Supreme Spouse System.

The Door

"Leon," a hushed voice said respectfully from outside the door.

The stillness within the room elongated and weighty, like glass restraining a tide.

Leon's golden eyes contracted, the relaxation of night giving way to something more alert, something more acute. His fingers stroked through Rias's matted crimson hair, a gentle, absent motion of reassurance, though his thoughts were already elsewhere.

And then… he smiled.

Because that voice wasn't unfamiliar. It was Mia. His Mia.

The voice rang through the wood not like a servant, not like a messenger, but with the gentle uncertainty only she bore when summoning him in the morning.

Leon's chest vibrated with low amusement. "So… even she's here."

But that smile of his, peaceful and confident, wasn't matched by the others.

Around him, fifteen women who had slept in his bed tensed as if the floor had split where they stood. Hair streamed loose across their faces, bare shoulders shone in the subdued light, and suddenly they understood what that voice meant.

Mia.

Not one of the other maids. Not a stranger. One of them. Wife. Sister. Co-heir to Leon's madness.

And yet, at this moment, panic blazed like fire.

Rias threw up her head, her crimson eyes narrowing. Her lips parted, protesting. Aria's hand instinctively went up to her chest, holding the sheets, her dignified composure rattled. Cynthia's peaceful calm snapped into a swift, subdued breath, her dark eyes flying to Leon as if silently demanding: What now?

Syra muttered a curse, piling off his chest in a knot of green hair. Kyra followed, stiffly upright but equally flustered. The maids were the worst — Fey stumbled over Rui as both attempted to reach for the same nightgown, Mira was pushing Mona with frantic whispers, Lena nearly ripped the hem of her dress in her haste.

Nova pushed both hands to her hot face, sneaking a look at Leon through her fingers as if he were guilty of the intrusion. Lilyn murmured softly, hugging the sheets to her chest, and Chloe sat frozen, brown eyes saucer-wide, too innocent to fully comprehend why the others were frightened but instinctively overwhelmed by the commotion.

Leon alone stood unmoving. Naked. Unfazed.

Their alarm, their desperate rushes, brought a low laugh from him. "All of you… flustered, when it's only Mia."

"Only Mia?" Rias spat, scarlet hair falling across her naked shoulders as she yanked on her robe with desperate fingers. "Do you have any idea what it appears?"

"It appears like the truth," Leon said calmly, golden eyes unflinching.

Syra gave him a hard glance. "And you're smiling?"

"Yes," he confirmed, without hesitation. "Because it's her."

Aria's lips drew apart, her purple eyes hardening. "You can't just—"

But Leon held up a hand, quelling them. His voice was even, low, but strong enough to push through the wild rustle of clothing.

No." He smiled weakly. "She is my wife. She understands what this existence is. She is as much a part of this as any of you. And if she's the one knocking." His voice gentled, almost affectionate. ".then she's already amongst this."

The women stopped where they were, half-unclothed, half-encumbered, their faces staring up at him as if he was mad. His golden eyes passed over them, meeting each look with steady defiance.

Then, without sitting up in the bed, still bare in morning sunlight, Leon addressed the door.

"My love. Enter."

A shudder of incredulity swept across the room. His women glared at him with sharp, stabbing glances, silently crying are you mad? But Leon didn't blink. He reclined against the headboard, legs outstretched lazily, completely vulnerable, a king who refused to bend even in the face of his own devastation.

The silence grew. Then—

Click.

The latch released.

Creaaak.

The door creaked open.

A figure entered.

Black hair cascaded like a shroud down her back, black eyes soft and kind, her movements quiet but confident. She wore a plain black dress trimmed with gold lotus embroidery that shone softly in the dawn light. And in her hands, she propelled a trolley — the soft clink of china, the scented steam of tea and hot bread floating behind her.

Mia came in smiling.

Not the demure one she had worn upon entering his life, but the golden, flowering smile of a woman belonging. She propelled the trolley forward, her slender hands firm, her eyes finding Leon first on the bed—then, gradually, crossing the room.

The smell reached her first.

It was heavy in the air. The overpowering musk of sweat, heat, skin — of sex. But underneath it, delicate strands of flowers from the tea she carried intermingled, struggling for room.

She hesitated, nostrils widening as the odor filled her, recognition flashing instantly. Her eyes rose, and her black eyes widened.

Fifteen women.

Some holding their gowns inside out. Some halted in mid-action, robes half-knotted. Others with white faces, caught scrambling.

Mia didn't require words.

Her mouth parted thinly, her breath suspended. She knew. She realized everything in an instant, without anyone needing to explain.

Her eyes scanned once for Chloe and Lilyn—innocent, flushed, though composed. But the others? Aghast. Naked guilt emblazoned on their flesh.

Mia held the handle of the trolley, her black eyes shuddering in shock.

And before anyone could take a step, another voice echoed down the hall.

"Mia? Why do you wait, daughter? Move aside."

All heads turned.

The doorway was crowded with another presence.

Cassidy.

Her black hair swept across one shoulder, her eyes black as the night, her gown sticking to her body. She entered slowly, edging past Mia carefully, her eyes going up—

And froze.

Her breath caught audibly.

Because there was Leon.

Leaning back against the headboard, shirtless, totally naked under the sheets, golden eyes sparkling, half-smile twisting his lips. His body — the same one that had brought her to a moan in the darkness not so long ago — was bared before her once more. His male flesh, still half-erect, heavy across the top of his thigh, a monstrous promise of what it could become.

And in a circle around him, fifteen women.

Some struggling with their dresses, others holding onto the sheets, some standing in half-dressed poses so ridiculous it would have been funny if the atmosphere had not been so charged.

The smell struck Cassidy then, too. Animal. Musky. Irresistible. It hit her lungs, coated the back of her throat. Her mouth fell open with shock, her chest expanded once before she willed it to stop.

Her eyes went wide, dark wells quivering with incredulity.

For an instant, no one stirred.

Only Leon moved.

He smiled. Serene. Unembarrassed. As if this bedlam, this incriminating scene, was merely the morning he had routinely anticipated.