Not Yet, Rias
Leon's gaze settled on them.
The last group.
Eight women standing together—not uncertain… not afraid… but waiting.
The throne hall felt different now.
Not tense.
Not heavy.
But alive.
Every appointment before this had been about power.
This—
This was something else.
Leon leaned slightly forward on the throne, his golden eyes softening just a fraction as they rested on the crimson-haired woman at the center.
"Rias…"
His voice dropped.
Gentler.
"My love…"
Rias held her breath.
Just for a second.
It caught her off guard—how soft he sounded. Not the king. Not the ruler everyone feared and followed. Just him.
Her fingers curled slightly at her sides, nails brushing against her palm as she steadied herself. Around her, the others stood quietly, but there was a subtle shift—attention tightening, anticipation sharpening.
For the first time since the announcements began, her usual playful confidence flickered.
Not gone.
But… quieter.
