NOVGO.NET Chapter 1816: Heaven has Abs
Chapter 1816: Heaven has Abs
Villain Ch 1816. Heaven has Abs
Azura sat at the small table, already wearing a shirt and hotpants, her heart still racing. She hated how easy he made it look. How natural he was in her apartment, in her morning.
Like he’d always belonged there.
And the scary part?
She realized… she loved it.
Allen moved around her tiny kitchen with a confidence that made her chest ache. He didn’t look out of place—not one bit. His bare back flexed as he reached up into the cupboard, his muscles shifting with lazy precision, like he wasn’t aware or maybe he was, damn him… how much she was staring. The pan hissed softly as the eggs cooked, the toaster popped, the faint earthy aroma of tea leaves rising from the kettle.
Everything was simple. Efficient. Smooth.
He didn’t waste motion. He didn’t complain about her mismatched utensils or the small counter space. He just… cooked.
Azura’s fingers toyed with the hem of her shirt under the table, her heart doing that annoying rabbit-thumping thing again. ’He shouldn’t look this good frying eggs. That’s illegal. Where’s the report button?’
Allen poured himself a cup of tea, steam rising. He glanced at her over his shoulder, casual as anything. “Tea or milk?”
She blinked, startled. “Uh—milk.”
He arched a brow and opened her fridge. His smirk tugged. “Which one?”
Azura tilted her head. “…Which one?”
He stepped aside just enough for her to see. And sure enough—her fridge looked like a milk aisle had exploded inside. Cartons stacked, bottles lined up, flavors she half-forgot she’d bought.
Allen reached in, plucking one up. His lip quirked. “You even have matcha flavor?”
Azura’s ears went red. “S-Strawberry. I like strawberry.”
Allen hummed, that smug little note in his throat that made her want to throw the toaster at him, and poured the pink milk into a glass. He slid it onto the table like he’d been her butler for years.
Then, without missing a beat, he started dicing up fruit. Apples, pears, a handful of grapes, lined up with precision.
Azura’s brain fizzed out.
’Dear father, dear mother,’ she thought dramatically, resting her chin in her hands as she watched him work. ’I have a topless man in my kitchen, making me breakfast… I’m in heaven. Heaven has abs.’
Allen set the plates down in front of her—eggs, toast, fruit balanced just right. He pulled his own chair out, sat opposite her, and muttered like it was nothing, “Enjoy.”
But Azura just… stared.
Grinning stupidly, elbows propped on the table, chin resting in her palms, eyes glued to him like he was some forbidden treat she wasn’t allowed but already had.
She watched the way his hair fell slightly into his eyes, the casual roll of muscle every time he moved, the absolute ease with which he made her tiny kitchen feel like his own. It wasn’t just the food—it was him. Topless, calm, sipping tea like he belonged here, like he’d always belonged here.
Her heart hammered.
Allen raised a brow mid-bite. “Uh… you okay?”
Azura blinked rapidly. Her face went nuclear. “Oh—yeah, I’m okay!”
He smirked, sipping his tea. “You sure? You look like you’ve been hexed.”
“I—shut up,” she muttered, stabbing at her toast.
For a while, the only sounds were clinks of cutlery and the hum of the AC.
Then Azura finally broke the quiet, her voice low.
“Allen…”
He glanced up, chewing slowly. “Hm?”
Her fingers curled nervously on the table. “What do you… hope for in this? Us?”
Allen’s smirk faded, replaced by something sharper. He set his cup down deliberately, eyes locking on hers. “Be honest,” he said.
She blinked. “What?”
“I need you to say it straight. If you like this—say it. If you don’t—say it. Don’t hide behind that tough act. Don’t go tsundere on me.”
Azura stiffened. “I—I’m not tsundere!”
One brow lifted. “Not fully. But you have that side a little.”
Her face flushed hot. “I do not—!”
“You do,” he cut her off smoothly, leaning back with folded arms. “You glare. You pout. You throw pillows. And then you blush and stare when you think I’m not watching.”
Her lips parted, but the denial caught in her throat. Because… damn it, he wasn’t wrong.
Azura groaned, covering her face with her hands. “You’re the worst.”
Allen’s smirk curved, cool and fond all at once. “Maybe. But I’m your worst now.”
Her heart skipped, and she peeked at him through her fingers, cheeks burning. “Last night… was insane, you know.”
He sipped his tea like it was nothing. “Good insane?”
Azura rolled her eyes, but her lips quirked. “Don’t make me say it.”
“Say it,” he pressed, leaning in, his voice low and maddening.
Her blush spread down her neck. “…Good insane.”
Allen chuckled, satisfied, and reached across the table to brush his thumb over her hand. “That’s all I needed to hear.”
Azura swore her heart would explode right there.
Her stomach flipped so hard she thought she might fall off her chair.
The breakfast went on with banter laced between bites. He teased her about the pink milk; she teased him about how seriously he plated fruit. He asked if she always ate this light, and she admitted she usually skipped breakfast entirely, which earned her a lecture disguised as sarcasm.
At one point, he reached over and wiped a crumb from her lip with his thumb. Azura froze, her heart flatlining, her whole body going hot. Allen just licked his thumb, eyes never leaving hers, and smirked.
“You really…” she muttered, hiding behind her glass, “…you really know how to mess me up.”
“Good,” Allen said, finishing his tea. “That’s the plan.”
By the time the plates were cleared, Azura leaned back in her chair, staring at him like he was both a disaster and a miracle.
And maybe he was.
The Devil Emperor. Villain of the game. And the man now sitting topless in her kitchen, drinking tea like he’d always belonged there.
Her heart thudded again.
She loved it.