Supreme Spouse System.

Chapter 398: The Knock at Dusk

The Knock at Dusk

The room was lovely, swathed in a balance of pale whites and muted greys. All appeared caressed by a subdued elegance—polished furniture that shone, silk drapes rustling lazily with the breeze, pale golden candlelight seeping across the walls.

The large window was open, inviting in the evening wind. It was chilly and scented, bearing with it the perfume of flowers from far away in the mansion gardens. The air wove through the space like a living entity, pulling at the curtains, sweeping over the pale surface of the marble floor.

Under that window lay a low couch, covered in deep grey upholstery. A small side table lay nearby, with a porcelain teacup steaming very faintly with a floral scent. And on that couch, half reclining, her slender form poised with quiet elegance, was Cassidy.

Her black tresses cascaded down her shoulders in sleek, shiny waves, touched lightly by the warm orange light of the sunset. Her black eyes were penetrating and clear, soft with consideration, keen with intelligence. The light from outside gently kissed her alabaster skin, pale as new-fallen snow, so that it appeared almost radiant. A light flush of red still lingered on her lips, natural but vivid, like new petals in contrast against her whiteness.

She was in a gown of black streaked with fine gold—material that hugged and fell with equal poise. The gold sparkled when she moved, catching the last light of the sun like fire woven into fabric.

Cassidy held up her cup, the delicate porcelain cupped in pale fingers, and sipped the liquid slowly. The heat glided over her lips, coating her tongue with the delicate sweetness of leaves brewed. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she set the cup down, her eyes holding outside.

The night air caressed her cheek like the touch of a lover’s hand, and she let her gaze grow soft. For so long she had just sat there, enjoying not only the tea but the tranquility—the still gift of being alive here now.

Her day was one unlike any in years.

From dawn until well past late afternoon, she had not spent it on her bed as she once did, frail and poisoned. No, today she had walked, laughed, even teased. She had spent the entire day in the company of her new family—the women who, like her, stood beside Leon. Rias with her bold teasing eyes, Aria with her regal poise, Cynthia’s calm, Syra’s playful confidence, Kyra’s reserved wit, Tsubaki’s disciplined charm. The maids as well, who arrived in soft turns to fawn over her as if she were one of them.

They had talked about everything. Foolish things—trinklets, trinkets, jewels, clothing, food. Then more serious things—about the kingdom, the wars, the splits in power. About Edric. His betrayal, his shadow that lingered still.

Each new truth crashed like a wave, and Cassidy was swept along by a tidal wave of feeling. Joy in the laughter she now had in common with others, grief for what Leon and the others had gone through, bewilderment at the maze of politics, astonishment at the scope of it all. Sometimes she smiled, and sometimes her hands were clenched in silent rage.

But most of all, she had felt. included. Wanted. She had spent today not as a recovering patient but as a woman among women, a wife among wives.

By the time that evening seeped into gold and crimson, exhaustion had weighed heavily upon her shoulders—not the sick weight of poison, but the dull tiredness of a day crowded with too much life. A sweet tiredness.

That was how she had returned to this room. Not to collapse into bed, but to sit with tea in hand, watching the setting sun.

Cassidy tilted her head, a faint smile touching her lips. ”Strange,” she murmured to herself. ”It feels like the first time I’ve lived properly in years.”

Her words disappeared into the soft hum of the breeze.

She drank another sip, tasting it, allowing the warmth ground her. Her black eyes relaxed, drinking in the horizon. The vista took her back to memories she hadn’t visited in years—dreams, silent hopes, tomorrow’s possible.

But before her chest relaxed, a slight sound knocked on her consciousness.

Knock.

Her brows knit faintly, but she dismissed it. The breeze perhaps, or some servant passing in the hall. She brought the cup again to her lips.

Knock.

Softer, insistent. This time she paused, head tilting toward the door. Yet the sound was so faint she half thought she had imagined it.

She exhaled, shaking her head. ”I’m hearing things.”

Her hand returned the cup to the table, fingers brushing the polished wood.

Then it came back.

Knock. Knock.

Louder this time. Sharp.

Cassidy winced, shoulders twitching. The sudden noise cut through her silence like a knife. Her lips parted, chest constricted with a swift jolt of shock. For an instant, the reverberation shook against her ribs, leaving her body tense with discomfort.

Her voice, taut but controlled, traveled across the room. ”Who...?”

There was no reply.

Her eyebrows pinched together. The tension remained in her spine, but annoyance started to rise against it.

Another knock on the door.

Her jaw tightened. This time she put down her teacup with a gentle clink, porcelain against wood. She stood up, her gown rustling across the floor, her white hands smoothing over her hips as if supporting herself.

Her movements were paced but jerky. She took a step towards the door, annoyance coursing through her voice as she raised it. ”Who is it? Speak to me.”

Nothing.

No answer.

Only the echo of her own voice lingering in the room, being consumed by silence.

The knock resounded again—this time harder, more pointed, pounding against the wood.

Her annoyance prickled, brows shooting upwards as her black eyes furrowed. ”Enough.”

Her fingers wrapped around the door handle. She took a slow breath, shoulders squaring, her whole body tense with a knot of irritation and apprehension.

She yanked the door open in one quick jerk.

The creak of the latch coming undone was louder than it ought to have been in the stillness of the corridor.

Cassidy’s black eyes flashed up, her lips parting—then came to an abrupt stop.

Her breath caught.

Her eyes opened—round, wide, unblinking—glowing like two full moons shocked by the sudden illumination.

For one heartbeat she couldn’t speak.

What she saw across from her took every word from her mouth.