The imposing hallways of Moonwalker Estate stretched out before us like quiet observers to the increasing intimacy of the night. Polished marble floors glowed with the soft light of chandeliers above, and ornate golden motifs adorned the arched ceilings like old murals that whispered aristocratic secrets.
Leon and Rias strode side by side down the darkened hallway, their steps silent but refined. The whisper of incense wafted through the air—lavender and moon lily, a hallmark of the estate's heritage. The stillness of night enveloped them, interrupted only by the quiet rustle of Rias's scarlet robe and the soft hum of wind caressing stained-glass windows.
The Moonwalker Estate's dining hall stood like a jewel nestled within its heart.
Towering double doors opened into a majestic chamber—expansive, yet tastefully warm. Tall windows lined one side of the room, moonlight streaming through sheer curtains like silver silk. The walls were adorned with oil paintings of dragons and noble ancestors, and dark wood furniture gleamed beneath the golden candlelight.
Although vast, the mansion's population was sparse—only a handful of trusted maids were left, gliding like whispers in the shadows, their presence discreet and respectful.
At the vast obsidian dining table, Leon sat at the head—the seat of honor of the master of the house.
Rias, without reservation, elegantly sat to his left.
The table was opulent, yet elegant—adorned with crystal decanters of violet berry wine, and silver plates filled with sizzling, savory slices of magical beast flesh, grilled to an apian. On the side lay roasted moon-leaf herbs, golden rice tinged with starlight spice, and an unusual delicacy—flamefruit glazed with honey, softly radiating fire-elemental energy.
Rias leaned in, her face gentle and aglow, a doting wife attending to her husband. She reached out and tenderly served Leon's plate, cutting a bit of flame-grilled wyvern meat, serving it with golden rice and crisp greens. Each action was filled with love and concern, her eyes rising to him now and then with warm adoration.
Leon regarded her with a quiet smile pulling at his lips.
"You're spoiling me tonight," he declared, chuckling and moved.
"If I don't spoil my man," she said with a grin, "then someone else might."
Her tone was playful, but the shine in her deep red eyes was packed with teasing.
Leon leaned over and, in retaliation, grasped her plate and filled it with exactness—his reply to her action.
"There. Fair is fair, isn't it?"
Rias blinked in surprise, then laughed gently, her smile blooming like a rose in spring.
"...You're not supposed to be this sweet. You're making it hard to stay composed," she whispered, eyes sparkling.
Leon chuckled. "Then lose your composure."
She bit her lip, a blush blooming across her cheeks—but she held his gaze, bold and unflinching.
And then Leon took his first bite—a piece of tender, spiced meat—and nodded in approval.
"You have very good taste," he told her.
"I know," she said, sparkling.
And then, out of the blue, he leaned forward, picked up another tiny morsel of meat on his fork, and held it out to her.
"Say 'ah,' sweetheart."
Rias gazed at the action for a moment, mouth opening in shock.
But then she leaned forward, never looking away from him, and took the bite.
Her cheeks grew warm as she chewed slowly, eyes flickering slightly at the taste—and maybe at the proximity between them.
"...Mm. Yum," she murmured. "Though I think it tasted better because it was from you."
Leon raised an eyebrow. "Now you're flirting."
The night wore on, longer than either had anticipated.
They teased. They laughed. They shared sips of wine, bites, soft smiles that did more than words ever could, and quiet glances. Each moment they spent together provided another thread for the tapestry between them—real, unspoken, intimate.
The plates were slowly drained, candles burnt down, but neither of them got up until the final sip of wine was enjoyed.
At last, Leon got up and held out his hand.
Rias accepted it with a gentle inclination of her head, standing up elegantly. "Let's."
The corridor back to Leon's room was more subdued than before. The estate seemed to inhale in synchronization with the moonlight.
Rias led the way, a step or two ahead of him.
Her walk was elegant—each step smooth and purposeful, as if a dancer. But there was a swing to her hips, a subtle, knowledgeable rhythm that wasn't there before. She was flirting with him, and she knew it.
Her scarlet robe clung to her waist with each movement, the smooth fabric flowing behind her like liquid flame.
Leon, grinning, slowed his pace, observing her in silence.
"Attempting to flirt with me?" he said with a smile under his breath, raising an eyebrow. "Or is that your normal walking manner?"
It was in place by the time they were before his door: tension suspended between them, sticky as honey—sweet, rich, and irrevocable.
Rias entered first, her body eclipsed by the warm firelight of the room.
Leon closed the door with a soft thud.
And then, without warning, he stepped forward and had his arms around her from behind.
Rias gasped softly, her breath catching at the feel of his warmth around her.
"D-Daddy?" she whispered, her eyes blinking.