Supreme Spouse System.

Chapter 51: Secrets and the Duke Departure.

Secrets and the Duke Departure.

Otherside of city.

Beyond the ruins on the outskirts of Silver City, shadows stirred under the pale, dying moon.

The land there was forgotten — old stone consumed by time, vines climbing up cracked arches, runes so weathered that even the boldest scholars dared not misread them. The air was still, too still — the sort of quiet that felt unnatural.

Three figures stood at the center of a half-fallen courtyard. They had black cloaks weighing heavily over them, the hoods going so deep as to hide their faces, the outlines of their very forms hidden behind enchantment. The tallest one bore a magnificent staff of wood that was obsidian-black and had veins of blue mana coursing through its surface — as if it had living water coursing through it.

The one to her left broke the silence, voice low and impatient. "We still haven’t found the artifact, Priestess. We’ve searched every known chamber."

Her tone was sharp, anxious, but the Priestess did not turn. She stood still as stone, her gaze fixed upon the glowing moon above.

"We will need find it," she said—her tone peaceful, but tinged with silent desperation. "We have to. The alignment takes place tomorrow, and as foretold in the prophecy, the Goddess’s husband will appear tomorrow. Our Goddess requires her husband to be awakened. We need to be prepared to accept him, bring him to our goddess."

"But time is slipping—"

She was interrupted mid-sentence as a low vibration ran through the ruins. The earth creaked and split. Part of the stone wall next to them collapsed with a deafening roar, falling into a cloud of dust and rubble.

"Get back!" the priestess advised, spinning on her heel.

The third man, closest to the fall, had narrowly avoided it. He hacked once, brushing stone dust from his shoulder.

"Are you okay?" the priestess asked, hurrying forward.

"I’m okay," she whispered. And then, after a moment, he gestured into the newly opened breach. "But I saw something. Look."

Through the shroud of dust, a winding path had appeared — a staircase cut into the earth, hidden for centuries under stone and pretense. The doorway gaped like a mouth, black and ominous, the smell of stagnant air and damp stone seeping from the opening.

The eyes of the priestess widened.

She produced an ancient parchment from inside her robes, the ink worn and weak. Her gaze swept over the sketches — a map, old symbols — and then she glanced back towards the stairwell, her own breath coming hard.

"This is it," she breathed. "Sealed chamber... just as written in the prophecy scroll."

She advanced, her staff vibrating with energy as she summoned a shining sphere of blue light. The sphere floated before them, stretching their shadows long and distorted down the stairs.

"Come on," she ordered. "There’s not much time."

The three descended.

The air thickened with every step, and the stone under their boots seemed alive — softly pulsing with ancient magic, as if the stairwell itself had been chiseled by holy hands. Grotesque runes hovered in the walls, softly burning, responding to the priestess’s proximity.

They said nothing. Speech would only ring back down the corridor and draw attention to what was best kept secret.

They finally descended to the bottom.

The room in front of them was huge — a cathedral of rock buried under the ground. Moss was stuck in the corners, old bone fragments littered the borders, and a thin mist hovered just above the ground.

But what captured every gaze was the whirlpool suspended in the air.

A whirlwind chakra, suspended motionless like a paused storm in space, hovered above a large, circular stage. It glowed a blinding blue-white and spun quietly. The chakra was segmented into four precise quadrants, the shape of a complex symbol for balance and unity. Within each quadrant, there was a void — the size and shape of a clenched fist — for something... something yet to arrive.

The air was simultaneously hot and cold, a contradiction that breathed like a living thing.

The priestess fell to one knee; her staff dropped.

"It’s real," she said, her voice filled with reverence. "The Divine Artifact of Balance."

Her two companions stood rigid, but they also fell to knee and gaping in wonder.

She stood up once more slowly, her gaze fixed on the whirlpool chakra above. "As the prophecy... for the Goddess awakens, this whirlpool chakra – The Divine Artifact of Balance must be used by her designated husband according to prophesy — the one who was born outside fate, and who carries the mark of multiplicity — will emerge to unveil the sealed power.

The figure on the left whispered, "And you really Believe that ’husband’ of the Goddess will come tomorrow night?"

"I don’t Believe ," replied the priestess. "I know. It’s all leading to this. Even the stars are aligning into their place."

She stepped forward, meeting them with a full-face glance, for the first time. Underneath her hood, her face oscillated between calm bliss and covered-up desperation.

"The husband of our goddess is on the move already. The strings are pulling tight. He is being drawn here... and when it is time, this relic claims its true master."

There was a beat of silence, thick and anticipatory.

Then the priestess turned to the chakra once more and spoke in a soft whisper to herself:

"Let him come to us... our goddess waits no longer."

Behind her, the other two looked at each other. The air was thick with tension between belief and fear.

They were so close.

And tomorrow, everything would change.

-----------------------------------------------------

Morning in Galvia broke gently. The sky over the Moonwalker Mansion colored itself peach and rose, clouds rolling back like curtains as sunbeams of gold streaked through the realm. Birds trilled in the far orchard, their song a gentle accompaniment to the leaves rustling on the breeze.

Within the master bedroom of the estate, the air was suffused with the warm lingering aroma of lavender and roses — the last remnants of passion from the previous night. The bed, which had been a mass of limbs and silk, was now tidily made, but the subtle impression of bodies still clung to the pillows.

Leon sat beside the wide arched window, already dressed in a pale golden – white robe, damp strands of his hair touching his cheek. Morning light flooded him as he sat cross-legged on the velvet couch, a steaming cup of tea untouched on the nearby side table. His sharp golden eyes roamed over a large map spread out on the low table before him.

The map of the Moonwalker Duchy was spread out — its etched lines detailing all from the twisting rivers and cultivated fields to the untamed, woodland areas close to the borders. His golden eyes focused intently, a small crease in his brow as he followed the edge of Silver City, situated along the duchy’s eastern border, close to a giant woodland called the Silver Forest.

Red ink ringed many areas — some safe areas ringed red, others tinted and indicated danger. His eyes rested upon the thick green area north of the duchy — one marked with no name, merely a sigil for "Restricted." Even in his own duchy, there were some areas he didn’t know much about.

With an exasperated sigh, Leon rolled the map half-closed and drew out another from a leather-bound pouch. This map carried the crest of the Moonstone Kingdom — the kingdom his duchy was a part of. At the kingdom’s center stood Moonspire, the shining capital encircled by a ring of mountains and lakes, a natural stronghold. At the kingdom’s outer borders were three great duchies — making up a triangular border: Moonwalker Duchy, Starlight Duchy, and Nova Duchy.

Leon’s fingers drummed his duchy’s location — on the southern edge, close to the edge of the outer kingdom, where the wildlands pressed too close and politics tended to be thin. "So remote," he grumbled. "It makes sense... less control, more intrigue."

But even this national map was not sufficient.

He unfurled another scroll — a sweeping map of Galvia, the whole continent.

His breath caught momentarily.

The Five Forbidden Forests were inscribed in foreboding black ink, each situated at strategic locations like anchors. Four were hidden within the domains of Galvia’s Great Empires — each veiled in legend and sealed behind strong enchantments. The fifth stood alone — directly at the intersection of five sovereign kingdoms, including his own Moonstone Kingdom. The forest bordered:

• Moonstone Kingdom

• Skyfall Kingdom

• Vellore Kingdom

• Duskhorn Kingdom

• Norgren Kingdom

A perfect convergence point, as if the continent itself had attempted to forget the forest by enclosing it with politics.

Leon hunched in closer, forehead furrowed deep, eyes darting between landmarks and borders. "Why are these forests designated forbidden? What is inside this forest that calls for such fear?"

And then, he remembered.

A gentle mechanical chime resonated within his mind — the System’s voice, still enigmatic even today. Several weeks ago, when he first entered this new world, the system provided him with forbidden information about Galvia and casually mentioned the Forbidden Forests — only to immediately caution him:

[Access Denied. Warning: Do not enter any Forbidden Forest unless host reaches Monarch Realm or higher. Low cultivation to lead Host high probability of death. Host must not seek further knowledge at current stage.]

That memory came back with acuteness, causing Leon’s back to stiffen.

"The system didn’t give me the complete knowledge," he thought. "It doesn’t want me to know yet... because my low-level."

He clicked tongue and sighed. "System won’t tell what’s inside—until some level," he grumbled. "So... I have to discover myself."

Yet, curiosity nagged him. The maps, the secrets, the silence. It was like the stories — the old fantasy books he used to read in his previous life. He remembered the shows, anime, and sagas where the hero, frail and outnumbered, discovered a forbidden land — and in it, unimaginable power. Treacherous trials, lost legacies, ancient spirits...

His heart pounded faster.

"If I go there..." he mused, eyes sparkling dimly, "can I become even more overwhelmed? Could this world’s so-called danger areas be my shortcut...?"

For a moment, he was lost in the thought.

Just as his mind wandered deeper into speculation, the gentle sound of a door opening brought him back to the present.

Aria entered, shining and elegant. She had on a sweeping gown of regal purple and white, which was embroidered with silver vinework and lilies. Her amethyst-colored hair glowed in the light. Her eyes, still sleep-heavy but shining with love, sought his out.

She wheeled a breakfast cart towards him, silver tray shining in sunlight. His mind — of prohibited forests, occult power, and impending mysteries — dissipated like dust in light.

Smiling softly, he moved the maps out of the way, clearing space on the table just as she came up beside him. She smiled back at him, her beauty effortless in the way she set out a delicate porcelain service before him: warm, buttered bread still steaming, a bowl of scented sweet pear porridge, and two cups of pale moonberry tea, their steam winding in slimy tendrils.

She sat next to him, her gown puddling softly at her feet, each movement graceful yet intimate.

"You could’ve simply sent the maids out for it," Leon said, his voice low with mirth.

"I know," Aria said, a gentle laugh slipping past her lips. "But I... I wanted to cook for you myself."

Her eyes contained nothing but warmth — and love that didn’t require words. Leon smiled, his chest constricting with soft affection.

"You’re spoiling me now," he murmured, leaning in to place a slow, tender kiss on her cheek. "But Thank – You, for spiling me."

Her smile deepened, and her gaze never left his. "Eat before it gets cold, husband."

And so they did — breaking bread in quiet silence. Theirs was a wordless, constant, profound connection. Outside, the sun ascended, pouring golden warmth over the stone floor and catching on their teacups like a benediction.

Once the final bite disappeared, Leon pushed to his feet, extending his shoulders. Calm settled inside him, but under it all was a simmering thrum — a purpose that had implanted itself in his bones.

"Time to leave," he announced.

Aria’s gaze grew narrowed, her face twisted into a concern. "Leon. I still don’t think you should go off by yourself with any guards at all.

He breathed out with a gentle smile. "Aria, it’s not a raid. Just a training excursion. I move quicker by myself."

She pressed her lips together, not believing him. "You always say that."

"I’ll be okay," he told her. "If I’m not back at night, maybe I’m just stuck in a spar that lasts till dawn."

She reached up, touching his cheek with gentle fingers. "That’s not funny."

Leon caught her hand gently. "I’ll come back in one piece. Don’t worry."

She studied him quietly, gaze serious, then nodded. She understood — he had to go. It was who he was. But that didn’t make it easier.

"Then be safe. And come back quickly."

"I will," he promised.

She stepped closer, resting her head against his chest. "Just don’t get excited and try to punch a power beast, alright?"

Leon smiled. "No promises."

He faced the distant opposite end of the room. There, against the wall, was a towering mahogany bookshelf — unbroken, unless one knew where to glance. Through inherited memory of the original Duke — the man he used to be — Leon knew where to reach.

His fingers touched a familiar spine: a blue-covered book named "An Empire’s Veins." He drew it half-out.

Click.

The bookshelf shook. A gentle grinding was heard, and with a deep rumble, the shelf rolled out of the way, exposing a secret passage hewn of ancient stone and lined with softly glowing runes set into the walls.

This was one of the Duke’s old secrets — a private route known only to a trusted few. The corridor led to two hidden exits: one near the city center, the other skirting the edge of the distant forest.

Aria stepped forward, eyes wide with quiet confusion.

"You’re using this way?" Aria asked.

Leon nodded. "I want this journey to stay secret. This is the best way — no eyes, no questions."

She looked at him a moment longer, then gave a small nod. She knew — as Duke, there were times he had to move quietly, unseen. This was one of those times.

Her expression sobered once more. "So... no one will know you’ve left... Huh?"

"That’s the idea."

Aria stepped close again; her hands clasped together. "Then take care, darling... and come back soon."

He leaned down, brushing her lips with his in a whisper of a kiss. "You too. Don’t overwork. And make sure the estate doesn’t burn down while I’m gone." He said last line with soft chuckled.

She let out a weak laugh, "Don’t worry about, I will not." but it did nothing to conceal the concern in her eyes.

"I’ll be back before you know it."

Leon turned to the doorway and walked through. The instant he was past the doorway; the bookshelf started to slide back into position.

Aria waited until the door closed with a click.

For an extended moment, she remained standing there, not moving.

And then, in a voice barely the still morning could hear, she whispered,

"Be safe."

Otherside of city.

Beyond the ruins on the edge of Silver City, darkness shifted under the thin, dying moon.

The ground there was forgotten — ancient stone consumed by time, vines climbing up broken archways, runes so worn that even the boldest scholars dared not misread them. The air was quiet, too quiet — the sort of silence that seemed unnatural.

Three figures stood at the center of a half-collapsed courtyard. They were draped in heavy black cloaks with hoods that were deep enough to hide their faces, the very contours of their bodies smudged by magic. The tallest of them bore a regal staff of obsidian-black wood, its blue veins of mana pulsating — like living water coursing through its surface.

The one to her left broke the silence, voice low and impatient. "We still haven’t found the artifact, Priestess. We’ve searched every known chamber."

Her tone was sharp, anxious, but the Priestess did not turn. She stood still as stone, her gaze fixed upon the glowing moon above.

We will discover it," she said—her tone steady, but with undercurrents of quiet desperation. "We must. The conjunction is tomorrow, and the prophecy says that tomorrow the Goddess’s husband will appear. Our Goddess requires her husband to awaken. We must be prepared to take him in, lead him to our goddess."

"But time is passing—

She was interrupted in midsentence as a low vibration rocked the ruins. The earth creaked and cracked. A chunk of the stone wall next to them collapsed with a deafening roar, crumbling into a cloud of dust and debris.

"Back!" the priestess warned, spinning away.

The third man, closest to the falling wall, had dodged in just in time. He coughed once, shaking stone dust from his shoulder.

Are you okay?" the priestess inquired, advancing quickly.

"I’m okay," she whispered. Then, a moment later, he nodded into the new breach. "But I found something. See this.

Behind the curtain of dust, a thin opening had been revealed — a stairway cut straight into the ground, concealed for centuries behind stone and deception. The doorway opened like a mouth, dark and ominous, the smell of stale air and wet stone pouring out from inside.

The priestess’s eyes grew wide.

Rapidly, she drew an old parchment out of her robes, the faded ink and thin. Her gaze swept over the drawings — a map, the symbols of an ancient language — and then back to the stairwell, her breath catching.

"This is it," she whispered. "The sealed chamber... exactly as detailed in the scroll of prophecy."

She moved forward, her staff vibrating with energy as she summoned a glowing sphere of blue light. The sphere floated before them, stretching their shadows long and distorted down the stairs.

"Come," she ordered. "We don’t have much time."

The three of them went down.

The air became cooler with each step, and the rock underfoot seemed to breathe — beating dimly with long-forgotten magic, like the stair itself had once been shaped by angelic fingers. Unsettling runes ran in the walls, pulsing weakly, and responded to the priestess’s presence.

Nothing was said. Speech would resound down the corridor and advertise what best went unseen.

Finally, they found themselves at its end.

The room in front of them was huge — a stone cathedral underground. Moss grew on the corners, scattered pieces of ancient bone decorated the edges, and a pale mist wafted inches above the ground.

But what commanded every gaze to lift was the whirlpool floating in the air.

A whirling spiral chakra, suspended motionless like a storm in time, hung above a broad circular stage. It glowed blue-white, a deep and vibrant color, and spun in silence. The spiral was segmented into four sharp quadrants w, an elaborate symbol of balance and coming together. In each quadrant, an empty space — the shape of a closed fist — waited for something... something not yet here.

The air was hot and cold simultaneously, a contradiction that seemed to breathe.

The priestess knelt; her staff went down.

"It’s real," she said, reverence weighing heavily in her voice. "The Divine Artifact of Balance."

Her two friends were still rigid, but also fell in knee and gazing in wonder.

She stood up once more slowly, her gaze not wavering from the churning chakra above. "The prophecy states. for the Goddess awakens, this churning chakra — The Divine Artifact of Balance has to be used by her selected husband according to prophesy — the one who was born beyond fate, the one with the mark of multiplicity — will emerge to activate the sealed power."

The figure on the left leaned forward and whispered, "And you still think that ’husband’ of the Goddess will show himself tomorrow evening?"

"I don’t think," the priestess replied. "I know. It has all been leading up to this. Even the stars are in conjunction."

She turned to them completely, for the first time. Under her hood, her face shifted between smiling and hid desperation.

The husband of our goddess is already in motion. The threads are contracting. He comes in response to the pull. and when the moment arrives, this artifact has its true owner."

There was a moment of silence, heavy and pregnant.

Then the priestess turned back to the spiral and spoke softly to herself:

"Let him come to us. our goddess waits no longer.

Behind her, the other two looked at each other. The air was heavy with tension between belief and fear.

They were so near.

And tomorrow, everything would be different.

-----------------------------------------------------

Morning in Galvia broke gently. The sky over the Moonwalker Mansion colored itself peach and rose, clouds rolling back like curtains as sunbeams of gold streaked through the realm. Birds trilled in the far orchard, their song a gentle accompaniment to the leaves rustling on the breeze.

Within the master bedroom of the estate, the air was suffused with the warm lingering aroma of lavender and roses — the last remnants of passion from the previous night. The bed, which had been a mass of limbs and silk, was now tidily made, but the subtle impression of bodies still clung to the pillows.

Leon sat beside the wide arched window, already dressed in a pale golden – white robe, damp strands of his hair touching his cheek. Morning light flooded him as he sat cross-legged on the velvet couch, a steaming cup of tea untouched on the nearby side table. His sharp golden eyes roamed over a large map spread out on the low table before him.

The map of the Moonwalker Duchy was spread out — its etched lines detailing all from the twisting rivers and cultivated fields to the untamed, woodland areas close to the borders. His golden eyes focused intently, a small crease in his brow as he followed the edge of Silver City, situated along the duchy’s eastern border, close to a giant woodland called the Silver Forest.

Red ink ringed many areas — some safe areas ringed red, others tinted and indicated danger. His eyes rested upon the thick green area north of the duchy — one marked with no name, merely a sigil for "Restricted." Even in his own duchy, there were some areas he didn’t know much about.

With an exasperated sigh, Leon rolled the map half-closed and drew out another from a leather-bound pouch. This map carried the crest of the Moonstone Kingdom — the kingdom his duchy was a part of. At the kingdom’s center stood Moonspire, the shining capital encircled by a ring of mountains and lakes, a natural stronghold. At the kingdom’s outer borders were three great duchies — making up a triangular border: Moonwalker Duchy, Starlight Duchy, and Nova Duchy.

Leon’s fingers drummed his duchy’s location — on the southern edge, close to the edge of the outer kingdom, where the wildlands pressed too close and politics tended to be thin. "So remote," he grumbled. "It makes sense... less control, more intrigue."

But even this national map was not sufficient.

He unfurled another scroll — a sweeping map of Galvia, the whole continent.

His breath caught momentarily.

The Five Forbidden Forests were inscribed in foreboding black ink, each situated at strategic locations like anchors. Four were hidden within the domains of Galvia’s Great Empires — each veiled in legend and sealed behind strong enchantments. The fifth stood alone — directly at the intersection of five sovereign kingdoms, including his own Moonstone Kingdom. The forest bordered:

• Moonstone Kingdom

• Skyfall Kingdom

• Vellore Kingdom

• Duskhorn Kingdom

• Norgren Kingdom

A perfect convergence point, as if the continent itself had attempted to forget the forest by enclosing it with politics.

Leon hunched in closer, forehead furrowed deep, eyes darting between landmarks and borders. "Why are these forests designated forbidden? What is inside this forest that calls for such fear?"

And then, he remembered.

A gentle mechanical chime resonated within his mind — the System’s voice, still enigmatic even today. Several weeks ago, when he first entered this new world, the system provided him with forbidden information about Galvia and casually mentioned the Forbidden Forests — only to immediately caution him:

[Access Denied. Warning: Do not enter any Forbidden Forest unless host reaches Monarch Realm or higher. Low cultivation to lead Host high probability of death. Host must not seek further knowledge at current stage.]

That memory came back with acuteness, causing Leon’s back to stiffen.

"The system didn’t give me the complete knowledge," he thought. "It doesn’t want me to know yet... because my low-level."

He clicked tongue and sighed. "System won’t tell what’s inside—until some level," he grumbled. "So... I have to discover myself."

Yet, curiosity nagged him. The maps, the secrets, the silence. It was like the stories — the old fantasy books he used to read in his previous life. He remembered the shows, anime, and sagas where the hero, frail and outnumbered, discovered a forbidden land — and in it, unimaginable power. Treacherous trials, lost legacies, ancient spirits...

His heart pounded faster.

"If I go there..." he mused, eyes sparkling dimly, "can I become even more overwhelmed? Could this world’s so-called danger areas be my shortcut...?"

For a moment, he was lost in the thought.

Just as his mind wandered deeper into speculation, the gentle sound of a door opening brought him back to the present.

Aria entered, shining and elegant. She had on a sweeping gown of regal purple and white, which was embroidered with silver vinework and lilies. Her amethyst-colored hair glowed in the light. Her eyes, still sleep-heavy but shining with love, sought his out.

She wheeled a breakfast cart towards him, silver tray shining in sunlight. His mind — of prohibited forests, occult power, and impending mysteries — dissipated like dust in light.

Smiling softly, he moved the maps out of the way, clearing space on the table just as she came up beside him. She smiled back at him, her beauty effortless in the way she set out a delicate porcelain service before him: warm, buttered bread still steaming, a bowl of scented sweet pear porridge, and two cups of pale moonberry tea, their steam winding in slimy tendrils.

She sat next to him, her gown puddling softly at her feet, each movement graceful yet intimate.

"You could’ve simply sent the maids out for it," Leon said, his voice low with mirth.

"I know," Aria said, a gentle laugh slipping past her lips. "But I... I wanted to cook for you myself."

Her eyes contained nothing but warmth — and love that didn’t require words. Leon smiled, his chest constricting with soft affection.

"You’re spoiling me now," he murmured, leaning in to place a slow, tender kiss on her cheek. "But Thank – You, for spiling me."

Her smile deepened, and her gaze never left his. "Eat before it gets cold, husband."

And so they did — breaking bread in quiet silence. Theirs was a wordless, constant, profound connection. Outside, the sun ascended, pouring golden warmth over the stone floor and catching on their teacups like a benediction.

Once the final bite disappeared, Leon pushed to his feet, extending his shoulders. Calm settled inside him, but under it all was a simmering thrum — a purpose that had implanted itself in his bones.

"Time to leave," he announced.

Aria’s gaze grew narrowed, her face twisted into a concern. "Leon. I still don’t think you should go off by yourself with any guards at all.

He breathed out with a gentle smile. "Aria, it’s not a raid. Just a training excursion. I move quicker by myself."

She pressed her lips together, not believing him. "You always say that."

"I’ll be okay," he told her. "If I’m not back at night, maybe I’m just stuck in a spar that lasts till dawn."

She reached up, touching his cheek with gentle fingers. "That’s not funny."

Leon caught her hand gently. "I’ll come back in one piece. Don’t worry."

She studied him quietly, gaze serious, then nodded. She understood — he had to go. It was who he was. But that didn’t make it easier.

"Then be safe. And come back quickly."

"I will," he promised.

She stepped closer, resting her head against his chest. "Just don’t get excited and try to punch a power beast, alright?"

Leon smiled. "No promises."

He faced the distant opposite end of the room. There, against the wall, was a towering mahogany bookshelf — unbroken, unless one knew where to glance. Through inherited memory of the original Duke — the man he used to be — Leon knew where to reach.

His fingers touched a familiar spine: a blue-covered book named "An Empire’s Veins." He drew it half-out.

Click.

The bookshelf shook. A gentle grinding was heard, and with a deep rumble, the shelf rolled out of the way, exposing a secret passage hewn of ancient stone and lined with softly glowing runes set into the walls.

This was one of the Duke’s old secrets — a private route known only to a trusted few. The corridor led to two hidden exits: one near the city center, the other skirting the edge of the distant forest.

Aria stepped forward, eyes wide with quiet confusion.

"You’re using this way?" Aria asked.

Leon nodded. "I want this journey to stay secret. This is the best way — no eyes, no questions."

She looked at him a moment longer, then gave a small nod. She knew — as Duke, there were times he had to move quietly, unseen. This was one of those times.

Her expression sobered once more. "So... no one will know you’ve left... Huh?"

"That’s the idea."

Aria stepped close again; her hands clasped together. "Then take care, darling... and come back soon."

He leaned down, brushing her lips with his in a whisper of a kiss. "You too. Don’t overwork. And make sure the estate doesn’t burn down while I’m gone." He said last line with soft chuckled.

She let out a weak laugh, "Don’t worry about, I will not." but it did nothing to conceal the concern in her eyes.

"I’ll be back before you know it."

Leon turned to the doorway and walked through. The instant he was past the doorway; the bookshelf started to slide back into position.

Aria waited until the door closed with a click.

For an extended moment, she remained standing there, not moving.

And then, in a voice barely the still morning could hear, she whispered,

"Be safe."