Supreme Spouse System.
Chapter 200: Beauty. Power. Nova

Chapter 200: Beauty. Power. Nova

Beauty. Power. Nova

But the music changed.

Muted strings hung suspended mid-note. A silence crept out like a velvet cloak across the great court—not sudden, not shocked, but slow, like a breath caught in anticipation of revelation. Laughter died. Whispers ceased.

All were aware of it.

Someone was coming.

Each eye turned, each heart leaned toward the stairs—grasped as if by invisible gravity.

Then the announcer’s voice called out, clear and authoritative, cutting through the stillness like a knife:

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome the coming of the kingdom’s greatest flame, its most ravishing beauty—the war goddess of the western front. Feared by enemy kings, commanders, and generals in every land... beloved by her people...

The Duchess of Nova Dukedom.

Duchess Nova of House Nova."

Silence.

The instant the last syllable dissipated, it seemed as though the air itself remembered not how to breathe.

An intoxicated gasp passed through the gathering, ruffling like air across glass.

Even Edric—icy, stoic Edric—stagnated one step short, his wineglass suspended mere inches from his lips.

His obsidian gaze, keen and unwavering, fixed on the doorway.

Leon, who stood close by the balustraded terrace amidst beauty and warmth, slowly faced about.

Rias, Aria, Cynthia, Syra, Kyra—and even Mia—raised their eyes, feeling the tension in the air. A quiet fell over the crowd like the wind before a storm.

They knew.

All attention was focused on the entrance.

The sweeping staircase bracketed the garden’s edge like a proscenium stage, candlelit and golden. From its golden-arched portal, a sound echoed:

Click. Clack. Click. Clack.

Heels on marble—measured, confident, unhurried. Every step reverberated through the velvet-clad night like a countdown.

And then she emerged.

Emerging from the sweeping entrance of the banquet courtyard like a vision chiseled from starlight—Nova.

She had long black hair flowing behind her like a silken shadow, falling in soft waves down her back. Green eyes, sharp, glinting beneath long lashes like moonlit kissing-glass in the forest. High cheekbones, elegant jawline. Pale skin, but with a healthy shine. Wine-red lips softly painted didn’t have to open for the crowd to become completely silent.

She was dressed in a flowing dress of deep midnight blue-green, embroidered with silver vines and sapphire stones that glinted in the lanternlight. A slit ran up one leg—tasteful but bold—giving the promise of sculpted thigh. The bodice hugged her like a vow, fierce and regal. A duchess. A warrior. A flame.

Her step was confident. Authoritative. Each stride fell like a drumbeat—measured, deliberate, and unbearably elegant.

But not only her loveliness astounded them.

It was her presence.

And the crowd became silent, moved by worship. Not a breath. Not a whisper.

Not a single clinking of glass.

Because all the men in the courtyard sensed it when she entered—that unseen tug on the heart. That inexplicable pain. That wild, longing hunger. The urge to pursue. or kneel.

And yet, no one dared move.

Except Leon.

He stood by the fountain balcony, wine in his hand, six stunning women surrounding him—each already the object of half the kingdom’s envy.

But his eye never left.

A gentle smile creased his lips the moment he saw her.

Rias, standing nearest to him, raised a brow and spoke quietly beneath her breath, "There she is."

Aria leaned over, smirking. "He’s totally gone, isn’t he?"

Syra gave a playful sigh. "We’ve lost him to the teal enchantress again."

Yet none of them were bitter. Their eyes held amusement, warmth—because they had seen that look in his eyes before.

A glint of something rare.

Something that only ignited for her.

Nova’s eyes swept over the crowd as she passed, her face as inscrutable as ever. The whispers, the glares—none of it affected her. She shifted her eyes like breeze through stagnant air, unmoved and unfazed.

And then—momentarily—her eyes rested on Edric.

He stopped in mid-step, trapped like prey in moonlight. His breath caught. For an instant, all the pride and pomp that clung to his shoulders appeared to fade away, leaving behind something raw. Hunger. Regret. Or maybe, the pain of something always beyond his reach.

Nova’s lips curled, not into a smile, but something harder. The flash in her eyes wasn’t soft acknowledgment.

It was revulsion.

Barely there. Held in check by a beat. Swapped for a cool, detached calm so rehearsed it seemed regal.

Almost nobody saw. Almost.

But Leon did. And so did the women who stood near him.

Then her eyes went on—drifting sea Nobel people—until they latched onto him.

Leon.

She hesitated.

They exchanged glances. Time caught its breath.

Leon lifted his glass a fraction; a silent toast wrapped in the sweep of his fingers and the hint of a smile.

And Nova. smiled back.

It wasn’t practiced or polite. It wasn’t a duchess’s smile.

It was Nova.

She shone. She was bold. She was undeniably feminine. A smile that should’ve been banned near the light of fire.

A second hush swept over crowd—not out of respect, but something more profound.

Awe.

This was no smile.

She was a storm deciding where to hit.

And then—she stepped forward. Effortlessly.

The crowd moved out of her way, not out of order. but instinct.

And Nova moved through them—gracious, untouchable, divine.

Like an incarnate goddess.

Heads turned. Chats cut off in mid-sentence. A couple of men staggered in his rush to move aside, eyes aghast, entranced. Dignified ladies froze, breath stuck in their throats. Some attempted to smile, only to falter under the burden of hers—a smile that didn’t ask permission, merely declared her presence.

Whispers burst like firecrackers behind silk gloves.

"Is that... Duchess Nova?"

"The one they call the jewel of the kingdom?"

"She’s more beautiful than the gossip had her to be."

"No—keener. Like a sword in velvet. Observe those eyes."

"She has the stride of a commander, but moves with the elegance of a true Nobel lady."

Awe blended with admiration. The atmosphere changed. Then—

A more critical gasp.

"She’s headed straight to... to Duke Leon."

"What? Why Duke Leon?"

"Do they... know one another?"

"Could it be politics?"

"Or an alliance?"

"Or..." —scandalous hesitation— "something else?"

"Didn’t she once vow never to wed?"

"I heard she turned down more than a dozen dukes..."

"And yet... behold her now."

"She’s smiling. At him."

"My cousin with the palace guard—they said the two clashed in private in Royal Training Arena a few days ago. Alone."

"Who prevailed?"

"Nobody knows. Nobody’s saying."

"...What if he defeated her? Not just at war... but at something much larger?"

The whispers agitated like parched leaves under the weight of expectation—tenuous, disseminated, perilous. Among the aristocrats, envy brewed.

A noblewoman spat through gritted teeth, "That woman might wear a sack of burlap and look better than the rest of us are like scenery."

"Perhaps she is just another victory," another said scornfully.

But a man standing nearby snorted in mirth. "Conquest? Ha. That duchess has rejected more men than I have fingers. If she’s walking to Leon... it’s because she wanted to."

A few brazen noblewomen attempted to regain their dignity—flicking nonexistent lint from silk sleeves, hinting at adjustment in posture and bosom.

Some noblesmen, on the other hand, looked in the direction of Leon—silent, seething.

But none of them had the courage to verbalize their envy.

The murmurs were dry leaves beneath her feet. Delicate. Scattered. Hazardous.

Nova didn’t care about any of them.

She walked with the loose-honed fluidity of a woman who knew that she was being observed—and didn’t care.

She stepped across the courtyard.

Edric’s shoulders gave a slow tense creak with each step she took.

Because now, she was close.

Too close.

And yet she didn’t even look his way.

She slid past him like a darkness moving over stone—because she wasn’t for him.

She was walking to the man who stood just behind him.

Leon.

He hadn’t budged. His golden eyes had been on her since the moment she arrived—serene, unwavering, like a lion tracking the wind ruffling its queen.

Nova arrived at the group.

Leon moved forward, just a little, as if pulled by a form of instinct. His eyes swept over her from crown to toe—not with hunger, but with something more. Something that only belonged to them.

When Nova halted in front of him, her dress fluttering in the air like a secret shared on the wind, he smiled.

Then, in tones so low that only their little group would have heard, he spoke,

"You look absolutely breathtaking, my love."

Nova’s cheeks flushed into the barest rose—but her voice did not waver. Her green eyes went soft when they met his.

"And you," she whispered back, "look intolerably handsome, Leon."

A warm laugh escaped his mouth, one that was gentle and intimate.

Rias sat forward in her deep red satin, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Sister Nova... I mean it. You look far too pretty in that dress. Nearly cheating. Much prettier than your regular duchess wear."

Nova’s gaze dropped to the smooth, close-fitting silk draping her body, then back up again, this time with a fleeting, natural smile.

"Thank you, Sister Rias. And you’re looking lovely too."

Rias tittered, clearly gratified.

"Aww, you’re sweet. Compliments from the ice duchess herself—I’ll treasure it."

Nova gave a graceful nod, then turned her gaze to the others standing beside them.

She nodded to Aria first—curvy and calm in flowing violet; then to Cynthia—peaceful and statuesque in layered monochrome silk; to Syra—glowing with a striking gold and green outfit; to Kyra—icy and authoritative in dark emerald; and to Mia, wearing soft blue, who met Nova’s look with a modest but proud smile.

Nova’s gaze shifted from Aria’s teasing smile to Cynthia’s soft nod, then to Syra’s mischievous grin, Kyra’s poised stillness, and finally, Mia’s softly radiant being.

"And all of you," Nova’s voice held warmth, "are beautifully looking."

She hesitated, her eyes resting briefly on each of them before she concluded with soft sincerity,

"Really, each of you shines brighter than the stars tonight."

Smiles unfurled one by one like spring flowers.

Aria was the first to speak, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

"But now you’re the real showstopper, sister," she purred.

Cynthia leaned in slightly, her voice soft but clear.

"The moon envies your glow tonight."

Kyra, ever poised and graceful, offered a small bow of her head.

"You’ve outshone every woman here tonight, Sister Nova."

Mia, with a smile that held genuine admiration, added,

"Even your silence steals attention."

Syra, sultry as ever, tilted her head.

"Darling would forget that we even exist if you keep gazing like that."

Then Rias had spoken up, a mischievous curl of her lips as she cocked her head. "By any chance, Sister Nova.