Villain MMORPG: Almighty Devil Emperor and His Seven Demonic Wives

Villain Ch 1665. Imagination is a War Crime…

The soft click of the hallway door shut behind him as he stepped into his private suite— quiet, minimal lighting. This time, the scent of dark cedarwood lingered faintly in the air.

He shrugged off his coat, tossing it lazily across the nearby chair. His sunglasses followed, landing perfectly on top of a mini table.

He rubbed the back of his neck with a low sigh and muttered under his breath, “Emma’s imagination is a war crime…”

Seriously. That girl had no brakes. Cow girl? Balcony sneaking? Impregnation tactics?

“…Hah. Not even I think like that.”

A beat passed.

“…Okay. Maybe sometimes.”

Allen rubbed his temple.

Unfortunately, his brain had already gone there.

Mila.

The image of her flashed in his head without warning — long blonde hair, that soft shy look when she got flustered, and, yeah…

Big.

Boobies.

Allen stopped mid-step, just standing there for a second like his soul disconnected.

“Dammit.”

He moved again, grabbing a chilled bottle of water and downing it like holy water wouldn’t be enough to cleanse him. But of course, that wasn’t enough. Nope. His imagination, traitorous thing, decided to turn it up a notch.

‘What if… I was stuck between hers?

…No. Wait. Better. Between Mila’s and Vivian’s.’

Two of them. Soft, warm, heavy… closing in on both sides…

Allen choked on the last sip of water, coughing like someone just cast internal combustion on his lungs. He slapped his chest once, hard. “Nope. Nope. NOPE.”

He marched straight to the bathroom like a man on a holy quest. Time to shower. Reset the brain. Maybe dunk his head in ice.

The water hissed to life, warm steam rolling over the sleek black tiles. Allen tossed his shirt aside, still muttering, “Between Mila and Vivian… what the hell is wrong with me…”

He stepped into the stream, letting the heat rush over his skin. Muscles relaxed. Mind didn’t. Because now his brain was just adding dialogue.

“Do you like it, Allen~”

“Mmm… Mine are bigger, right~?”

“Goddammit!” He slapped the shower wall.

By the time he got out and towel-dried his hair, his body was cool, but his mind still felt like it needed a reboot. He pulled on a fresh black V-neck and sweatpants, then reached for the VR headset.

He placed the device over his head, leaning back in the chair.

One breath in.

[Logging into Hell’s Gate…]

The world snapped.

In a single heartbeat, Allen felt his body stretch and twist and solidify again inside the throne hall of Cursed Crypts.

His boots clicked softly on the blackened stone floor as he stepped forward, cape dragging faint embers. The throne room stood silent and empty — or so he thought.

His voice echoed lightly as he muttered, “Alright… let’s—”

“Well, well, well…” a voice purred from the shadows like a spell laced with lipstick.

He turned — and there she was.

Alice.

She stepped from behind the throne like she’d always been there. Her robes shimmered, cut scandalously down the center like modesty had been a forgotten concept. Her long hair spilled over her shoulders, and her fingers trailed along her hip as she moved.

“Look who finally decided to log in.” She smiled, lips curling with that classic mix of mockery and seduction. “I was beginning to think you died in the mortal realm~” she teased, completely in her role.

“Thought about it,” Allen muttered, stepping toward the throne. “Then remembered I left you in charge, so I had to survive.”

Alice grinned like a predator. “Flatter me more, Allen.”

But before he could respond, a gentle jingling sound filled the air.

And then came the voice, syrup-sweet and full of teasing warmth.

“At last~ Our Emperor shows up~”

Allen turned again — this time catching a blur of golden tails and bells as Bella arrived. Her eyes sparkled. Her lips parted in a slow, sultry smile.

“Took you long enough,” she said, walking a slow, dangerous circle around him. “I was almost about to miss you~”

Allen sat on the obsidian throne with a sigh, letting his arm drape casually over one side.

The whole crypt pulsed faintly — alive, as if sensing its master had returned.

For a moment, there was quiet.

Alice leaned against one of the throne’s armrests, twirling a cursed pendant between her fingers.

“So…” she said casually, drawing out the word with a mischievous edge. “How’s the photoshoot?”

Allen froze.

Just a little.

Barely noticeable.

But not enough.

He should’ve expected that. Of course Alice would ask about that. She always sniffed out moments like a cat scenting heat in the air — especially when it involved something he didn’t want to talk about.

He didn’t answer immediately. His gaze drifted toward the stained-glass window at the far end of the crypt.

And his brain?

Yeah.

His brain betrayed him instantly.

Because instead of grinding—his thoughts did a high-speed U-turn and crashed straight into the lingering image of two very distinct, very large pairs of breasts.

Allen could still remember the way the perfume clung to the air. The way their bodies brushed against his during that “CEO shot” pose. His shirt was definitely open. Mila’s thigh was over his lap. Vivian’s hand was on his chest.

And his brain was not okay about it.

“…Shit,” he muttered under his breath.

“Hmm~?” Alice perked up, clearly catching the flicker in his expression.

Allen quickly looked to the side, hiding the faint warmth creeping up his neck. “It was good.”

It wasn’t a lie. It was good.

Good enough to ruin his mental cooldown.

Bella appeared in front of him, one leg sliding out dramatically from behind a pillar as if she had choreographed the moment with a stage director.

Her tails swayed behind her like smug punctuation marks.

“Huh? You’re blushing,” she said sweetly, eyes wide like a teasing fox sprite pretending to be innocent. She tilted her head.

Allen opened his mouth to protest.

Stopped.

If he denied it now?

He’d look like a stupid, obvious liar.

He exhaled slowly and admitted with a tight smile, “A bit.”

Bella leaned closer, grinning now, fully entertained.

Allen didn’t miss how her pupils sharpened just slightly. Foxes didn’t let go of prey once they tasted weakness.

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