Eyes shifted—all of them—at once to the sweeping entrance, waiting for the arrival of one man.
The people had anticipated being impressed—he was a legend, after all. But what caught their breath up was not the sweeping grandeur of his entrance... it was who was with him.
One word sliced through the air like a shard of glass.
It spread from noble to noble, borne in shocked whispers, stifled gasps, and open-mouthed incredulity.
"Did the announcer announce wives?"
"But... he’s not married..."
"They say he spurned every noble offer—even offers from other kingdoms!"
kingdom noble daughter proposal also!
"Did he wed in secret?!"
A wave of gasps surged. Whispers became murmurs, then stifled panic.
Everyone in the Kingdom of Galvia knew of Duke Leon—some revered him, others resented him—but everyone was aware of him as a man unshackled. A living legend. The warrior who came out of fire and steel, danced between kingdoms with wit keener than any sword. He’d been wooed by empresses, bedded by duchesses, and still stayed notoriously single. Unapologetically alone.
And as the nobles faced the staircase, many felt their world shift ever so slightly off its axis.
Because along with Leon, walking in stately rhythm, were not one—but several women. Each beautiful, graceful, and radiant in a manner that could not be confused for mere guests or consorts. They weren’t ornaments.
And the whole court was aware of it.
Among the murmuring throng, one man remained immobile—his goblet still, his shadow stretching long across the lantern-lit floor.
He stared at Leon. His stance relaxed, his lips curled into what seemed a warm, inviting smile.
But beneath the honed look, his jaw clenched. His shoulders locked.
His fingers quivered under the folds of his regal blue sleeve.
That bloody son of a bitch.
He always stole the moment. Always showed up when the world was watching. Always took what others created.
Edric’s smile never wavered.
But within, a tempest cracked open.
He didn’t move. He didn’t speak.
Yet the name boomed in his chest.
But he was shocked too.
What he did know—what everybody knew—was that Leon was unmarried. Yes, rumors had circulated that he brought a woman with him to the kingdom... perhaps two. But Edric had pushed them aside. He believed they were nothing more than side affairs. Whispers. Distractions.
Leon was meant to be a bachelor. A symbol of self-control. A rival, yes—but a remote one. A legend. Not.
Not a man with wives.
Not a man of power, and love, and peace in his eyes.
And now. he was strolling in like the sun itself had decided to walk behind him.
Edric didn’t budge. He didn’t draw too much breath. He just stood, smile frozen on his face like the mask that it always was, while inside, jealousy tore at his lungs like flames.
Then, the sound of footsteps shattered the silence.
Heads turned. Conversations lapsed. Edric didn’t even dare breathe.
And through the dramatic portal of the royal hall, he came.
Wearing a billowy robe of dark midnight blue threaded with gold, his figure was one of royalty and authority. On the cloth, embroidered in delicate yet shining patterns, were phoenix feathers—delicate yet luminous—each of them sewn over with glittering fire-thread that glowed like coals under the brilliance of a thousand chandeliers. At his chest, the gold insignia of House Moonwalker shone like a crest of legend. His hair, long and neatly bound at the back, reflected the light with each step, setting off his sharply angled face with unconscious beauty. And those eyes—those legendary golden eyes—so calm, so deadly, so hypnotic. They swept the hall with the power of unspoken command, shining like sunlight hammered into steel.
He appeared unstained by pressure. Unbowed by politics. A lion among men.
But it wasn’t him alone who caused the world to stand still.
Following him was a line of brilliance—every step redefining the measure of grace.
Rias, enveloped in crimson satin, her fiery eyes burning behind dainty lashes. Her daughterly pride blazing brighter than any gem at the hall.
Aria, sensual and elegant, donned a violet dress that clung to her frame like sin itself, every movement an enticement.
Cynthia, ethereal in white and black silk, glided with the delicacy of a prayer and the power of ice.
Syra, radiant in gold and green, laughed as if the world could never tame her. Free. Alive. Fiercely lovely.
Kyra, emerald regal, stood poised like a sword wrapped in silk—keen, quiet, and formidable.
And last but not least, Mia, in a pale blue royal gown, her sweet presence noble. Though young in years, she stood tall like a future queen. She strolled alongside Rias, the two whispering something that made them titter like sisters sharing a secret.
Leon and his woman glided as if heaven had opened and poured divinity into mortal flesh. Nobles gasped. Others were so struck they forgot to blink. The magnetism was blinding—first, their beauty, of course, but the oneness, the pride in their footsteps, the way they trailed after him.
Leon. A man who was once presumed to be alone. Surrounded by goddesses now.
Some men braved looking too long... but soon averted their eyes. They knew—if they were found gawking at the duke’s wives, the cost would not be words. The cost would be blood.
The noblewomen, however, remained mute.
Married or single, shy or proud—it didn’t matter. Their hearts skipped a beat as their gazes met Leon. The man they’d whispered about, some even dreamed of... now seemed as far away as a star. His poise made Edric, once the crown jewel of admiration, no better than a frog in the presence of a god.
And the women standing beside Leon...
They were off-limits.
Each noblewoman’s heart stung a little. Because however sleek their gowns, however flawless their cosmetics, none of them—none—compared to the ones who followed behind him.
Yet desire hung in the air. A combustible, delicate craving. Because even as they knew they could never have him, they still craved him.
Leon and the women saw, naturally. How could they not?
The stolen glances. The jealous whispers. The silent daggers cast by eyes too proud to concede defeat.
But they didn’t waver.
Rias and other woman, in particular, caught the envy in every woman’s glance and held her chin slightly higher. But they stood like they didn’t care about them and Rias, Aria, Cynthia, Kyra, and Syra? They didn’t need to say a word. Their posture, their smirks—they all were saying the same thing.
"He’s ours. Always was."
Even Mia, new and slightly reserved in group and not his wife, walked with the quiet confidence of belonging among them.
Leon, meanwhile, smiled only. He gloated not. He mocked not. He simply leaned slightly in to his wives and spoke in a voice low enough for only their ears to catch:
"Let’s go, my loves."
They nodded. The crowd of people parted in silence.
No one was bold enough to stop them. No man was bold enough to edge too close—not when the women on either side of Leon exuded such commanding beauty. Their beauty wasn’t purely physical—it was perilous. The kind that would leave marks if you reached too far.
The noblewomen did not dare to go near either. Not because of fear, but something worse—comparison. Because at that moment, even the most gorgeous among them felt like shadows. Not because they were not beautiful, but because beside those five...
They lacked presence.
Leon and his party discovered a secluded corner beside a terrace, where golden light filtered in through stained glass. A servant poured wine; Leon took one with a nod, passing the glasses to the women before raising his own.
They started talking. Gently. Quietly. As if this evening was nothing at all.
But on the other side of the hall, Edric remained stock-still.
He smiled, naturally. He had to. For appearances.
But within... he was growing old by the second.
How in the world did this son of a bitch get these women?
And what infuriated him most—what actually stung—was the sight of his own daughter, Mia. The reserved, aloof girl who used to go out of her way not to even speak to him, her own father, now laughing—laughing—along with him.
He gritted his teeth, struggling to keep his face expressionless.
He would not lose his facade tonight.
And then, whispers whispered past his ears.
"Isn’t she the daughter of Duke Starlight? Young Miss Mia?"
"What is she doing with Duke Leon’s entourage?"
"She’s not one of his wives, is she?"
"Don’t you know? Young Miss Mia is the close friend of Duke Leon’s daughter, Rias. They’ve been friends since they were little."
"Ohhh... that makes sense."
Forced his grin bigger. Considered approaching them. Considered talking.
But the music changed.
A silence fell upon the crowd.
A new figure materialized.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the announcer boomed, voice echoing clear. "Our last—but far from least—arrival of the night: the Duchess of Nova Dukedom. The kingdom’s most ferocious and feminine war commander. A woman dreaded by enemy monarchs and beloved by our own.
Duchess Nova of House Nova."
Every breath was stopped.
Leon and his friends craned their heads.
And everyone’s gaze moved to the sweeping staircase—anticipating.