Chapter 371: The Silent Rivalry
The Silent Rivalry
The chamber was bathed in warm golden light. Chandeliers spilled fire like a hundred stars trapped, their glass crystals sending sprinkles of sparks across marble and silk. The air was thick with blended perfumes of sandalwood, rose, lavender, and fresh mogra, each note blending into the next until the room itself had a pulse like a living garden in the dark of night.
Through the high arching windows, a chill gust of night air crept in, bearing the sound of the faint hush of crickets. Curtains rustled, their long material sighing peacefully to the wind. Shadows leaned against the floor in the shape of stretched fingers, but the light from the fire softened them, enveloping the room in comfort and privacy.
On the wide bed—covered in sheets of pale ivory silk—women sat together in easy disarray. Rias, Aria, Cynthia, Syra, Kyra, Lira, Tsubaki, Nova, Fey, Rui, Lena, Mona, Mira, Lilyn, and Chloe. Some rested lazily against the ornate headboard, others curled their legs under themselves, hair spilling over shoulders like rivers of flame, night, or moss-green silk. Their laughter drifted in bursts, a babbler of sound, a flow of laughter, muted teasing, and half-concealed sighs.
Nova had only just come back into the room, her voice continuing to blend seamlessly into the discussion, and the women’s circle moved around her as though not a beat had been missed.
It was Rias who leaned forward, her red eyes tilting and her brow raised, her voice smooth but tinged with curiosity.
"By the way... where is Father? Why hasn’t he arrived yet?"
Aria’s purple eyes gentled in answer, like a sister placating a child.
"Perhaps he’s busy... consoling Mia. After all, she needs him tonight more than any of us."
The others fell quiet for a breath, nodding. Even in their hearts, they knew Mia’s claim was undeniable.
But it was Tsubaki who broke the lull, her tone edged with a sharper realism.
"Or maybe... he won’t return at all tonight."
A delicate sigh undulated across the women. Disappointment glowed in their eyes, but underneath was comprehension. Cassidy and Mia’s injuries—heart and body alike—had scarred both of them, and Leon’s arms were their sanctuary.
Then, across the circle, Rui stretched forward. Her cheeks flushed, her voice teasing, yet a genuine yearning seeped through her words.
"Still... I want to see him, to be with Master too. I miss him..."
Her brashness made some smile, but before the warmth had a chance to spread, Fey’s voice sliced across, harder and stricter, like the snap of a ruler.
"Rui. Behave. He is our Master, yes—but beyond that, he is the husband of our ladies. You should be restrained."
Her tone was heavy enough to gag Rui, her lips opening but closing swiftly as if she feared to push on.
Cynthia, with a gracious smile, shook her head gently, dark eyes growing soft as she replied.
"Come now, Fey... don’t portray him as being one to build walls between us. Leon does not discriminate. He treats everyone the same. You know that."
"Yes, Sister Cynthia," Fey said, her eyebrows furrowed with resolve. "But respect cannot be lost. If Master will allow us to accompany him, to serve him, then already that is a blessing. We must not forget—above all else—we are his maids."
The room collectively sighed. This was not the first time Fey had held onto this notion, refusing to let go in her commitment to an ethic of servitude. And she was not alone. Rui, Mona, Lena, Mira, even Lilyn and Chloe were wont to fall into Fey’s ideology, embracing reverence at the cost of comfort.
Syra, whose green hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall of leaves under the chandelier light, attempted to shift the mood. She smiled weakly, her tone playful.
"Enough heavy words. Tell me this instead—if Leon comes back tonight, who of us will he take first?"
There was silence like a sudden storm. No one had actually said it yet, but every heart in the room bore the same unspoken question. If he came... who would he take?
Rias’s lips curved slowly, crimson eyes shining with self-assured flame.
"Do we really need to talk about it? We all know Daddy loves me best. Clearly... he’ll spend his evening with me."
The dreamy certainty in her voice caused more than a woman’s jaw to clench. Scoffs escaped into the silence, biting and ungueared.
Kyra, typically reserved, raised her eyes, her green eyes level but bristling with steel.
"Sister Rias... don’t be so sure. Leon loves us all. He could choose anyone."
The remark fell like a rock in water, causing ripples in the chamber. Rias’s smile soured to a cutting edge. Her pride was like iron, unflexing, but when it was Leon, even mountains snapped into shattering glass.
Harmony in the room broke. The women who could move mountains together would now act like cats—hair standing on end, claws not present but raging. Rivalry buzzed between them like electricity.
Then Chloe, who sat in her corner with nothing to say, raised her chin in a mischievous smile.
"Well... if we’re being truthful, it should be me. You guys remember—I was the last to have him. That night before we left, it was my body he took. Perhaps tonight... he needs me again."
All sets of eyes turned to her, cutting as sharp as knives. Even Lira’s soft features tightened, and Tsubaki’s was a sword just half-drawn.
"What did you say?" Tsubaki’s voice quivered with subdued menace.
Chloe just smiled, the sneering curve of her lips challenging them all.
And then Nova, who had been holding her tongue, broke her silence. Her voice wasn’t cold but laden with reality.
If time is important... then it should be me. I was away from him longer. Doesn’t that give me the right?"
The chief wives rigidified, the gravity of her argument undeniable. The maids stood frozen with wide eyes, trapped in the turbulence of angry words that flickered like swords.
But even within this gathering tempest, Fey’s voice had yet to sound in protest once more. Her face was unruffled, but her voice bore unexpected authority.
"My sisters... perhaps we should leave Master alone tonight. He’s come from a long journey. He needs rest. Isn’t that better than tearing ourselves apart?"
The proposal surprised them. They blinked for a moment, seeing the sense in her words. Heads tilted, little nods forming in unwilling unison.
But before the tension could break, Fey spoke up, her voice steady, almost too steady:
"So tonight... I will attend Master. I will massage him until he sleeps."
The room came to a halt.
Aria’s purple eyes narrowed sharply, incredulity weaving its way into her voice.
"Massage? Or... get him seduced? Fey, tell us honestly—are you attempting to pilfer the night for yourself?"
Fey’s cheeks burned red. Her eyes fell downward to the sheets, fingers curling into the fabric as though caught with one’s hand in the cookie jar. She did not speak—her silence shouted louder than any words.
The air grew thick with suspicion, charged with hard, accusatory glances. Fey’s breathing shook, her throat contracting in an effort to swallow words that would not be swallowed. She was a thief caught red-handed, her allegiance suddenly in question.
Then—
Creak...
The door to the chamber creaked open, the noise slicing through their tempest like a knife. The warm firelight spread towards the corridor, darkness extending. The eyes of all the women were drawn, their breath trapped in their throats as if the night itself had stopped.