Villain MMORPG: Almighty Devil Emperor and His Seven Demonic Wives

Chapter 1734: Bathed Like a Dying Noble

Villain Ch 1734. Bathed Like a Dying Noble

The hallway back to Shea’s room was dim, lit only by wall sconces and the soft underglow from recessed lighting along the floorboards. The kind of hallway meant for quiet luxury and midnight conversations.

When he opened the bedroom door, he didn’t expect all of them to still be awake.

But they were.

Or at least, some of them were.

Zoe was curled up at the edge of the bed, half-buried under three blankets, scrolling through something on her phone. Bella had a face mask on, talking quietly to Alice about the difference between linen thread counts while Alice nodded sleepily.

Shea, predictably, was stretched across the middle of the bed like a spoiled cat queen. Larissa sat at the edge with a glass of water, watching him walk in like she’d known he’d be back at that exact moment.

Vivian had claimed a corner pillow, already flopped down in her pajamas, pretending to be asleep but definitely listening.

Allen stopped in the doorway.

“Survived?” Shea asked.

“Barely.”

“You smell good,” Zoe mumbled.

“Thanks. I got bathed like a dying noble.”

He walked to the side of the bed and dropped into the sheets like gravity got aggressive. The fabric was warm. The pillow was soft. One of the girls had clearly reheated the blankets with some heating pad trick.

He pulled the covers up slowly. His eyes felt heavier than he expected.

Then he felt someone slip in beside him.

Larissa. Silent, deliberate. She didn’t speak. She just let her fingers brush his, and then stayed there.

The others didn’t say much after that.

Allen closed his eyes and felt the warmth of the room press against his bones, the low hum of breath, the occasional rustle of a blanket. His thoughts drifted—past kisses, unsaid confessions, the feel of a cloth trailing down his chest, and a voice telling him to relax.

Just relax.

Maybe, for once, he could.

Allen let his body sink deeper into the mattress, the soft sheets cradling him like they’d been waiting. He wasn’t used to this kind of warmth. Not the heat of battle, not the thrill of domination. No. This was something else. Something… still. Undemanding. Unarmed.

He let his eyes drift half-closed, but the voices around him were like soft background music—buzzing, fluttering, always just a little louder than silence.

Then he felt hands on his shoulders.

Not aggressive. Not teasing.

Zoe, her fingers pressing gently into the muscle just below his neck. “You’re tense,” she muttered, shifting on the bed behind him. “Like, concrete statue tense.”

“I wonder why,” Allen murmured. “Maybe because I’m dating seven emotional hurricanes.”

“Oh, you love us,” she said, digging in with her thumbs, making him groan quietly.

He did. He wouldn’t say it. But he did.

A second later, Bella climbed over the bed with some weird bottle of oil that smelled like lavender and mint. She settled beside his legs and uncapped it dramatically. “Back up. I’m doing his calves.”

“What now?” Allen blinked.

“Calves,” she said again, undeterred. “Yours are always tense. And I’ve been waiting months for a chance to mess with you when you’re too relaxed to stop me.”

“I’m not—ugh,” he muttered as her thumbs found a pressure point and made him jolt. “God. Fine. Just don’t break anything.”

“No promises.”

Vivian, awake now, was lounging near his feet, legs crossed, arms folded, watching them with a sleepy grin. “I’d offer to help, but I’m emotionally fulfilled tonight. Just gonna observe your downfall.”

Jane popped up beside him like a goblin with purpose, holding a gleaming packet in one hand. “Allen. My love. My chaos king.”

He squinted. “That tone concerns me.”

“Shut up,” she said cheerfully. “I’m putting a sheet mask on you.”

“What.”

“Don’t resist. Let it happen.”

“No, Jane, I’m not letting you—”

He didn’t finish.

Because she’d already slapped the cold, wet thing on his face.

It clung.

It smelled like some kind of floral monstrosity.

Rosewater? Cucumber? Regret?

“There we go,” Jane said, adjusting the edges with surgical precision. “Now you’re beautiful.”

“I was already beautiful,” Allen said through the damp fabric. “Now I’m a wet corpse.”

“Don’t talk. You’ll ruin the collagen.”

“This is so cursed,” he muttered.

Zoe giggled into his hair. Bella smacked his leg. Vivian looked smug.

Shea, still seated at the head of the bed, finally spoke. “You know, I was gonna offer my lap as a pillow.”

Allen tilted his head slightly, mask sliding. “And now?”

“I still am. Come here.”

Too tired to argue, he shifted—carefully, lazily—and let his head rest against her thighs. Her fingers immediately threaded through his damp hair, slow and gentle, like she was smoothing away thoughts.

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“This feels illegal,” he said after a pause.

“You like it,” Shea murmured.

“It feels like I crashed a girls’ sleepover.”

“You did,” Jane said. “We just didn’t kick you out.”

“I feel like there should be nail polish or—”

Alice, quiet until now, held up a bottle of soft lilac nail color. “I brought some.”

Allen stared at her upside down. “…I’m genuinely afraid of all of you.”

“You should be,” Larissa said from the corner, sipping her tea. “But we’re also the only people keeping you sane.”

“I was fine before.”

“No, you weren’t,” Zoe said gently.

He didn’t answer.

Because maybe he wasn’t.

Maybe he hadn’t been for a long time. And maybe this—the warmth, the noise, the ridiculous face mask drying on his skin—maybe this was the first time he felt like he could stop. Just for a night.

Bella draped a blanket over his legs.

Jane flopped beside him, arm draped across his shoulder like a lazy cat. “See? You’re one of us now.”

“God help me.”

“No gods here,” Vivian muttered. “Just us and an alarming amount of emotional baggage.”

“And collagen,” Jane added.

Allen tried to glare at her, but the mask pulled weirdly at his face.

She laughed. “You look so mad. And yet so smooth.”

“Kill me.”

“Nope. We’re preserving you.”

He sighed. Closed his eyes.

And it all just… faded.

The scent of mint and lavender in the air. The faint, muffled sounds of someone flipping a page. Larissa’s quiet humming. Zoe’s breath on the back of his neck as she continued her slow, precise massage. Shea’s fingers still moving through his hair.

No demands. No masks to wear—except the cursed wet one stuck to his cheeks.

Allen didn’t mean to fall asleep.

But he did.

Right there, wrapped in blankets and affection, buried in the soft absurdity of love that didn’t need to shout.

And for once…

He didn’t dream of anything.

Your gift is the motivation for my creation. Give me more motivation!

Thank you for the Magic Castle, William_Tex!

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