Villain MMORPG: Almighty Devil Emperor and His Seven Demonic Wives

Villain Ch 1663. Operation Sweet Tooth

Allen groaned. "You're insane."

"Maybe."

"You do realize Chef Michael will murder you if he sees those inside his kitchen."

"I know." She nodded quickly. "That's why we're smuggling them upstairs to my room before he finds out."

Allen blinked.

"No need for bloodshed, brother. Just a clean operation." She gently closed the box again, sealing the precious cakes like stolen treasure. "Now, let's move before Chef Michael senses my betrayal."

Allen raised a brow. "Why me? You could've done this alone."

Emma pouted dramatically. "Because you're my big brother. You owe me. Also, I'll give you one or two cupcakes later if you help."

He sighed. "I can't believe I'm doing this."

Emma pumped her fist quietly. "Smuggling Cake Mission: Operation Sweet Tooth — begin."

And off she went.

Allen followed behind, trying to maintain some level of dignity while Emma practically role-played as an agent infiltrating a high-security vault.

She crouch-walked dramatically between marble columns, glancing left and right like they were dodging laser beams. Every two steps, she'd freeze against a wall like she expected a patrol to pass.

Allen?

He just walked.

Casual.

Unbothered.

Straight down the center of the grand hall.

The real absurdity was… Emma's overly dramatic sneaking made her ten times more suspicious than just walking normally.

Passing maids looked at her like she'd lost her mind.

One butler paused mid-walk, blinking as Emma rolled behind a decorative vase dramatically while whispering into her hand like she had a hidden earpiece.

"Visual contact with primary target: dining staff approaching. I repeat, hostiles inbound."

Allen rubbed his temple.

'God, she's committed to the bit.'

As he passed the butler, Allen gave a polite nod. "Don't ask."

The butler bowed slightly, wisely choosing to pretend none of this was happening.

Emma darted from cover to cover, whispering nonsense mission code every few meters.

"Sector clear. Proceeding to checkpoint alpha."

"Thermal readings indicate Chef Michael still in kitchen sector B."

"Stealth mode activated."

Allen finally spoke under his breath. "You know you're making this more obvious, right?"

"That's reverse psychology," she whispered back. "The more obvious I act, the more they'll think I'm joking."

"That's not how it works."

Emma grinned. "Yet here we are."

They reached the grand staircase.

Emma pressed herself flat against the railing like she expected sniper fire.

Allen casually started climbing the stairs normally, hands in pockets.

"I'm serious. The landing is the most exposed area."

"I refuse to sneak-crawl upstairs in my own damn house."

"You have no sense of fun."

They reached the top without incident.

Finally, the pair reached Emma's private wing.

The moment the door closed behind them, Emma let out a victorious sigh of relief. "Mission complete. No casualties."

Allen exhaled deeply, slumping into one of her lounge chairs. "I hope this was worth it."

It was his first time inside Emma's room. And he had to admit — it wasn't what he expected.

The moment he sat back, his eyes scanned the space.

Spacious. Naturally. The room was easily the size of most luxury apartments, high ceilings with warm gold crown moldings. Large arched windows framed by soft pastel curtains let in the fading amber light from the estate gardens outside.

The walls weren't covered in the usual gaudy art that some rich heiresses loved — no, Emma's taste was a strange hybrid of elegant minimalism and her chaotic personality bleeding through.

One side displayed built-in bookshelves stacked with fashion magazines, art books, some corporate law materials — and of course, an entire shelf dedicated to collector figurines and limited-edition game merch she pretended not to care about.

The far wall held her massive built-in wardrobe — sliding glass doors revealing neatly arranged designer clothes, most still tagged. Shoes organized by color, heels perfectly aligned like soldiers waiting for inspection.

Her desk was cluttered, though still oddly neat in her chaotic way. A tablet. Two phones. Several notepads filled with handwritten schedules, brainstorming ideas, and her personal scribbled "weird strategy" notes.

In one corner, a massive plush sofa with oversized cushions looked like a nest where she probably scrolled her phone for hours.

But what drew his attention most was the mini bar.

Polished marble countertop. Backlit display shelves filled not with alcohol, but with imported teas, rare chocolates, glass jars of imported honey, and an absurd variety of fruit syrups.

Emma's version of luxury was sweet. Literally.

She bounced toward that mini bar now like a child sneaking into a candy vault, carefully setting the cupcake box on the marble like it was some sacred relic they'd just stolen from an enemy nation.

She opened the lid again, admiring her prize.

"Look at them. Pure art."

Allen couldn't help but admit… yeah, they looked incredible.

Perfect frosting peaks. Shiny edible pearls. Delicate layers of colored cream.

He leaned forward, eyeing the one topped with a caramelized rose petal. "That one's mine."

Emma immediately slapped his hand away playfully. "Negotiations are not open yet."

Allen rolled his eyes. "Unbelievable."

Emma winked. "Patience, brother. You'll get your cut."

She poured two glasses of chilled sparkling water, handing one to him.

Allen accepted, leaning back again as the tension finally faded.

For a moment, it was just comfortable silence between siblings.

Allen allowed himself a rare, soft grin as he sipped.

Emma noticed it instantly.

"You know…" she said quietly. "You look happier today."

Allen blinked, raising a brow. "Do I?"

Emma nodded, voice sincere now. "Yeah." She lowered her voice slightly. "Her, right?"

Allen exhaled slowly, saying nothing at first.

Then, softly. "Maybe."

Emma smiled warmly. "Good. About time something good distracts you for once."

Allen smiled back faintly. He didn't say anything, but yeah… she wasn't wrong.

Then, without missing a beat, Emma reached for the cupcake box, like they hadn't just risked an entire stealth mission for it. She carefully plucked the cupcake with the delicate gold flakes and took a dramatic, slow bite, her eyes closing as if savoring fine wine.

"God… worth every damn credit," she mumbled between chews.

Allen watched her, amused. But of course, she wasn't done.

Swallowing, she suddenly looked at him, voice lowering into her usual nosy-sister mode.

"So… this cow girl."

Allen blinked. "Cow girl?"