Supreme Spouse System.
Chapter 215: A Merchant’s Gift, A Daughter’s Gaze

Chapter 215: A Merchant’s Gift, A Daughter’s Gaze

A Merchant’s Gift, A Daughter’s Gaze

"Enjoy yourselves, sweethearts." Leon grinned as he spoke to the group of women sitting in a circle around him, his tone warm and sprinkled with easy charm.

The women replied

with a blend of amusement and affection—Rias raised a playful brow, her smirk provocative. Syra returned a dignified nod, her gaze lingering an extra moment. Cynthia’s glance sparkled with sly understanding, Nova lifting her glass with careless elegance, a wordless salute to his words.

"You too, darling," Aria exclaimed, her voice flirtatious as a wink tagged along with her words. Next to her, Mia tilted her head a little way, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, a tender and shy smile spreading across her face.

Syra, always calm, added a wink of her own, a soft promise in her look.

Leon smiled to himself, the edge of his lip rising into a skewed grin. His eyes grew warm with unspoken tenderness as he glanced over them again. Then, without pause, he emptied his wine glass, drinking the remaining wine in one smooth, practiced gesture.

A passing servant stepped forward as he turned. Leon, gliding with the ease of a dancer, placed the vacant glass on the tray and took a new one without loss of step.

He started to walk—measured and deliberate—his steps drawing him back from the warmth of the crowd into the chill of the outer wall, toward the balcony where the night wind whispered.

But even as he moved, he could sense it. That look.

It hadn’t departed from him.

A presence—silent, vigilant, and unmistakably familiar—gazed at him with unblinking eyes from a distance.

Still dart at him.

Unwavering. Inquisitive. Familiar.

The ballroom swirled about him in music, conversation, and laughter. Nobles danced in formal couples. Wine flowed lavishly. But for Leon, they dissolved into the background. His eyes remained fixed on one location—the balcony, where a certain presence overshadowed the beauty of the whole hall.

With silent determination, he pushed forward, slipping through the murmuring mass and golden haze of chandeliers, each step drawing him closer to that otherworldly silhouette.

But just as he reached the corner of the dance floor, a call went out from his left.

"Duke Leon!"

He stopped, turning slowly towards the caller, his face calm but with a hint of curiosity.

Standing beside them was a high-ranking nobleman, possibly in his late fifties, with smooth silver-streaked hair and onyx-dark eyes. Beside him was a young woman, her arm casually draped around his. She was stunning—her dark hair braided loose and flowing down one shoulder, and her dress, a work of art of black and sapphire silk, glimmering with fine silver embroidery in the light of the chandelier. Her lines were fine and poised, as if an artist’s hands had sculpted them, but there was a softness in her moonlit beauty.

Leon watched the two for a moment. Although the man’s face roused a spark of recognition, he couldn’t quite put his finger on him.

The nobleman made a polite bow, his manner refined. "Good evening, Lord Leon," he said, voice silky and measured.

Leon’s eyebrow had risen a fraction of an inch. ".Forgive me. Do I know you?"

The man’s smile grew, as though he had expected the query. A humorous chuckle passed from his lips as he replied, "Maybe not personally, but my firm has flourished years at your noble buying."

Leon leaned forward a fraction, contemplating. The name had evoked a far-off memory.

"I am John," the man went on, his voice warm and assertive, "proprietor of the Black Gold Trading Company." With a gracious wave, he indicated the young woman beside him. "And this is my daughter, Rose."

Leon provided a courteous nod, his mind ticking with familiarity. "Black Gold Company..." he repeated. "Ah, yes. Now I recall. Your store in Silver City. I bought some baubles for my wives—and others."

John’s eyes sparkled knowingly. "And for Princess Lira and Queen Sona, too," he continued, a flirtatious smile playing on his lips.

Leon accepted the point with a slight smirk, his eyes briefly flicking to Rose.

She moved forward with accustomed elegance and curtsied, her voice calm but gentle. "It’s an honor to meet you, Duke Leon."

"The honor is mine," Leon said, his voice filled with refined charm.

John’s smile grew. "Thanks to your acquisition, our company realized more than half of its annual profit in one day. I’ve always desired to thank you personally."

Leon smiled softly, brushing away the compliment with easy modesty. "I just purchased what appealed to me. You’re a merchant; I was just a shopper."

"Despite that," Rose supplemented softly, smiling with a warmth that was both true and poised, "you brought us great wealth. It would be ingratitude not to acknowledge our gratitude.

Leon gave her a respectful nod, a trace of a smile tugging at his lips. Yet even as he responded, his gaze flicked once more toward the balcony. That lingering presence—he could still feel it watching him.

Neither John nor Rose seemed to notice the subtle shift in his focus.

John continued without pause. "We won’t take up much of your time, but please accept this."

With practiced flair, he pulled out a golden card from his storage ring and held out both hands to Leon.

Leon lifted an eyebrow as he accepted the slim black card between his fingers. It glowed softly under the light of the lanterns, the tasteful etching on its face catching his attention:

Black Gold Company – VVIP Access

"With this card," Lord John said suavely, "you’ll get half price on any purchase at any of our offices across the kingdom."

Leon examined the weight and metal sheen of the card, sensing the subtle authority it conveyed. "That’s very gracious," he said, his tone even. Then, with a fractional nod of his head, he added, "I thank you for your kindness, Lord John. But tell me—why be so lavish?"

John gave a modest smile. "Just a little token of appreciation, my lord. A gesture to thank you."

Leon maintained his scrutiny. The reply had seemed authentic, but there was an practiced smoothness to it, as if a merchant who’d practiced his sales line a dozen times.

I daresay some day we can be friends, Duke Leon," John went on, his smile slightly wider. "Simply, nothing more than good intentions... and perhaps"—he glanced, almost unnoticed, at his daughter— "a desire to establish friendly connections."

Leon’s eyes narrowed, not with suspicion, but calculation. He revealed nothing—his face was polite, controlled. He did not answer in words, preferring silence, as silence could speak the loudest.

Sliding the card into the inside fold of his robe, Leon gave a short nod. "Then thank you for the gift, Lord John. Excuse me—I have others to meet tonight. If you please."

John inclined his head in polite manner. "Of course, Lord Leon."

Leon smiled weakly, a polite farewell smile that showed no more than politeness. "I hope to see you again soon, Lord John. And I do thank you—indeed—for the card."

He began to move away, his footsteps effortless, but before he could walk more than a few steps, John’s voice came out for the third time.

"Oh—and one final question, if I might?

Leon stopped half-turn, his body continuing in the direction of the exit. He looked back, his tone even. "Yes?"

John’s dark eyes sparkled with something more than curiosity and curious ambition. "Do you intend taking any new wives, or are you happy with the ones you have?"

The question fell like an unexpected wind slicing through the stagnant evening. Leon’s eyebrows rose, if but momentarily. He blinked, once. The two of them stood there in silence for a sharp, deliberate moment.

Then his eyes darted between John’s stern smile and the frozen form of Rose. She stood at her father’s elbow, her stance erect, but her eyes—those piercing, intent eyes—were locked on Leon alone. Her look held longer than etiquette demanded, as though unwritten meanings churned behind them, meanings she wouldn’t speak aloud.

Was this a hidden offer? Or was it a subtle test buried in gracious courtesy?

Leon quieted the flash of feeling that had almost risen to the surface. His thoughts, honed from years of political maneuvering, shifted swiftly. Whatever this was, he couldn’t let his guard down yet. A small, inscrutable smile bunched his lips before he spoke, his tone even and silky as a pre-dawn lake.

"Honestly, Lord John... I haven’t decided."

He left it there. A neutral response, one that revealed nothing. After all, how could he be making such choices now, when the road ahead called for more than mere choices? When his fate was intertwined with the construction of a enormous harem—one that called for strategy, timing, and command?

John nodded several slow, deliberate times, his face impassive. "Good to know. Until next time we meet, Lord Leon."

He bowed graciously.

Rose’s head tilted in one last, elegant movement. She turned silently to take her father, disappearing with him into the churning mass of nobility, their dark shapes engulfed by velvet dresses, golden thread, and muffled speech.

Leon stood frozen, his face contemplative as the silence of the meeting hung over him.

What was that all about...?

He winced slightly, and then shook his head. Never mind. Some other time. This was not the time to indulge in political conundrums or lingering glances.

There was someone else he had to see.

And yet, even as he spun around, he felt the pressure of another’s gaze come softly against his spine—one much more intimate than any that had been shared on the floor of the ballroom.

With no hesitation, Leon turned and started walking. Every step was fluid and measured, boots making not a sound on the polished marble. In his hand, the wine shone dimly under the golden glow of the chandelier, the remnants picking up glints of passing jewels and flames of candles.

The music receded behind him into a faraway hum as he walked toward the open balcony. Past the filigreed archway, moonlight flowed over the stone terrace, bathing all in soft silver light.

There, under moon and sky, stood a lone figure.

A woman.

Her shape was beautiful, shrouded in an off-shoulder black dress that hugged like darkness itself. A wine glass dangled between her fingertips, a little tilted, catching moonlight as if it too adored her. The wind stirred a lock of hair, and the moon, in its possessive manner, touched her bare shoulders with light softer than any hand.

Leon halted.

For an instant only, the world was silent.

And then—she turned.

Their eyes collided across the balcony, bright and intense, as if the space between them had instantly become thinner. Within the flash of recognition, something moved in Leon’s chest—an emotion he hadn’t anticipated experiencing tonight. Surprise, flavored with something richer... older.

His eyebrows rose, ever so slightly.

"...You?" he whispered.

The figure stood with unhurried, fluid poise. She didn’t have to hurry. Her presence demanded patience.

Her dark violet dress shone like liquid silk, the hem catching the faint sheen of moonlight. She carried the wine glass with practiced ease, the crimson liquid inside untasted, yet somehow, irresistibly intoxicating.

Her eyes did not waver. Steadfast. Aware.

Leon moved forward. The quiet sound of his boots on marble was faintly echoed, and the shadows grew out behind him, long and purposeful, like whispers of destiny.

"Huh," he grumbled, to himself really. "It’s you?"

She cocked her chin a fraction, looking sideways at him. A tiny, conspiratorial smile danced on her mouth.

"Waiting for someone else, my lord?"

Her voice lay over the night like a soft velvet, smooth and hanging. Every word weighed heavily, as if she counted them before spilling them out.

She drank her wine without wavering her gaze.

Leon didn’t respond.

He didn’t have to.

He knew exactly who she was—

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