Supreme Spouse System.

Chapter 277: Welcome Home, My Lord

Welcome Home, My Lord

The twin sisters, Syra and Kyra, exchanged a playful glance.

”Ah, the drama of it all,” Syra murmured with a smirk, brushing a lock of green hair behind her ear. ”This is what I’ve missed.”

”Mmm,” Kyra hummed, folding her arms beneath her chest. ”Feels like we’ve walked into one of those old fairytales again.”

From beneath the rich, jewel-encrusted interior, the women observed Silver City unfold like an ancient treasure chest opening again.

To Rias, Aria, Cynthia, Syra, and Kyra — this was familiar territory. The neatly trimmed roads, the refinement of order, the aristocratic air — home. They carried it with dignified ease, eyes firm and familiar.

But for Mia, Lira, and Tsubaki, the view had a still wonder. Even having seen it before, the enormity and sheer excellence of it all aroused awe that blossomed quietly in their hearts.

The maids — Fey, Mira, Mona, Rui, and Lena — were completely transfixed. They parted their lips, eyes shining like polished gems, drinking in the details with breathless awe. The immaculate white-stone sidewalks, the silver-adorned lampposts that shone with pale magical light, the carved flowerbeds full of color along the paved pathways — it desensitized.

And then, there it was.

At the center of the city was a monument — grand and daring. A statue of Leon, poured in shining silver and dark obsidian, riding atop a galloping steed. His sword was raised high to the sky, capturing the light like a vow.

The square below came alive. Citizens halted mid-stride. Merchants fell silent. Children gawked with open eyes. All seemed to hold its breath as the chivalrous caravan procession passed.

”...It’s amazing,” Mona breathed, her voice shaking with authenticity.

”So this is where our master resides,” Rui whispered, hardly loud enough to hear, her thighs faintly clenching together as a rosy blush overspread her cheeks.

The silver-blue carriage slid along the wide, glossy streets of Silver City, its wheels quiet on the stone. On one side and the other, the crowd parted in mute respect. Nobles in fine robes, merchants with ledgers held close, beggars bent low, and curious children grasping their parents’ hands—all halted, all gazed. Whispers passed like a gust of wind.

”It’s the Duke...”

”He’s returned...”

”Duke Moonwalker...”

And then the silence—thick as fog, respectful as a hush, almost religious. As the caravan moved along the crowded market street, heads inclined as flowers in a breeze. Shopkeepers suspended mid-deal, children clutched at sleeves in wonder, and even the city’s richest nobles gave silent bows of respect. No one broke the spell.

Without hesitation, the caravan drove through the city’s living center, urged on by royal intent. The Windsteed-harnessed carriage never swerved, never stumbled. Its course was set: the Moonwalker Estate—wherein dwelt the Duke. Guards along the route cleared the road with trained aplomb, and the masses gave way gladly, some with awe in their eyes, others with yearning, admiration, or profound gratitude.

A few minutes went by. The Windsteeds let out a gentle whinny, nostrils flaring as at last the massive gates of the estate hove into sight.

Wrought from silver-black iron, the grandiose archway rose high and invincible, topped with the clear crest of a crescent moon. In silence, the gates swung open, noiseless and seamless—an admirable demonstration of the estate’s quiet authority. The staff stood ready in dignified alignment, having received warning well ahead of time.

The caravan came to a soft halt.

Leon’s elite guards began dismounting, their movements synchronized, silent as shadows. Not one bootstep out of place. The air thrummed with their discipline.

A commanding voice rose outside the carriage.

”My Lord. My Ladies. We’ve arrived at the estate.”

It was Black, Leon’s most trusted officer, his tone deep and crisp.

Within the carriage, Leon nodded silently, his hand drawing over his cloak. On Black’s signal, the carriage door clicked and slowly creaked open with a smooth swing.

Individuals emerged one by one.

Then the five maids arrived—Fey, Rui, Mira, Mona, and Lena. Their figures supple, their gazes wide with amazement. Hips wrapped neatly within their traveling gowns, rosy flushes on cheeks. Every one of them floated like a whisper, disciplined yet feminine, tempting yet restrained.

Then Tsubaki descended, still radiating knightly presence in spite of the wonder in her eyes. Mia came next, shy and blinking furiously as she held onto her robe, while Lira came with a smile of captivating charm, clearly awed by the grandeur of the estate.

Syra and Kyra followed next—the twin sisters descending side by side, a reflection of sexual assurance. Their hips swayed slightly, green eyes dancing playfully about as they absorbed it all.

Next, Cynthia, Aria, and lastly Rias—their presences strong, sensual, and haughty. Each of them had her own unique charm, but collectively, they exuded an aura that spun heads even in silence.

And last of all, Leon descended.

Tall. Calm. Regal.

He stood among his thirteen women; all were gathered at his side. A picture of dominance and loveliness. The tableau could have been cut into legend.

Before them was the Moonwalker Estate.

Enormous and awe-inspiring, the mansion stood like a castle of dreams—an ivory stronghold sheathed in shining glass, silver trimmings, and obsidian stone foundations. The walls glimmered softly in sunlight, caressed by the golden hour. Lovely trees marched down the stone paths like silent guards. Fountains played close to the marble entrance, waters twinkling in elegant arcs.

Two cohorts waited for them.

To the left, a rank of elite troops stood like a steel wall — polished armor reflecting the last light of sundown, every man still with discipline forged through countless drills. Not a sword raised, not a breath spent. Leading them was a tall figure, acutely and menacingly sharp. His cropped black hair set about a face etched with duty and power — Johny, Vice-Captain of Silver City’s guard, ever watchful, ever faithful.

To the right... a contrast of softness and seductiveness.

Over a dozen maids were poised in formation, wearing sophisticated black-and-white uniforms that hugged their curves with poised elegance. Their stockings glimmered in the amber light, and silver clasps around their throats carried the Moonwalker crest — a discreet emblem of their allegiance. Each face wore a peaceful smile, their eyes possessing only a hint of teasing seduction, as if it were a secret that they alone could see. Rose powder filled the air, blended with the cooling stone of the estate.

In the midst of them was a woman whose very being commanded notice.

Leon was watched by chestnut-brown hair flowing down her shoulders in loose waves, golden eyes resting on him with a peace that came from great familiarity. Her smile was soft, but possessed the subtle strength of a woman who controlled the household without ever raising a sword. Petite, at five-foot-two, her form was stunning — a willowy hourglass traced immaculately by the close corset of her uniform. The skirt, modest and enticing, came to just above the knee, exposing smooth, curved legs clad in filmy black stockings.

This was Lilyn — Head Maid of the Moonwalker Estate.

As Leon descended from his elaborate carriage, a gentle smile brushed his lips. Here, in this well-known location, he permitted the burden on his shoulders to lift — slightly. The fresh breeze brought the smell of smooth marble, nightflowers in bloom, and home. But then he looked beyond Lilyn, and something caused his smile to waver.

A stranger stood unobtrusively behind her.

A young girl, not more than seventeen or eighteen, in a less elaborate version of the maid’s uniform. The rich brown material hugged her form — demure, but closely enough to show the smooth curves of youth in plenitude. Her sleek black hair cascaded like silk down her shoulders, and her warm brown eyes blinked up at him with naive curiosity. Her cheeks flushed lightly, her posture uncertain but genuine. While she did not share the other maids’ mature sensuality, there was something within her — a quiet, emerging beauty — pure and virginal.

Leon’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly as recognition awakened.

”...Chloe?”

The name escaped his lips before he knew. Remembrances awakened. Yes... Ronan’s daughter. One of his most trusted followers. But when Leon had last left Silver City, Chloe was just an ordinary girl who lived with her father— and she had not been working in the estate as a maid. So why was she standing there now, dressed like that, a part of the staff?

He had no time to linger. In perfect harmony, both the maids and soldiers moved — bending themselves with the ease of long-practiced piety, the voices rising as one in a harmonious chorus:

”Welcome back home, my Lord. Welcome home, my Ladies.”

The voice was a chant — low, resonant, and reverent — belling off the stone pillars into the great halls beyond. It was not just a salutation. It was an act of worship.

Mia, Lira, and Tsubaki, hovering close to Leon, were frozen in place for a moment. Their gazes wandered over the spectacle, torn between awe and incredulity. Even the five maids who had accompanied Leon — assertive, flirting women familiar with his caress — felt something rumble in their chests. They had joked on the trip, flirting with one another about keeping their cool... but now, before this flawless greeting, they could only mask their amazement behind immovable faces.

This property was greater than opulent. It was holy.

Leon’s eyes scanned the scene again — soldiers steadfast, maids shining with devotion, and Chloe... a step behind him, her form unobtrusive yet clear. His heart awoke, not with uncertainty, but with a greater comprehension of what had been waiting for him here.

A small smile shaped his lips once more.

My faithful soldiers. My pretty maids... thank you for your reception. You may stand up.”

The pause lasted, soft and complete, before the sound of footsteps and breathing broke again.

And so his journey back — not just to the city he ruled, but to the very center of power, love, and devotion that had ever been his own.