Villain MMORPG: Almighty Devil Emperor and His Seven Demonic Wives

Chapter 1928: Vegetable Mode

Villain Ch 1928. Vegetable Mode

He opened his eyes and looked at her.

She looked back. Half-asleep. Crumbs on her cheek. But honest.

They all were.

No one bothered pretending to be polished. Not after a night like that. There was no hiding behind flirtation or drama or smug banter—at least not completely. Just people. Wrecked and real. Half-dressed, half-alive, full of something soft that wasn’t spoken out loud.

Allen stared at the table a bit longer. At the crumbs. The coffee stains. The abandoned utensils.

Then he stood.

“Alright,” he muttered, clapping his hands once, weakly. “Let’s get this mess cleaned up before we all go into full vegetable mode.”

No one moved.

Vivian groaned. “Why are you like this…”

Jane rolled off the bench with a dramatic sigh and flopped onto the floor like her soul had left her body. “Let me die…”

Bella mumbled something unintelligible and literally went back to the bedroom without a word.

Zoe leaned her forehead against the fridge. “If I groan every thirty seconds, maybe someone will take pity and euthanize me.”

Shea sat down on the kitchen stool like her knees gave out. “Why do my calves hurt like I danced through a war?”

Allen raised a brow. “Because you did dance through a war. Naked. While dragging me into a lap dance dare.”

“Did I win though?” she asked faintly.

“You tried to tip yourself with bacon.”

“…Fair.”

Larissa, still in her apron, was the only one moving—stacking plates, gathering mugs, loading the dishwasher like it was muscle memory. She passed Allen the coffee pot and just gestured wordlessly.

He poured.

The kitchen filled with the gentle sound of clinking porcelain and lazy shuffling. Azura tried to help, but the moment she picked up a glass, she accidentally dropped a spoon and got flustered enough to sit back down.

Vivian handed off the last dirty plate with a sigh. “Okay. That’s all the effort I got in me. The rest is someone else’s problem.”

“Dishwasher is full,” Allen announced, closing it and pressing the button. It beeped obediently.

And that… was that.

Sort of.

Because then came the next hurdle… actually getting up to do anything.

Showering. Dressing. Packing. Functioning like normal human beings.

Which apparently was asking too much.

An hour passed.

Maybe more.

Allen showered first. Fresh towel. Loose grey tee. Cargo pants. Hair still damp but now styled enough to not look homeless. He emerged from the bathroom into chaos-lite.

Jane was on the floor, still in her underwear, limbs spread like a dead starfish. “Just… bury me here,” she mumbled. “Tell my supervisor I died a noble death. She’ll understand.”

“She literally won’t,” Allen replied, stepping over her carefully.

Bella was curled up on the bed again, blanket over her head like a burrito. No movement. Just soft breathing. The kind that meant she was fully asleep again.

Zoe was groaning in intervals. Consistent. Predictable. Every thirty seconds. Like clockwork.

Shea made it halfway through packing before she sat down beside her suitcase and tilted her head back with an exaggerated sigh. “I need someone to massage my soul.”

Allen passed her a bottle of water instead.

She took it, sipped, and gave a thumbs up with her eyes still closed.

Alice, somehow still naked, had gone back to the hot spring with Vivian and Azura. The three of them lounged like mythological sirens post-battle, floating half-submerged, hair undone, skin dewy and pink.

Allen just shook his head.

Only he and Larissa looked functional. Probably because the two of them had gym schedules and weren’t complete degenerates outside of sex and game nights.

Larissa emerged in black leggings and a wine-colored crop top, hair in a clean ponytail, face already moisturized and glowing. “The others?” she asked.

Allen just gestured. “Dead. Don’t expect miracles. In bad case, we need to help them.”

Still, somehow…

They moved.

It took time.

It took whining.

It took Larissa pulling Jane upright by the ankle.

It took Allen stealing the blanket from Bella.

It took Alice carrying along with her suitcase from the guest room because she refused to walk that far.

But eventually…

They packed.

They showered.

They dressed.

They stood in the living room, mostly dressed like real people. Luggages closed. Shoes near the door.

Vivian sighed. Loudly.

“So…” she said, glancing at the clock. “Vacation’s over.”

Jane deflated. “Ugh. Don’t say that.”

“I feel sad,” Vivian continued.

Allen smirked, leaning against the wall. “Because you’ll miss me?”

Jane looked up. Face flat. “No. Because I have to go back to work.”

There was a beat.

Allen deadpanned. “You just ruined my mood.”

Zoe nodded solemnly. “Yeah. That did it.”

Shea stared at the window like it personally offended her. “Tomorrow is Monday…”

Vivian flinched. “Oh no. I have emails.”

Alice fished her phone to her hand and groaned. “Two hundred and forty-seven unread.”

Bella finally spoke, voice muffled behind her hair. “If I pretend I’m still on vacation, the work won’t find me, right?”

“No,” Allen said immediately. “But you can say you got food poisoning and avoid work until Wednesday.”

“…Smart.”

Larissa crossed her arms. “I already took care of my deadlines before we came. You guys are chaos.”

“Hot chaos,” Jane corrected. “Don’t be jealous.”

Vivian wandered over and leaned into Allen’s side, arms around his waist. “I’m serious though. I’m gonna miss this.”

He looked down at her. “This?”

“This. Us. All of it. Even the dumb sticker games.”

Azura blushed. “And the hot spring.”

“And the cards,” Bella added, adjusting her glasses again. “Even if Allen cheated.”

“I didn’t cheat. I won,” he corrected.

“With what stamina?” Zoe asked, arching a brow.

“Muscle memory and pure spite,” Allen replied.

That made Jane laugh. “Of course it was spite. That’s our emperor.”

He rolled his eyes, but it was fond.

The mood dipped again. Just a little. A soft hum beneath the jokes. That kind of quiet that only shows up when you know a moment’s about to end.

Allen scanned the room.

Messy hair. Tired eyes.

Soft smiles.

The kind of people you’d fight for.

The kind of people who made the word home confusing in the best way.