Novel Full Chapter 1803: Don’t Panic
Chapter 1803: Don’t Panic
Villain Ch 1803. Don’t Panic
Azura’s heart was beating so loud, she swore the neighbors could hear it through the walls.
She sat at the edge of her bed, phone still glowing in her hand, Allen’s last message staring back at her like a flare she couldn’t look away from.
Allen: Can I come to your apartment?
She’d said no at first. Said she’d go to him. Safer that way. More polite. Less—
…dangerous.
But he’d texted back with a calm confidence that completely disarmed her.
Allen: Police already caught Sophia. It’s safe now. I want to see you.
So she said yes.
She told herself it wasn’t a big deal. It was just Allen. He was her cousin. Her crush. Her not-so-secret emotional disaster.
But this wasn’t before.
This was after.
After the stalker. After the kiss. After Allen spent the night at his girlfriend’s house.
And now?
Now he was coming here. To her apartment.
And she had no idea what to expect.
“Okay,” she mumbled to herself, tossing her phone onto the bed and heading to the mirror. “Okay, don’t panic. Be normal. Just be… normal.”
She grabbed her brush and ran it through her hair, dragging it a little too aggressively, like the bristles could brush the anxiety out of her scalp. Her fingers were slightly shaky. Her chest too tight.
She tried to focus on little things.
Brush strokes. One. Two. Three.
Adjusting her bangs. Tucking one side behind her ear.
Lip balm. Not lipstick. Just something soft. Casual.
Not a date. Not a statement.
She didn’t want to look too ready.
But not like she just rolled out of bed either.
Something in-between.
God, was there an outfit code for “maybe I want to kiss you again but I also might kick you out if you say the wrong thing?”
She padded barefoot into the kitchen and opened her tiny fridge. The cold light buzzed, casting a glow over absolutely uninspiring options.
She pulled out a bottle of soda. A jug of chilled tea. Bottled water. Safe things.
No alcohol. She didn’t trust herself.
A small snack tray—just biscuits and chips. Easy. Familiar.
She set everything on the coffee table in the living room. Her apartment wasn’t huge. A single couch, a floor rug, and a tall window that overlooked the city. It smelled faintly of lavender and electronics—her diffuser humming softly in the corner.
But everything was clean. Tidy. Ready.
Her body was not.
She paced once, twice, checked her reflection again, nearly tripped on the rug trying to go back into the bedroom, and then—
Her phone buzzed.
Her breath caught.
Allen: I’m in the lobby.
Azura stared at the screen.
Her fingers tapped out the response before her brain could catch up.
Azura: I’m coming.
She scrambled—grabbed her key, slipped on her flats, checked the mirror again, cursed, adjusted her shirt so it looked more “I’m chill” and less “I changed three times,” then bolted to the elevator.
Each ding as the elevator descended felt like her heartbeat keeping score.
1st floor.
Lobby.
The doors slid open.
And there he was.
Allen.
Leaning casually against the side of the glass entrance, his dark jacket open just enough to show a black V-neck shirt underneath. Tousled hair, as usual. Calm eyes. Cake box in one hand.
He looked too good to be real. Like someone had Photoshopped danger and charm together and gave it legs.
He looked up and smiled.
“For you.”
Azura blinked. “You brought cake?”
“I rescued cake,” he said, holding it out. “From the kitchen.”
“You… stole it?”
“Borrowed without paperwork,” he corrected. “Chef Michael’s been… sensitive lately. Ever since I brought that viral cake home last time, he’s been sniffing out off-brand desserts like a bloodhound.”
She laughed. She couldn’t help it.
Allen grinned.
She reached out, touched the edge of the cake box with one hand, and without thinking—grabbed his other.
“Let’s go,” she said softly.
He didn’t argue.
They took the elevator up in silence. The air between them was loaded, but not heavy. Not yet.
The moment they stepped into her apartment, Allen’s eyes scanned the place like he was taking inventory—like he noticed everything at once. The tea. The snacks. The carefully fluffed pillow.
Azura let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.
“I didn’t really prepare much,” she said, setting the cake down.
“It’s perfect,” he said.
He meant it.
She turned to face him, arms crossed more for defense than warmth. “So… what are we doing, Allen?”
He looked at her. Quiet. Unflinching.
“That’s up to you.”
Azura blinked. “That’s not fair.”
“It’s honest.”
She folded her arms tighter. “You’re not gonna pretend this is normal?”
“No,” he said simply.
She turned away, walked toward the window, her back to him. “Where were you last night? Which girlfriend’s bed did you crash in?”
“Shea’s.”
“Did you sleep with her?”
The question hit like a thrown knife. Not angry. Just… bare.
Allen didn’t answer right away.
Then—his voice low, even—”With them.”
Azura froze.
Then she turned around slowly, her lips parted, her brows drawn in quiet shock.
“…Them?”
Allen didn’t flinch. “All of them came to Shea’s mansion last night after they found out what happened. The moment they knew Sophia showed up, they rushed over.”
Azura blinked. Her voice faltered. “All of them?”
He nodded. “Shea, Jane, Vivian… even Alice. They didn’t even hesitate.”
Azura went quiet.
Not because she was angry.
But because she didn’t expect that.
She knew about the harem. Knew Allen was the kind of guy women fell for, fiercely and fast. But she didn’t realize how tightly they stuck together. How close they actually were.
She wrapped her arms around herself. “That’s… a lot of support.”
Allen’s smile was faint, wistful. “Yeah. They’re like that.”
“Did you…” she hesitated, staring at the window. “Did you sleep with one of them?”
He didn’t avoid it.
“I slept with all of them.”
Azura’s entire body stiffened. “W-what?!”
Allen chuckled softly—more amused at her reaction than teasing. “I mean sleep—on the same bed. Just… held each other. No sex.”