Supreme Spouse System.

Chapter 516: The Price of a Kingdom

The Price of a Kingdom

The stone stairs creaked beneath Leon’s boots as he descended, each step swallowed by the heavy blackness pressing in from all sides. The torches along the corridor sputtered in their brackets, coughing out thin flames that barely held back the oppressive dark. Smoke curled through the air in lazy spirals, carrying the familiar scent of burnt oil and damp stone.

Every step deeper felt colder. Thicker. As if the air itself didn’t want to be breathed.

Behind him, the guards’ footsteps followed—steady, disciplined, their armor whispering against their uniforms as they kept formation around him. Their presence didn’t feel protective. It felt ceremonial, like escorts to a place where light had long since died.

Leon ran his hand along the banister, feeling how the wood had been blackened by age and heat. This place hasn’t changed, he thought. Rotten air. Hidden sins. Everyone pretending they don’t hear the screams that once lived here.

The descent twisted, turned, and finally opened into a long corridor that stretched like an open wound beneath the castle. The stone walls were drenched in moisture, gleaming faintly in the flickering firelight. The closer they walked, the thicker the air became—humid, metallic, and carrying the sour scent of people who had been trapped too long.

Inside the cells, shadows shifted.

Some prisoners were old, their backs bent, muttering things even they didn’t understand anymore. Some were young, faces too soft to be trapped in a place like this. Others glared with hardened eyes, jaws clenched, the weight of their crimes dripping off them like sweat.

They whispered as Leon passed.

Some in awe.

Some in fear.

Some in bitter resentment.

The guards beside him stiffened instinctively, hands brushing the hilts of their weapons as they walked. Leon didn’t look at them. His attention stayed forward, expression calm but eyes observant. Every set of bars he passed, every pair of eyes staring through the dark, told him a story.

He reached the halfway point when one guard stepped forward.

"Your Majesty," the man said quietly, bowing his head. "It’s the last cell at the end. The one you asked for."

Leon nodded. "Lead."

The guard walked faster now, almost nervous. Leon noticed the small tremor in his steps. Interesting. The deeper they went, the more tense the guards around him grew. By the time they reached the final corridor, every soldier was standing straighter than before, shoulders stiff, gazes forward.

At the end of the corridor stood a larger cell—reinforced with double-layered iron bars, the stone around it darker than the rest as if the room itself had been stained by whatever happened inside.

The guard who had spoken earlier bowed low and stepped aside.

"My sire... this is where we keep the Finance Minister. The one you wanted to see."

Leon took a slow breath, letting the foul air settle in his lungs. "Good. All of you—wait here."

The guards bowed as one.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Leon stepped toward the cell.

Inside sat a man who looked like sin had been stuffed inside a sack of flesh.

Middle-aged. Very fat. Thick cheeks, sweaty skin, hair matted against his forehead. Bandages were wrapped around his shoulder and stomach—dark with dried blood, freshly soaked in patches. His tiny eyes twitched nervously as he tried to sit up straighter.

Leon tapped the bars lightly with his knuckles.

Ding. Ding.

The sound cut through the dungeon like a blade. The fat man flinched as though the metal itself had struck him.

Slowly, he looked up.

Leon didn’t speak at first. He simply watched, letting silence do its work. The man’s breathing quickened.

"W-Who... who are you?" the man stammered, trying to wipe sweat off his forehead with trembling fingers.

Leon gave a small smile. Calm. Almost polite.

"Oh, sorry," he said softly, voice warm in a way that somehow felt more dangerous. "I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Leon."

He paused, eyes narrowing just slightly.

"Your new king."

The man’s jaw dropped. His face went pale enough to resemble wet chalk.

"K-King...? Your Majesty, I—I didn’t know— I mean— please forgive— I can explain everything!"

Leon tilted his head, studying him the same way a man studies a snake deciding whether to kill it or let it crawl. Thick skin. Fake fear. Sly eyes. A rat pretending to be a lamb. He’d seen this type a thousand times back in Silver City. They always underestimated him. They always thought a calm face meant a soft heart.

The Finance Minister scrambled closer to the bars, kneeling so fast his knees slapped the ground with a wet thud.

"Your Majesty, please! I never intended to betray anyone! Everything that happened was—was a misunderstanding!"

Leon didn’t blink.

"A misunderstanding," he echoed, amused.

"Yes! Yes! I-I admit I made some errors, but theft? Treason? I swear on my ancestors I would never!"

Leon lifted a brow. "Really? Because according to your guards—"

One of the soldiers straightened immediately and spoke from behind him.

"When he attempted to flee, sire, he took part of the royal treasury with him. Commander Black and his men caught him before he reached the east gate. The goods have been recovered."

The fat man paled further, shaking his head desperately. "Lies! All lies! I was framed!"

Leon stared at him with a faint smile.

"...Framed by whom?"

"I—I don’t know!" he cried, voice cracking. "Someone jealous of my position! Someone who wanted me gone! I... I can serve you, Your Majesty! I can prove my loyalty!"

Leon let out a soft chuckle. "Loyalty? You?"

The man swallowed hard.

Leon took one step closer, his presence calm but sharp enough to slice the thick dungeon air.

"You know," he said quietly, "you talk a lot for someone caught with a bag of gold strapped to his stomach while running like a frightened pig." His tone was gentle, but each word landed like a hammer.

The fat man’s lips trembled. "Y-Your Majesty..."

Leon leaned slightly closer to the bars, eyes glinting with a slow-burning intensity.

"Don’t worry," he whispered. "I’m not here to kill you."

The man blinked quickly, confused. Hope flickered in his eyes.

Leon’s voice dropped lower—soft, dangerous, oddly pleasant.

"I only want one thing."

The fat man nodded repeatedly, hands pressed together. "Anything, Your Majesty! Anything!"

Leon’s smile deepened—quiet, unreadable,