Supreme Spouse System.

Chapter 705: When the King Comes Home

When the King Comes Home

A figure moved past the edge of his property line. Footsteps pressed into place where ground met doorway.

Behind him, the heavy doors shut with a dull sound, cutting off the cool control he showed out there. A moment passed before he moved at all. Still holding on, the tightness across his back refused to let go - pressure from choices made, from people always looking, from followers whose deep bows held no real meaning.

Warmth reached him next.

Heat alone did not make it real. There stood something deeper instead. A known feeling settled in. This place carried that quiet comfort of belonging.

Above, the chandelier hung heavy, its glass strands glinting like ice caught mid-fall. The space stretched wider than any room he’d ruled over back when silver towers marked his title. Underfoot, marble swirled with golden threads, lit gently, holding flickering traces of his shape. Each step sank silently into red rugs so thick they seemed to breathe. Light broke apart there, tossed by prisms down through the still air.

Footsteps silent, he moved ahead.

Above the staircase, his picture watched from the wall - dark hair, gold-threaded robe, eyes too bright to ignore. Sunlight slipped through tall windows along the east, filtered by thin golden-edged fabric that softened everything beneath. Air thick with floating specks sparkled faintly, as if lit from within. He did not recall looking so sharp, so severe - the artist had sharpened edges memory left blurred.

Stronger.

Colder.

For just a second, Leon stared at it. Then his eyes stayed fixed, quiet, taking it in without moving.

"Hm."

Out of nowhere, a gentle laugh slipped through the quiet. Then came words - light, almost playful - that hung in the air between them.

"Still admiring yourself, Your Majesty?"

Not a muscle in his face changed, yet his gaze slid sideways. His stare moved where it shouldn’t reach. Stillness held his body while something inside redirected sight alone.

A hint of jasmine lingered, mixed with the slow burn of sandalwood. Heat hung close. Quiet closeness filled the space.

A curve of cushions waits close to where the room opens wide

His world.

Slouched right in the middle, Rias wore a robe of dark red silk, her leg hooked loosely across the chair’s edge. Down one shoulder flowed strands of red hair, bright as burning embers, while her matching eyes gleamed with open playfulness. A small shift of her chin let her look at him differently - as though he stood under lights instead.

"Or," she added, lips curving, "are you wondering if the painter did you justice?"

A breath slipped out of Leon, quiet and steady. At the edge of his lips, something almost like a grin appeared. Generous - that was how he chose to remember him

Ah? Rias tilted slightly ahead, the fabric whispering over her arms. She had assumed he was already tied down

Aria settled next to her, poised but relaxed, strands of violet spilling without effort over her shoulders. Where Rias leaned into boldness, Aria watched with still curiosity - a quiet arch of her eyebrow, eyes catching every shift around her.

"You look troubled," Aria said gently. Not accusing. Observing. "The council did not make things easy."

Cynthia stayed straight-backed, every line of her body perfectly placed, fingers folded quiet in her seat. Her gaze locked on him - dark, quick, steady - studying like she always did, slow and exact.

"They rarely do," Cynthia added. "But that is not what weighs on you."

His eyes shifted away from the painting, coming to rest upon their faces at last.

A quiet release softened the tightness along his jawline.

"You three are far too perceptive."

Rias laughed softly. "We have to be. You attract trouble like moths to flame."

Close by, the smell of jasmine grew stronger when he entered their warm space. This part of the property seemed changed - not cold stone and riches, but something alive, pulsing.

Still," Leon murmured, pausing in front of the sofa, "you remain

Aria’s expression softened. "Where else would we be?"

Calm came from her words, though a quiet shift slipped beneath them. You’re not stuck facing those weights by yourself now

Rias leaned back again, crossing her arms loosely. "Besides," she said lightly, though her eyes held something fiercer, "if someone is going to challenge the world, it might as well be you. It’s more entertaining that way."

A soft laugh slipped out of Leon - real, not forced.

Under open sky, power sat heavy on his shoulders. Plans shaped themselves behind his eyes. Steel met air without warning.

Here -

A figure paused there, facing the trio of women who noticed each lie behind his face yet stayed beside him still. Not because they had to. Because something deeper held them close.

His world.

A shadow of red silk pooled around her where she sat, Rias resting in the middle like a slow flame. Her hair, just as dark as the fabric, slipped past one shoulder without warning. A spark lit her gaze - sharp, playful, never asking permission.

That middle spot belonged to her now, like some quiet crown. A knee tucked under, bare foot resting near the chair leg. Her fingertip moved slow around the glass edge, half-full of red she didn’t touch. Not tense - but never quite drifting either. Every pose chosen, even the ones that looked careless.

Aria settled into place, posture calm as always, strands of violet falling behind her shoulders. Her eyes held a quiet kind of wonder - yet sparkled with something lighter. Stillness wrapped around her, though humor lingered just beneath.

Her eyes stayed fixed, quiet, while words moved around her. A faint grin sometimes played at the corner of her mouth - like she already knew where things would land before anyone else caught on.

Cynthia was sitting straight, calm, her dark eyes just as keen.

Stillness sat on her like authority. Not slumped, never loose - spine straight, fingers laced just above the knee. Quiet, yet sharp-eyed, as if weighing words before they’re spoken. Every pause carried weight.

A hush fell between them as Syra’s smirk curled at the edges, her green strands catching the glow above. Kyra tilted nearer, voice low, words threading through the quiet like a secret needle. Light flickered across their shoulders, pooling in the space where laughter waited just behind teeth.

Low words slipped from Kyra’s lips. A gleam lit Syra’s gaze.

That’s harsh, she breathed, yet her smile stretched wider. Still, I’m into it

Kyra’s lips twitched faintly. "I didn’t say we’d actually do it."

Sitting close, Sona beside Lira, their stillness broken only by strands of pale hair glowing under the sun’s touch. A mother near her child. Quiet they stayed. Eyes forward, both taking it all in.

A hush settled close to their skin, one that seemed to have been waiting long before walls took shape. Stillness hung like breath held too deep, older than the space it filled.

Mia whispered close to Cassidy, their eyes down. Not far off, Nova kept watch without a word. Leaning by the armrest, Natasha stayed still, balanced. Discipline shaped Tsubaki’s seated form, upright despite rest.

Fey, Rui, Mona, Lena, and Mira stayed close by, faces quiet. Behind them, Chloe along with Lilyn held back just slightly.

A hush seemed to hang in the air, where light pooled under glowing chandeliers. Velvet curtains stood like quiet guards by high windows. Firelight danced across smooth, waxed floors. This place felt nothing like the Moonstone Palace.

Life had clearly passed through here.

They were talking about the estate.

Up above, the balconies stretched wide - wider than Moonstone Palace, Sona remarked, soft but not surprised. She looked up slowly, words calm, more noticing than amazed.

"And less suffocating," Cassidy added softly. "The halls don’t echo the same way."

Lira nodded. "And warmer. Moonstone felt... colder."

A silence slipped in just then.

Mia tipped her head sideways. "Is it colder?" she said.