Supreme Spouse System.

Chapter 647: Hospitality of Serpents [Part-2]

Hospitality of Serpents [Part-2]

Then Robert nodded. "Then I will enjoy the night."

He tilted his head slightly. "Go ahead," he said

One stayed still. Then the other did too.

Quiet filled the room like it was waiting too.

The women waited.

Still as stone, the guards did not move.

The air sat heavy, like it was holding its breath.

Over there, William let his eyes drift beyond Robert.

It points elsewhere, never landing on someone.

Far from any wall at all.

Toward empty space.

"Scout."

Stillness filled the air around it.

Casual.

A curve formed in the space at his back.

Not rippling.

Not tearing.

Simply thinning.

A shape deeper than shadow broke loose from the surface, rising slowly, pulling taller, thickening - then settling into the form of someone on one knee.

A single knee rests against the rock’s cold face.

Head lowered.

Reality hesitates, leaving its edges blurred like something only partly invited into being.

A shape stayed just beyond clear sight, edges trembling as if made of mist trapped mid-crossing. Not where you’d expect faces, but hollows instead - deep, waiting, doing exactly what silence asks.

"As you command, my lord," the voice whispered.

Out of nowhere it appeared. Not spoken, not repeated - just there, slipping through the space like something already known. Breath carried it without effort.

That object held no interest for William. Seeing it made no difference to him.

"Escort Prince Robert to his chambers," William said, his tone calm, practiced. "Ensure his comfort."

"Yes, my lord."

Out of the dimness rose a form, pulling itself taller. Though no arms showed clearly, the outline hinted at shoulders, elbows, maybe hands. It dipped forward, just slightly, like respect taking shape. The figure held still, neither close nor far, simply present.

A twist, slight but sure, pulled its focus toward Robert.

"This way, Prince."

A heavy breath slipped out of Robert, slow and staged. His shoulders shifted like something unseen had just settled into place. The whole day’s load arrived then, pressing down without warning.

"Finally. An entire day of travel," he said, rubbing his temple with two fingers. "Even a prince gets tired."

A flicker of humor lit his gaze as it drifted to William. The corner of his mouth twitched, just slightly. Not quite a smile, but close enough to notice.

He winked.

"I’ll be counting on your excellent taste."

A half smile tugged at William’s lips.

"I doubt you’ll be disappointed."

A hum of amusement slipped out from Robert, quiet but warm, like he’d already picked his peace with what came next.

Forward he moved, then stopped just short of where the two selected women stood waiting.

A sharp breath caught in the girl’s chest, silver strands falling across her brow. Fingers curled into the cloth by her leg, knuckles pale. She glanced upward - just for a second - then looked off to the side. A beat pulsed beneath the skin of her neck.

Not once did she glance aside, the red-headed woman standing next to her.

A quiet look passed over her face as she watched Robert, eyes steady. Her mouth lifted at the corners, not fast but measured, like someone who knew what came next. That kind of grin often means you’ve been here before. It hinted at things left unsaid, weight behind silence.

A moment stretched - just slightly - before Robert looked away. His eyes had stayed fixed, a breath past what felt right.

After that, he came to a halt near William.

"Good night, Count."

His gaze locked onto William’s, calm but impossible to decipher.

"Good night, Prince."

Robert turned.

One step.

Then another.

Footsteps whispered over the tiles.

Breathing hard, he heard William speak right then. A pause happened. Words slipped past the silence after that.

"Don’t forget your promise."

Robert stopped.

A moment passed - walls closing just a breath too near, like the hall forgot how to breathe. Cold skated across William’s skin, light as a thought.

Staring back at Robert, William held his gaze steady. The moment stretched tight between them.

"As soon as possible," William said. "Call your army."

For a moment, Robert stayed quiet. Then silence stretched between them.

Slowly, he shifted, a slight pivot letting him glance behind. Over one shoulder, his eyes met William’s - quiet, probing, hunting what words left out.

A smile began to form on his mouth.

"I remember."

A moment of silence came next.

Something worth its length.

"We’ll talk tomorrow."

With his fingers loose, he waved like someone half asleep.

"Now I rest."

Just like that, he disappeared.

Faster than breath, it slipped beside him - clinging, never still. A smear of darkness trailing each step he took.

Through shadowed halls they moved, feet barely touching stone, each motion smooth like water slipping over glass. Silk slid along limbs, hushed tones caught between folds, sounds meant for walls alone. Not a word passed between them, yet the air hummed low, filled with what wasn’t said. The passage absorbed echoes, held breaths, kept rhythm with their unseen path.

Footsteps receded.

Silk faded.

Breath settled.

Silence returned.

True silence.

William stood alone.

Slowly...

The smile vanished.

Still there, unchanged by heat. The substance held its form completely.

Still held strong.

One moment it was there. Then nothing remained at all.

Like it vanished without a trace.

Still there, just a quiet kind of weight.

Not satisfaction.

Not even tension.

It was calculation.

Cold. Quiet. Precise.

Off he went, spinning around to head for the window.

A soft sweep of his hand moved the thick fabric open.

Outside, the city burned.

Without flames in sight.

With quiet embers instead.

But with memory.

Water flowed where blood used to. Paths soaked in what came before. Roads remembered only after they dried.

Buildings blackened by long-extinguished infernos.

A warmth lingered deep inside the rock. It held what the sun had given long after light moved on.

Floating just above the streets, a trace of burned wood stayed put, quiet yet endless, built into the shape of things here.

Floating up from the deep, faint sounds still made their way into the air.

Distant marching.

Muted orders.

A whisper of steel brushing on steel. The quiet ring of iron sliding near iron.

Leon’s presence.

Unmoving.

Unyielding.

A heavy presence settled, slow and sure. It dragged on everything around it.

Away from the crowd, William gazed at darkness. Night stretched beyond him.

"Finally..." he murmured.

A shape in the mirror held his gaze through the pane.

The face at the glass hadn’t changed one bit.

Yet not.

Eyes darker.

Older.

Wearing thicknesses built from nothing. Layers appeared where none were known.

He let the silence stretch before shaping his voice into a breath. The syllable hung light between them. A soft release of sound - almost too quiet to catch.

A weight shifted within his chest. Suddenly, it was easier to breathe.

Hardly a crack forms under the pressure.

Still too little on display.

Enough shows up, but only just. Feeling arrives without warning. A little stays behind.

"I’m close to the dream you once saw."

Up his eyes moved a bit.

Down here instead.

Not toward heaven.

Only a slight lift needed to notice the gap.

A little higher now, sensing the gap left behind when what was huge pulled away. There it is - the bare outline of absence.

A quiet exhale slipped out of him.

Back now to the room.

Few of them stood there, seven women left behind.

A few figures grouped themselves, forming an open arc. Their positions shifted slightly, uneven but deliberate.

Waiting. Watching.

Fear flickered across faces. Others stayed calm, still.

Some quietly curious.

A single glance says enough. Each one moves with quiet precision.

Each person there knew exactly who they were seeing.

His eyes drifted across each one. Slowly, William looked at them.

Not hungrily.

Not dismissively.

Appraising.

That gaze went past skin, into duty, stillness, preparedness. Not just bodies - he checked what they held inside. Like a commander scanning lines before something hushed began.

"You may undress," he said.

Simple.

Flat.

Heavy silence followed each syllable, more weight in them than a scream ever carried.

Sound vanished without repeating.

It was unnecessary for them to do so.

She stood still before stepping forward.

Barely a heartbeat.

A flicker of strain showed, just once, when her neck tensed slightly, then relaxed. Her eyes twitched downward, barely noticeable, before going still again.

Up went her fingers next.

Trembling.

The fabric brushed her collarbone as she moved her hand toward it. Her fingers closed around the narrow band lying there. It felt light, almost weightless against her skin. A quiet shift pulled it taut. The air changed when she lifted slightly.

Paused.

Like hesitating despite the go-ahead already handed down.

Downward it slipped after that.

Silk whispered.

A hush hung thick when the noise cracked through.

Fabric loosened.

Another followed.

Then another.

Still apart. Moving separately.