Supreme Spouse System.
Chapter 189: A New Harmony

Chapter 189: A New Harmony

A New Harmony

The gentle buzz of morning had dissipated into sunlight streaming in through stained-glass windows, casting gold shapes across the highly polished marble floor of the manor.

Descending the grand staircase from its top, Leon started his way down—not as the man just thrown out of his room, but as the Duke of Moonstone.

Gone were the loose comfort of bedclothes. Instead, he now donned his formal robe—midnight black with tasteful gold trim that shone in the light as he walked. The high collar set off his commanding stance, and fitted cuffs sparkled at his wrists. Each step made quiet authority sound. Each fold of his cloth whispered prestige.

He seemed kingly. Cutting. A man of rank.

But beneath those piercing eyes, something wasn’t quite right. He wore a faraway look, an unreadable expression—eyes lost to thought, as if shouldering the burden of what wasn’t said seemed. wrong.

He seemed regal—unarguably so. The black and gold robe flowed across his tall physique with ease, his dark locks slicked back to show sharp, elegant features. Handsome, authoritative—he might have been taken for a portrait come to life.

His eyes, though, spoke otherwise.

They were far, unfocused. The accustomed glint of humor had blunted, giving way to something weightier—memories still fluttering from a conversation he had not been permitted to overhear. His brow was slightly creased, his lips pursed into an unspoken line. He moved with dignity, but his silence rang more loudly than ever.

As he stepped out onto the grand stair landing, his footsteps thudding softly on the waxed floor, his eyes swept the expansive living room below.

Unoccupied.

He cocked his head, scanning velvet sofas, gilded corners, and towering windows filled with morning sun.

No maids. No noise. Not even the muffled tread of some far-off footsteps.

"...Odd," he said, one eyebrow rising in slight puzzlement. "Where is everybody?"

He breathed out, running a hand through his hair in an effort to dislodge the residual haze from his thoughts.

"Likely in the kitchen," he said to himself. "Making breakfast preparations, perhaps."

Spinning on his heel, he moved towards the dining hall, the tails of his robe flowing quietly behind him.

Obsidian-black table stretched out beautifully in the light of the crystal chandelier. Fresh flowers held in crystal vases, fruit baskets brought brightness to the setting, and bowls of chilled juices waited in readiness—none of them with so much as a single plate served. No porridge. No bread. Not even a solitary pastry.

At the other end of the table, the head chair—velvet-draped with gold braid—awaited him like a quiet guardian. He settled into it quietly, the carved wood sighing slightly as he shifted into position.

His fingertips tapped softly against the edge of the table.

He forced himself to be here, but his gaze kept straying up to the staircase behind him.

They’re still upstairs.

Neither Rias nor the others had descended. And Nova. she hadn’t appeared.

A restive tension swelled in his chest. "What in the world could they possibly be talking about for so long?" he growled under his breath.

He knew his wives well enough to recognize when something was simmering. And Nova—she was wildfire in silk. Elegant, poised. but perilously volatile when roused.

But he trusted them. That wasn’t the issue.

It was the waiting that ate at him.

Daydreaming, he hardly heard the footsteps approaching until they bounced back at him a little past the door.

Click ~ Clack.

He jerked his head around—and hesitated.

A girl of not more than twenty appeared in the doorway to the dining area, her breath suspended midway up her chest, lips open in soft shock. She seemed not to have anticipated finding him there. Light from the morning streamed across her face, warming the gentle curve of her cheek as she moved forward with subtle ease.

Her dark hair cascaded over her shoulders like silk, the ends just reaching her waist. A few tendrils stuck to her face, outlined a pair of shiny black eyes under finely curved brows. She had smooth, pale skin that glowed softly under the soft chandelier light. A faint pink coloring lay across her cheeks, as if she’d rushed to get there.

But it was the uniform that arrested his attention.

A well-tailored black-and-white maid uniform clung to her curves with refined accuracy. The blouse, modest, against her full breast rose and fell with each respiration. The skirt clung to the waist tightly, swaying in her walking, the hem of skirt skid gives him some teasing glance of the tops of her thighs. She halted inches short of him, bowed respectully, and gave a little nervous smile.

It was Mira, one of the mansion’s housemaids.

She blinked in surprise upon seeing him, then quickly offered a warm, apologetic smile.

"Oh! My Lord—I didn’t notice you’d come downstairs," she said, bowing respectfully.

As she bent forward, her breast bounced slightly, the motion making Leon cough awkwardly.

Leon tactfully turned his gaze away from the generous sight her movement provided before it held on for too long. He gave a slight, humorous smile. "Don’t apologize, Mira. I simply came down a little early, that’s all."

Mira stiffened, her cheeks flushed with pink, but her face remained radiant. "Still, I apologize once more, my lord."

Leon nodded but didn’t pursue it further. His tone gentled as he asked, "By the way, where’s your sister today?"

Mira’s face brightened. "Fey is in the storage room sorting supplies. Lena, Rui, and Mona are outside taking care of the garden—watering the flower beds and cutting back the hedges."

"Diligent as always," Leon murmured, settling back a little, a hint of approval in his voice.

Mira glowed with the compliment, and then faltered. "Do you want me to serve breakfast now?"

Leon’s mouth opened to reply—but he hesitated.

Footsteps sounded from the stairs, accompanied by the soft ripple of laughter. He turned involuntarily towards the noise—and the air caught in his throat.

Six women were descending the sweeping staircase, moving with the poise and authority of royals reborn.

Rias blazed the trail, her fiery red and black dress sticking to her with flamboyant assurance, every step she took fierce and uncompromising. Alongside her, Cynthia floated like a vision in a flowing blue and cream dress, her eyes glinting with demure mischief. Aria glowed in violet and white, her poise calm and unshakable. Syra shone in gold and mint green, her smile shining bright, mischievous. Kyra in back of her, clothed in dark green with golden edging, a forest queen brought to life and walking with proud and poised steps.

But at the center of it all... walked Nova.

No gown covered her.

Instead, she dressed in her Duchess style: high-waisted, skintight leather pants that clung to her hips, pulled into gleaming black boots. A forest green top hugged her body, half-concealed under a black leather jacket slung over her shoulders. Silver chains hung from her pant waist, reflecting the light with every step, an elegant pendant swinging back and forth—a silent badge of strength and status.

She did not require silk to command attention.

She was steel tempered in fire. Royal. Authoritative. Invulnerable.

Mira’s breath hung next to him. "Who...?" she breathed in Dhérat, her eyes wide with wonder. The figure standing before her was breathtaking—tragically beautiful in a way that took the wind from the space.

Leon said nothing. He did not shift. He simply stood.

They were stunning.

All six women approached him with silent self-assurance, their footsteps light but certain. On the other side, even Mira, who knew all the souls in the mansion, remained speechless. The unknown woman among them—blindingly lovely, self-possessed, queenly—was unlike anyone she’d ever seen. Mira knew better than to say a word. She went down on one knee and stepped back, melting silently into the background.

The group’s laughter dissipated as they entered the dining hall. Individually, each stepped in with a practiced poise that did not require introduction.

Rias moved to sit to the right of Leon and did so with effortless authority. Aria sat to the left of him. Syra and Kyra stepped up, folding into their habitual positions, and Cynthia sat beside Rias with an elegant nod.

Nova was still standing alone.

Her steps had paused just before the table. She hesitated, unsure, a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes.

Leon tilted his head, puzzled. He started to speak. "Nova—"

But before he could finish, Rias gently cut in, her voice soft yet firm with the weight of quiet command.

"Sister Nova, please—sit beside Cynthia."

It wasn’t a suggestion. But it wasn’t cold, either. Her tone was smooth, respectful... and resolute.

Leon blinked. That tone...?

Nova hesitated for the beat of a heart. Then, with a soft sigh, nodded and gave a small, dignified smile.

"Of course."

She glided to the vacant chair next to Cynthia and sat down, hands folded in her lap.

Leon’s gaze did not track her. Rather, it stayed on Rias.

That tone she’d employed—gentle, yet resolute. Authoritative, even. Rias was always daring, that much wasn’t new. But she seldom utilized that very tone. Not with the other girls. Not unless she was commanding them during pivotal situations.

As first wife, Rias naturally had a position of leadership among them. But she hardly ever used it in so open a manner.

And what surprised Leon even more—was Nova.

Nova, the Moonstone Duchess. A woman who bowed to none. She did not take orders, she issued them.

But here she was... listening. Not reluctantly. Not grudgingly. But voluntarily.

It was not submission—it was respect.

Leon leaned back in his chair, taciturn, contemplative.

His eyes wandered from one woman to another, noting the slight cues: Cynthia’s soft smile of silent approbation. Syra, humming softly with a twinkle in her eye. Kyra, arms folded, slouching back with a playful smirk playing on her lips.

Something had occurred upstairs. Something greater than a mere conversation.

He didn’t know what, but he sensed it in the air—a change, slight but definite.

He didn’t utter a word. It wasn’t his place to meddle with how his wives connected.

But even so.

Something had shifted. Something not said.

And Leon, was more curious than ever.