Five minutes before the explosion.
The Moonwalker Estate was calm—quiet, full of that late-night warmth that only settles in when laughter lingers longer than it should and no one wants to say goodnight.
Outside, Silver City slept under a velvet night sky, and inside the estate, inside the grand dining hall, everything glowed. The chandeliers hummed with soft golden light, casting halos over the room like the whole place was caught in a dream. The long table still bore the remains of a feast. Plates pushed back, goblets half-full and forgotten. Fruit bowls sat like centerpieces of abundance no one wanted to disturb. The air clung with roasted meat, fresh herbs, and the last hints of sweet wine—scent layered over scent, warm and full and so very alive. Laughter hung in the walls. Not loud. Just... there. Soft and real and breathing.
At the head of the table, Leon sat—relaxed, golden-eyed, that midnight-black hair loose and falling past his shoulders now. Even in comfort, he looked like a king. Not because he tried to. Just because he was. He dabbed the corner of his mouth with a napkin, eyes soft, like the night had gentled something inside him.
Around him, his wives and maids were stretched in the kind of ease that only came with trust and long nights shared. Some lounged back in their chairs, loose-limbed and lazy. Others sipped their tea or wine, fingers curled absently around glass stems. Quiet joy flickered between them like low flame. Nothing needed to be said.
Syra was up to her usual nonsense—grinning as she flicked grapes at Tsubaki, who, true to form, stayed sharp, batting them away with her fork and a flustered frown. Cynthia stayed still and elegant, glass in hand, sipping slow, always poised. Aria leaned into Mia’s space, murmuring something teasing, and Mia, poor thing, turned scarlet, hiding behind her hands, eyes wide and horrified. Lira watched it all quietly, a smile softening her pale features. Her silver-white hair shimmered under the chandelier, eyes half-lidded in contentment.
Rias, draped beside Leon like velvet and fire, didn’t even pretend to hide her gaze. Her crimson eyes were fixed on him, heavy with affection, lazy and low. A cherry stem danced between her lips, her smirk full of heat and trouble.
"You know," she murmured, voice low and smoky, nudging Mia just enough to make her squeak, "Mia nearly drank the whole damn bottle of silver lily wine."
Mia gasped behind her hands. "I—I only had two glasses! It was sweet!"
"Oh please," Syra tossed her hair back with a laugh, green strands catching the light, "you were swaying before the first one was even gone."
Lira gave a small, silvery giggle. The kind that didn’t break the moment, just deepened it. "It’s nice, isn’t it?" she said softly. "All of us here... . It almost feels like peace."
And for a moment, that silence held. That rare, quiet kind of agreement—the kind no one has to say out loud.
Leon leaned back, stretched a little, shoulder to shoulder tension melting. "Alright," he said, voice like dusk. "It’s late. Let’s get some rest."
A few sighed. Others lifted their arms over their heads, stretching like cats. That warm, lazy spell of wine and food still tangled around their limbs.
But of course, Syra wasn’t done.
She crossed her arms under her chest—knowingly—and tilted her head, mischief curling her lips. "So, darling..." she said, pretending at innocence, "where exactly are we sleeping tonight? With you? Or are we playing ’who gets Daddy’s bed’ again? Separate rooms or... one big family reunion?"
The way her voice floated into the air—it was impossible to ignore. And suddenly, all eyes turned to Leon.
He didn’t flinch. Just let out a low chuckle, smooth and warm. He leaned into the back of his chair, golden eyes glinting as they passed over each of them. "Why different rooms?" he said. That soft smile returning, full of mischief. "My bed’s big enough. Where I sleep... you all sleep."
Then a ripple of soft laughter. Some looked down. Some blushed. But none of them looked away.
"Well said, darling," Aria chimed in with a laugh, flipping her violet hair and giving him a wink. "That bed—or should I say you—might be the only place where we all actually relax."
Rias didn’t miss a beat. Her smirk stretched wider. "Until Syra starts hogging the blanket again."
"I do not hog the blanket!" Syra shot back, mock pout already in place. Then, slower, in a lower voice, "I only hog my darling."
That got more laughs. The kind that bloomed quietly—petal-soft and glowing in the candlelight.
It was... perfect. Suspended. Real. A moment full of teasing, affection, warmth. Peace, thick and golden.
The sound didn’t just shake the room. It cracked it open. Silverware jumped. Plates slid. The chandelier above let out a soft, scared tremble.
Louder. Closer. Like the city itself had started to scream.
The windows shuddered in their frames. The walls pulsed. For just a breath, it felt like the mansion had lungs—and they were panicking.
"What the—" Tsubaki stood in a flash, back rigid, eyes sharp. Her voice sliced through the room.
A maid yelped, clutching her chest. "W-What was that?!"
The floor trembled. Not enough to fall. Just enough to warn.
"D-Daddy?" Rias’s voice broke—small and shaken. Her crimson eyes flicked to Leon, wide and afraid. "What’s going on?"
He didn’t speak. Not right away.
He rose. Slowly. Chair dragging back with a low, groaning scrape that cut the silence wide open. His face didn’t show anything. No fear. No worry. Just that deadly stillness that came before action. The smile was gone. His golden eyes had changed—cold now. Sharp.
"I don’t know, sweetheart," he said, voice low. Calm. But something darker ran beneath it. "But I’ve got a good idea who’s behind it."
The air around them shifted.
The warmth—the peace they’d wrapped themselves in—was gone.
One by one, the women stood. The softness drained from their eyes, replaced with steel.
Aria pushed back her chair hard. Cynthia moved without sound, but her face was set. Tsubaki’s hand hovered at her side—no weapon there, but her body already moved like it remembered a blade.
Leon turned. Walked. Not fast. Not slow. Just... certain. Each step thudded like a drumbeat. Heavy. Sure. Focused.
They followed. All of them. No more teasing. No more laughter. Just quiet concern pressed into every glance.
Aria whispered, "It changed... so fast."
Cynthia nodded once, tightly. "He knows something."
Outside the hall, the estate was already breaking apart.
Maids were running. Panic leaking from their throats. Servants shouting, bumping into each other. Confused. Terrified.
"Lord! Lord!" they called, voices desperate the moment they saw him.
"Explosion near the mansion walls!"
"The whole place shook, my Lord!"
"Silver City—there’s fire! We—!"
He lifted one hand—just that. No shouting. No yelling.
"Silence," he said, quiet but firm. "I see. Don’t panic. I’ll handle it."
And yet—everything froze. Feet stopped. Mouths shut. Even shaking bodies paused, caught under the gravity of his voice.
He kept walking, into the main hall.
Elite guards flooded in—silver armor shining, weapons drawn. Captain Black at the front. Vice-Captain Johny close behind. Both breathless.
"My Lord!" Black barked. "Are you injured? Did something happen?!"
Leon raised his hand again. Steady. Composed.
"I’m fine," he said, voice like ice over fire. "Now speak. Clearly."
Behind him, the women had caught up—Rias, Aria, Tsubaki, Mia, Lira, Syra, Kyra, Cynthia. The seven elite maids, too. They moved without command, forming a shield behind him, tense and ready.
This time, Johny spoke. He looked like hell. Pale. Tight-lipped.
"My Lord... Silver City’s suffered ten explosions. Simultaneous. Big ones. Major districts—gone. Commoner quarters are on fire. People are screaming. Dying. We’re losing whole sectors. Guards are down. Elite too. It’s chaos out there."
Leon’s jaw tightened. The light in his eyes dimmed, replaced with something darker.
Ronan was right, he realized grimly. I should’ve acted earlier... I waited until morning, and now...
He cursed himself inwardly. But outwardly, his voice remained calm.
"Where is Ronan?" he asked.