Supreme Spouse System.

A Sister's Tease, A Sister's Gift

"He's powerful. Beyond belief. If anyone can kill that idiot Gary, it's him. I believe it with all my heart."

Natasha's words hung in the air like a vow. Her face shone, almost too bright for the dark chamber. Hope was not just in her smile; it seemed to emanate from her skin, as if her belief alone could conjure that future into being.

Natty, observing the expression on her little sister's face, felt something move. The way Natasha described Leon—eyes lighting, lips twisting, voice relaxing—wasn't the way one described a friend. It was softer. Crazier. A sort of reverence that slid under her defenses.

A smiling come-on tugged at Natty's mouth. She cocked her head, dark eyes narrowing a fraction.

Natasha," she said quietly, her voice strung with glee. "Do you… love him?"

The words dropped like a stone into still water, and the ripples were immediate.

Natasha was motionless. Her mouth opened for a single heartbeat, but no noise escaped. Her eyes widened in surprise, then snapped to the side as if seeking escape. A faint shiver brushed her lips before she grimaced through a trembling smile and waved her hand with the near-childhood gesture of dismissal.

No, no, sister! It's not… it's not like that!" Her words fumbled, pitched higher than normal, revealing her tension. "I—I just… respect him. That's all."

Natty leaned back just a little, observing with subdued amusement. Her mouth lifted higher at the corner.

"I am your big sister," she replied, voice level but slicing right through the front. "So say it to me. Every time you speak of that man, you smile like an idiot. Do you even know you're doing it?"

The words hit harder than Natasha had anticipated. Her chest constricted. Her smile wavered.

She attempted to laugh, but the note cracked half way through. A hand rose to sweep back her short hair, concealing the sudden flush rising in her cheeks. But the truth gnawed within her—why did she smile whenever Leon's name was mentioned? Why did her heart pound, even now, whenever she thought of him?

Did she love him? Or was it admiration? Desire? A craving for revenge along with him?

She didn't know.

But her silence was answer enough.

Natty saw it clearly. She let her teasing expression soften into something tender. She leaned in slightly, lowering her gaze as if granting mercy.

"You don't need to answer, Natasha," she whispered. Her smile was gentle now, carrying both knowing and love. "I already understand."

The words pierced through Natasha's chest like a blade slipped between armor. Her eyes widened again, her breath catching.

What are you even talking about, sis? Stop it!" she spat out, though her voice cracked midway. A flush stained her pale cheeks, and she waved her hands awkwardly, as if trying to swat away the truth like an annoying fly.

Natty chuckled quietly, shaking her head. "So easily flustered…

"D-Don't tease me like that," Natasha grumbled, turning away. Her fists clenched and unclenched as her composure frayed in a way only her sister could bring about.

But then, possibly to distract herself, she jerked upright.

"Fine, that's enough," Natasha said curtly, though her blush revealed her otherwise.

She dug into her storage ring, her fingers brushing against something she had prepared. Her face set with sudden seriousness.

"Here."

A small package appeared in her hand—wrapped in simple cloth, tied with a thin thread. She pressed it firmly into Natty's palms.

"This is for you," Natasha said, voice lower now. "I can't stay long. But I promise… I'll come back soon. And this time—" Her dark eyes burned with determination. "This time I'll free you, no matter what it takes."

The words tumbled out quickly, hot, as if she feared if she hesitated, the promise would overwhelm her.

Natasha whirled before Natty could speak.

"Wait—"

But her sister was already in motion. She strode across the room with a silent, lightning-fast ease, her boots barely dragging on the marble floor. She approached the grand arched window, her dark bob moving against her cheek. Without breaking stride, she leapt.

The curtains were blown wildly with the burst of air, moonlight pouring over the vacant area where she had been. And then—poof. Disappeared into darkness.

The room was quiet once more.

Natty remained stock-still, the package held tightly in her grasp. She blinked slowly, her lips twisting into a tiny, futile smile. A soft laugh rattled free from her throat.

"That girl…" she muttered to herself, shaking her head. "Always in such a hurry."

Her eyes dropped to the bundle of cloth. She stroked her thumb over the coarse material, her heart surprisingly warm. Curiosity tickled her chest, combined with that warmth. What was Natasha carrying?

She pulled gently at the knot, untying the package.

The instant the cloth pulled back, a surge of scent filled the room.

Sweet. Savory. Rich.

Natty's eyes widened. Her breath hitched as the scent wrapped around her, making her stomach clench with a hunger she had long forgotten.

Inside lay neatly wrapped meat buns, their golden skin glistening faintly with oil, still holding a trace of warmth from wherever Natasha had stolen them.

For a long moment, Natty simply stared. She could hardly believe it.

Then gradually, her lips opened into a quivering smile. Her fingers extended, fine as ever, and plucked one up. The bun was soft, its weight heavy, its aroma heady.

She held it close, breathing deeply. Her eyes welled with sudden tears.

"…Natasha," she breathed, her voice on the verge of cracking.

She took a bite of the bun.

Flavor burst across her tongue—juicy meat, savory broth, tender dough. It was so rich, so alive compared to the scraps she had been fed for years, that her knees nearly buckled. A soft sound escaped her lips, halfway between a sigh and a sob.

She chewed slowly, savoring every bite, every drop of juice, every shred of warmth that seemed to seep into her chest.

Looking up to the window, she smiled through her tearful eyes.

"Thank you, Natasha… for this meat bun."

Her voice was gentle, but it held a lifetime of love.