A Father’s Gaze, A Daughter’s Choice
"So, Head Maid Lilyn—how was everything while we were away? You’ve grown even more graceful, I must say."
A light pink passed over Lilyn’s cheeks, the praise evidently sinking in warmly.
"You’re too kind, Lady Aria,"
A light pink passed across Lilyn’s cheeks, the praise evidently sinking in warmly.
"You’re too kind, Lady Aria," she answered softly, eyes dropping for a mont. "I only did my best when you were away. Though... I must say, the mansion seed a bit dull without all of you."
"Best?" Aria’s eyes flashed that teasing sparkle. "You’ve done more than that, little sister."
Soft laughter drifted through the room like music. Rias nodded with serene approval, her crimson eyes warm.
"Good to see this place maintained so nicely. You’ve done terrifically," she said—and then her playful side appeared with a gradual smile. "Oh? Did you miss , Lilyn?"
Lilyn didn’t skip a beat. A subtle wink followed her silky response.
"Certainly, my Lady. Particularly your morning voice."
"She ans your yelling," Syra retorted, laughing as she leaned against the couch.
Kyra, always the quiet watcher, chid in with her dry wit,
"Or the way you always take the last pastry."
Laughter blood again, louder this ti, the kind only shared among those who had grown close through ti, loyalty, and unspoken affection. The teasing continued, circling gently back to Lilyn, who bore it with a bashful smile. Her cheeks flushed again under their warm attention, but her posture remained graceful, composed even as the affection made her heart flutter.
And yet, under the laughter, a soft change swept over her. As the laughter subsided into soft smiles and fond looks, Lilyn’s face grew serious—just a little. She took a small step forward, regained her poise again, and bent her head in a delicate bow. "My Lord... there is sothing of great import I would like to say—
But before her shaking voice was able to complete the thought, a soft knock resounded from the doorway. The knocking was quiet, but firm enough to break in on the mont. The wooden door groaned open with a low creak, and a figure entered into the room.
He was tall and lean and humble-looking—wearing a simple, tattered brown robe that fitted his body loosely. His short black hair was rumpled, suggesting a man who didn’t bother about appearances. But his movents had a subtle power to them, and his eyes, bright and vigilant, suggested a man who knew the darker corners of the world. He was sothing to be respected—sothing honorable, in spite of the absence of dignity.
Ronan. Leon’s shadow that he trusted. The man who observed the city from the ground as his lord reigned from on high.
He entered and bowed with easy elegance, the sort that didn’t require polish to demand respect.
"It’s good to see you again, my Grace."
Leon’s expression softened at the sight of his old ally. "Ronan... it’s been a while." He let out a quiet laugh, the corners of his mouth lifting as he added, "Still thin as ever, huh."
Ronan smirked, one brow arching with familiar ease. "And you’re still charming, as always."
Then, with a smooth turn, he faced the won in the room. He offered a respectful bow, his tone courteous.
"Ladies. Welco ho."
His eyes flashed briefly over them—lovely, inquiring, but not staying out of turn. A few of the won nodded to him curtly; others smiled genially. But it was evident where Ronan’s attention really was—as his eyes ca back to Leon, and a subtle glint of humor broke through.
"Appears your family just continues growing, my Lord," he remarked with a knowing smile.
Leon laughed, but a subtle tinge of sheepishness brushed his face. He touched the back of his neck. "I didn’t intend it. It just... happened."
The won around him looked at each other—teasing, wise, intimate. Chloe, who still remained standing silently next to Lilyn, lowered her head. Her hands tugged at her sides, fingers lightly entwined over her skirt. A faint blush had flared on her cheeks, pale and rosy as the first warmth of dawn.
Leon spotted the color in her face, the demure manner in which she stood, but chose not to say anything. Instead, he glanced over to Ronan, his voice changing softer.
"So? Chloe’s working here now?"
Ronan nodded once, but before Leon could query further, he stepped forward and said distinctively.
"About that, my Lord... Chloe is here because she wanted to. There was a vacancy, and Miss Lilyn graciously stepped aside for her to take the position."
Leon shifted his gold eyes to the girl. It was not a cold stare—but it was warm, interested, and commanding.
"Is that true, Chloe?"
The young woman raised her head hesitantly, her voice little more than a breath.
Yes, my Grace. I... I wanted to serve you as a maid."
Her fingers curled delicately at the hem of her skirt, the blush rising in her cheeks a deeper red. She seed fragile at that mont—vulnerable yet honest.
Leon smiled—soft, accepting.
"Alright. Then you’ll serve here. But Ronan—if you wish, I can make her the best post.
Ronan chuckled softly, eyes darting to his daughter with a father’s mixture of love and frustration.
"Let her work for it, my Lord. She’s stubborn, just like her mother."
Chloe’s gaze ca up once more, her tone hesitant but firm.
"I don’t want any special position, my Grace. I... I just want to be a maid. That’s all I want."
Her voice was little more than a whisper, shaking with earnestness. But there was no doubting the sincerity that lay behind the words. The warm flush on her cheeks still lingered, soft and golden, and her brown eyes shone with silent determination.
Leon regarded her for another heartbeat, his golden eyes inscrutable—but gentle. He nodded at last, lips curving into a slight but encouraging smile.
"Very well. Proceed."
A silence ensued. Ronan’s gaze remained on Chloe another mont, and in that quiet, the truth took hold in his heart—an indelible realization no father could avoid.
She’s already developed feelings for him, he thought softly, not with fear, but a sort of wistful fondness. That expression. that gentleness in her eyes.
He had watched Leon mature—seen him beco the brash teenager and develop into the commanding Duke he was now. Ronan had been loyal to the Moonwalker House long before Leon ca into its legacy. He had stood by the side of the forr Duke, and now he stood before the son, who bore that sa blood, that sa fla—but sothing more.
Leon wasn’t only strong. He was fair. His gentleness wasn’t weakness—it was strength with heart. He possessed vision, honor, and the uncommon gift to lead not only by command, but by heart.
Ronan was certain that if he searched the entire city, holding aloft a lantern into every nook of Silver City, he’d never find a man more deserving of his daughter—not even close to it.
No noble. No knight. No rchant’s boy.
None of them ca close to Leon Moonwalker.
And so, in secret, he accepted it. Not because he needed to—but because he believed in the man she had chosen.
Still, it wasn’t sothing he would say now. He’d wait. Perhaps soday, when the ti was appropriate, he would discuss it with Leon—not as a vassal, but as a father.
His gaze flickered back to Leon then. The warmth in his expression disappeared and was replaced by sothing grimr. He recalled why he had arrived—not solely for his daughter.
He moved forward again, voice lowering slightly.
"My Lord," he started gravely, "there’s another thing I have to speak of. May I have a word with you in private?"
Leon’s gold-colored eyes narrowed slightly. The atmosphere in the room changed.
"Sothing urgent?"
Yes," said Ronan, his eyes unwavering. "It has to do with the city. And. other matters."
A shiver of tension ran through the won. They looked at each other, feeling the weight of his tone.
Leon regarded them—his wives, his lovers, his faithful sisters. And in a soft but unyielding voice, he said,
"If it’s really important, you can tell anything. These won. they’re my family.
That one word— "family"—hung suspended in the air like a gentle promise. Lira, Mia, Tsubaki, even the five new maids, all sensed sothing awaken within them. A quiet heat unfolded in their chests.
Ronan paused, respect in his reluctance. But eventually, he bowed a little, voice more guarded.
"I understand, my Lord. Nevertheless... this situation is sensitive."
Leon opened his lips to answer—but before a word could escape him, Rias stood up from her chair with elegant poise. Her exquisite red hair flowed down her back like silk, shining in the light as she coolly pushed a strand behind her ear. Stepping close in a soft advance, she leaned forward toward Leon by a small amount, a mischievous spark in her red eyes.
"Daddy, why don’t you go along with him?" she asked sweetly. "We’ll catch up with Lilyn and Chloe here. Don’t worry—I’ll show the others their rooms and et you at the dining table directly, okay?"
Leon’s gaze went to her. There was mischief lying under her charming smile, a familiar spark that caused his lips to curve in quiet amusent. He chuckled softly, the tension in his posture easing.
"Alright. Take care, sweetheart."
He rose from the velvet couch, his hand quickly smoothing down the front of his coat, ridding any loose creases. A slight straightening of his shoulders, and he spoke to Ronan.
"Co."
Ronan bowed his head courteously. "Thank you, Lady Rias."
Rias did not respond—only smiled knowingly, her eyes flitting to him for a mont before she looked away, her hips swaying ever so slightly as she led the others towards the hallway.
The mont receded behind them.
Leon and Ronan walked out into the corridor, their steps quiet on the smooth stone floor. They didn’t exchange words—words were not needed right now. Leon’s countenance had changed, his playful warmth giving way to sothing bracing. His golden eyes were intent, duty weighing upon his form once more like armor.
The estate radiated a golden light as the evening sun poured through tall windows and cast long shadows through the grand halls. The air was heavy with the distant aroma of lilies, wood finish, and the faint whiff of a woman’s perfu that lingered in the air.
They strode down the corridor in silent purpose, their step even. At last, they ca to a monuntal pair of double doors—Leon’s personal quarters. The heavily ornate black wood featured House Moonwalker’s crest, carved with care and pride.
Leon hesitated, taking a deep breath before opening the doors.
A flood of heat welled up to et him—his haven.
The comforting sll enveloped him at once. A calming combination of floral, citrus, and that reassuring hint of aged books and spice. He entered, his eyes scanning the room. The black-and-gold the swathed the area in luxury and dominance—from the velvet drapes to the gleaming floor, every inch breathed prestige.
Ho.
But there was no ti to sit back and indulge in nostalgia.
Leon shut the doors behind them and moved around to face Ronan. The warmth in his gaze dissipated, leaving only cool intensity. His voice was deep and commanding.
"Now... speak."
Ronan dropped his head a fraction, a burden settling onto his shoulders.
"Yes, my Lord..."
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