Supreme Spouse System.

Chapter 555: The Night of Choice

The Night of Choice

The silence after William’s proposal didn’t feel empty.

It felt crowded.

Dozens of thoughts collided in dozens of minds. Ambition, fear, greed, survival — all of it twisted together until none of them could tell where loyalty ended and instinct began.

The long oak table reflected their faces in warped gold. Every flicker of torchlight seemed to reshuffle their expressions. One heartbeat they were kings in their own minds. The next, they were men cornered by history.

No one spoke.

Not yet.

Then Renn’s fingers tightened around his goblet.

His knuckles went white.

He hesitated.

"...What happens," he asked slowly, voice tight, "after we win?"

The word win tasted strange on his tongue.

"What happens when Moonstone and Vellore are dealt with?" he continued. "When Skyfall grows... when borders stretch... what becomes of us?"

A few heads turned toward him — grateful he’d asked.

William leaned back in his chair.

The word win tasted strange on his tongue.

"What happens when Moonstone and Vellore are dealt with?" he continued. "When Skyfall grows... when borders stretch... what becomes of us?"

A few heads turned toward him — grateful he’d asked.

William leaned back in his chair.

And smiled.

Not loudly.

Not proudly.

Quietly.

Like a fisherman watching the float tremble.

This was the question he’d been waiting for.

Robert answered before William could.

His voice was calm.

Smooth.

"...You live."

The nobles turned toward him.

He rose slowly from his seat.

Blue robes flowing like calm water.

"Not as pawns," Robert continued, his tone light. "Not as ashes."

He moved closer to the table.

"As architects."

A murmur rolled through the room.

Robert placed a hand against his chest.

"Lord William does not disappear," he said. "He becomes a vessel."

The nobles blinked.

"A crown-bearer," Robert clarified, smiling. "A king in all but name."

William held Robert’s gaze.

Knew this was more than theater.

This was design.

"He will govern Vellore and Moonstone," Robert said, looking around. "Under Skyfall protection. Under Skyfall strength."

He spread his hands slightly.

"And you?"

He gestured toward the nobles.

"You remain where you belong."

He smiled again.

"At the top."

The room shifted.

A few nobles straightened in their seats.

Others swallowed hard.

Renn whispered, "...Our positions?"

Robert nodded once.

"Secured."

Another noble hesitated, lifting a hand.

"Forgive me, Prince Robert... but..." his voice shook slightly, "...isn’t this a loss for Skyfall? Giving so much power to another land?"

A soft chuckle escaped Robert.

"No," he said.

He leaned forward just a little.

"It is trust."

The word hung like perfume in the air.

"True allies do not fear strength," Robert said. "They share it."

William smirked faintly.

He knew that smile.

Robert was lying.

Everyone knew.

But it was a beautiful lie.

And beautiful lies were often enough.

William’s eyes flicked across the nobles.

He watched the shift.

The slow rot of resistance.

The pull of desire.

He could almost hear their thoughts.

If we refuse, we die.

If we accept, we rise.

If we hesitate, we’re crushed by kings.

Finally, Renn stood.

His chair scraped against stone.

He placed both hands on the table.

"...If this is the only road that lets my sons inherit something other than graves..." he said, voice hoarse.

He bowed his head.

"Then I stand with you, Lord William."

That crack... spread.

One by one—

"I agree."

"I’ll follow."

"This is better than kneeling to Leon."

"I choose survival."

"I choose power."

Glasses lifted.

Hands clapped.

Chairs scraped as more stood.

The chamber filled with forced laughter that quickly became real.

Relief tasted like wine.

Fear turned to excitement.

William rose slowly.

Gentleman’s grace.

Glass in hand.

"You honor me," he said softly. "Let us celebrate."

He clapped once.

The sound echoed like a signal.

The doors opened.

And the night changed.

Soft footsteps filled the hall.

Silk brushed skin.

Perfume rolled forward like a warm tide.

An array of women entered the room — beautiful, delicate, wrapped in flowing garments that caught the firelight in a soft, sensual glow.

Their eyes were lowered.

Their hands folded.

Their presence carefully composed.

There were twice as many women as nobles.

Whispers broke free.

Lips parted.

Some men shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

Others didn’t hide the hunger in their eyes.

William’s voice was smooth.

"These are gifts," he said. "Two for each of you."

He lifted his glass.

"Virgins," he added softly. "Untouched."

The room inhaled sharply.

"Go," he said. "Enjoy tonight. Rooms are prepared."

The nobles laughed.

Real now.

Relieved.

Hungry.

They rose from their seats like men released from chains.

"Lord William..." one said, already walking. "You understand us too well."

Some grabbed hands.

Some whispered promises.

Some groaned prayers.

One noble paused and turned back.

"...I think I need rest," he said awkwardly.

Two women stepped beside him with gentle smiles.

He didn’t resist.

The doors began to close.

Laughter spilled into the corridors.

Moans of anticipation.

Soft, nervous giggles.

Promises that would not survive morning.

Slowly, the room emptied.

Only William and Robert remained.

And the women.

The lamps burned lower.

Silence returned — thicker, warmer, dirtier.

"Quite a spectacle," Robert said, lifting his goblet.

William said nothing.

Just watched.

The women stood in quiet lines.

Waiting.

Ready.

Disposable.

Robert leaned closer to William and whispered:

"They’re yours now."

William’s eyes narrowed slightly.

"They were always mine," he replied.

But there was something else behind his gaze.

Not lust.

Calculation.

Control.

He lifted his goblet.

Took a slow sip.

Watched the curtain sway.

Felt the land outside.

Scorched.

Still burning.

Still marked by Leon’s march.

Boots echoing somewhere out there.

Ash still in the air.

War not finished.

Not even close.

The women shifted slightly.

The wine faded from his tongue.

Robert leaned back.

Smiled.

"This is where empires are born," he said.

William smiled back.

And somewhere beyond stone and silk, fate tightened its grip.

The world moved closer to collapse.

And in a quiet room filled with smoke, silk, and soft breathing, two men finished dividing kingdoms.