Chapter 1957: Villain Arc
Chapter 1957: Villain Arc
Villain Ch 1957. Villain Arc
“Don’t say something like that when I drink,” Emma said, coughing once and smacking her chest. “What if I choked and died?”
“You won’t die,” Allen replied without looking up from his phone.
“Rude,” she muttered, wiping her mouth with the hem of her sleeve. “This is why your PR arc’s all tragic villain and not sweet cinnamon roll redemption.”
“That’s a good thing,” Allen mumbled.
Just then, a calm click echoed from the stairs. Allen glanced up and saw polished dress shoes descending step by step. Jordan Goldborne, dressed in his usual fitted slacks and crisp white shirt, no tie, sleeves rolled halfway to his forearms like he was between negotiations and dinner, walked into the room with a warm, precise smile.
“Oh, Allen,” Jordan said, voice smooth with quiet power, “you’re here already.”
Allen stood, awkward in his sweatpants and tank top, phone still in hand. “I’m home, Dad.”
Jordan looked… beamed. Like the kind of glow a dad should have after hearing his son graduated or finally got a girlfriend. Allen narrowed his eyes immediately. Something was off.
“You look way too pleased,” Allen said slowly. “Something happen?”
Jordan just smirked as he sat down at the end of the long dining table. He reached for the little brass bell on the runner and gave it a single ring. Not too loud. Just enough to summon Kai or one of the other phantomlike servants who somehow always knew when to appear without making a sound.
Allen slid back into his chair across from Emma, who had her chin propped on one hand now, studying their father like he was about to sell them stocks again.
“Yes,” Jordan finally answered, glancing toward the entrance as footsteps approached. “I believe Emma already told you about the viral videos, right?”
Allen groaned. “Yeah. She showed me.”
Jordan, unfazed, continued like a boardroom executive dropping quarterly profits. “Our PR team said the response has been excellent. For your reputation. The way some of those videos were cut? They created a surprisingly compelling arc.”
Allen blinked. “An arc.”
Jordan nodded. “Yes. You—Allen Goldborne—the once broken gamer. The boy who was betrayed by his teammates. By his girlfriend. Who walked away from it all. Hid. Disappeared. And now?”
He gestured around the dining hall.
“You rise,” he said simply. “As a Goldborne. As a young master. The prodigal son.”
Emma made a face like she just swallowed a lemon. “Ugh… That’s literally what happened though. That’s not PR spin. That’s just trauma with a budget.”
Jordan gave her a half-smile. “Exactly. It’s real. And that’s why it sells.”
Allen exhaled slowly. His tea had gone cold, untouched. “So what, you’re selling my trauma now?”
“No,” Jordan said, folding his hands calmly, “I’m not selling anything. But the public is hungry for stories. And if they want to eat? Let them eat what’s true.”
Emma raised her cup like a toast. “You’re a full-course sob story with abs.”
Allen smacked her arm lightly. “Shut up.”
She giggled and sipped again.
Jordan leaned forward, eyes locked on Allen’s. “Public opinion is shifting. Those clips? They’ve started a new narrative. One we didn’t even plan.”
Allen looked at him, unsure where this was going. “And that is?”
“That you have every right,” Jordan said, “to be the villain.”
Allen blinked again.
Jordan’s voice softened, but the weight of it landed anyway.
“After everything,” he said, “any normal person would have broken. Quit. Disappeared forever. But you came back. You didn’t just survive—you came back stronger. Harder. Colder. And yet, still smart enough to hold back when you needed to.”
Allen’s throat went dry. He didn’t like being analyzed. Dissected. Even if it came from his father.
“So you’re saying what,” he said, “people… like me more now?”
Jordan smiled, like the numbers were already in. “Some fear you. Some admire you. But the majority?”
He paused.
“They understand you.”
Emma blinked. “Nice.”
Jordan turned to her. “Public empathy is rare. But when it strikes, it shifts markets.”
Allen snorted. “Markets?”
Jordan tilted his head slightly. “This story arc—the rise of Allen Goldborne—it won’t just help the family name. It strengthens our company image. The game. Hell’s Gate.”
Allen’s back stiffened. “Wait. You’re saying…”
“Yes,” Jordan said, tone absolute now. “This is the gateway. The setup before the reveal. The tournament.” He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled. “That you,” he said, “are the Devil Emperor.”
Silence.
Allen stared at him like he’d just casually suggested sacrificing a unicorn to summon a Dragon King.
“The player behind the Devil Emperor,” Jordan said slowly, “is you. Not an AI.”
Emma smirked. “Wait. You’re going to tell the public that Allen is… Azazel? For real?”
Jordan nodded. “Eventually, yes. Not immediately. We let the story simmer. The villain backstory settles. Then the twist comes.”
Emma blinked. “Like a drama.”
“Exactly,” Jordan said. “But with blood and swords.”
Allen leaned back in his chair, lips slowly curling into a grin. Not fake. Not awkward. That sharp, slightly feral kind of grin that hadn’t seen daylight in a while. His fingers tapped the table beside his plate, eyes gleaming.
“You’re serious,” he said, voice low, amused. “I like this…”
Jordan didn’t look up. “I never joke when it comes to power.”
Emma sipped her tea and smirked behind the rim. “Told you. He’s been planning this.”
Allen chuckled. “We really are all insane.”
Jordan glanced up with a calm nod. “We’re Goldbornes.”
That one line. That one name. It carried something heavy. Not just pride. Legacy. Reputation. Ruthlessness.
And all three of them wore it like second skin.
Allen rested his elbow on the armrest, knuckles supporting his cheek as he smirked toward his sister. “You knew all this time, huh?”
She hummed, twirling her spoon like a wand. “The second those clips dropped. The way Liam and Darren tried to sound pitiful? Please. PR gold. I could see Dad’s plan.”
“And Sophia?” Allen raised an eyebrow.
“She wanted attention,” Jordan said, finally putting down his utensils. “And she got it. Unfortunately for her, it wasn’t the kind she could control. So we could do something about that too…”
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