen walked over and lifted the lid.

And blinked.

A chocolate mousse.

Or… what was supposed to be one. It had clearly suffered some battle during delivery. A bit lopsided, part of the whipped top smudged against the glass bowl’s rim. The chocolate wasn’t glossy like a pro kitchen’s, and one of the strawberries on top looked like it had been squished just a bit.

But it smelled good. Rich. Sweet. Homemade.

Not Kai’s.

Not the chef’s.

And tucked on the side, half folded beneath the edge of the plate, was a small note written in obnoxiously bright pink ink.

Allen carefully set the box on the nightstand, picked up the note, and unfolded it.

The handwriting was big. Slightly chaotic. Definitely Emma.

“I made this for you. Cheers up, brother. I know you won’t say it out loud, but I can tell you had a rough night. So shut up and eat it.”

Allen stared at the note for a moment.

His lips twitched.

Then he smiled.

That kind of small, soft, reluctant smile that only happens when he is caught off guard.

He looked down at the mousse again. It was ugly. Messy. Not remotely restaurant standard.

And he couldn’t remember the last time something looked so perfect.

He picked up the spoon resting beside it and sat on the edge of the bed.

The first bite was overly sweet. A little too much cocoa. But he didn’t care.

His chest ached in a different way now.

A warm one.

His eyes glazed over—not with pain. Not this time. But something gentler.

He looked at the ring again. Then at the mousse. Then at the note.

“I love you guys… Thank you for being my family.”