Supreme Spouse System.

Chapter 143: Queen Sona

Queen Sona

As he rounded the soft bend in the walk, he saw another fountain—larger, more elegant, as though it had been set to crown the center of the garden. Water ran in ribbons from a silver sculpture of twined wings, catching the air with a songlike hum that echoed like music whispered. At the bottom, roses of rings bloomed in guarded symmetry: white as snowdrift, gentle as dawn-pink, crimson-deep as blood, and the elusive violet stardusk roses—petals softly alight, as if nibbled by moon. But it was not the roses that Leon noticed.

It was the single figure standing beside the fountain.

She had her back to him, her fingers running lightly over the edge of the flowering roses as though she was enjoying their feel.

Her stance was tall, statuesque—graceful by nature. She wasn’t attired in a maid’s garb, or that of a gardener’s worker. but there was something else in her stance—poise, refinement as though she is some sort of lady. And She didn’t move quickly, as if responding to the world, eager to hurry through it. She belonged here, as much as the flowers or the fountain itself. From where Leon stood, he could only see her back-and her hair.

Long silver-white strands cascaded like mist drifted softly along the garden breeze.

The sun wove through her hair turning it into delicate ribbons of light. It cascaded down her back in smooth waves, shining like moonlight—near-perfect, almost unreal. Her form, clad in a high-waisted white skirt that swept around her ankles and a plain black blouse, was tranquilly beautiful—motionless, unhurried. She seemed to belong there, not like a stranger, but like a part of the garden itself. Leon froze half-way across the step, arrested by what he saw. He didn’t stir or speak. He merely watched.

The world around him hung back, slowed, the air heavy with stillness.

He blinked, attempting to stabilize the odd weight on his chest.

Why did she feel familiar?

The question lingered in his head, unsolved but impossible to dismiss.

So he reached for his memories, looking for the origin.

But what had stirred was deeper—images and feelings he hadn’t lived through, only inherited. Fragments of memories from the man whose name and face he now wore: the original Leon.

With them came a flicker of something half-forgotten—no, half-buried—a shadowed memory he had never try to examine. Vague flashes scattered like shards: The sound of laughter. A girl’s voice.

Leon exhaled slowly, his throat tight for reasons he couldn’t name.

For the first time since waking in this body—since entering this life as Leon Moonwalker—he sensed something raw.

Regret.

Sorrow.

Longing.

Then confusion. Why these emotions? Why now?

He probed deeper, pushing beyond the top of his memories, into the still spaces the original Leon had locked away his old memories.

And gradually—like light seeping through the mist—something started to form.

A face in the haze.

A pair of happy eyes.

A gentle voice saying his name.

Then, deep in memory, a name surfaced—soft, tentative, and haunting.

A name that had never occurred to him before.

But it felt... burdensome. Familiar.

Sona.

The present Queen of Moonstone.

The first Leon’s best child friend.

And. the girl whom he had once wished secretly to be his own.

In spite of the sickness that assailed him, he had wanted her—intensely, silently, forlornly.

But he had never uttered those words out loud. Never got the moment. Or perhaps, in his heart, he felt that he never should.

And now she was another woman’s. A queen, a wife, far from the boy who used to walk alongside her under starry trees.

Perhaps that’s why the memory still pained

But as Leon remained there, staring at the solitary form beside the roses, a realization found lodging within him—silent, unwelcome, but inescapable.

These were no longer someone else’s memories.

They were his.

And that woman—Sona—alone in the garden.

She wasn’t merely a queen.

She was a fragment of the original Leon’s heart that had never released.

Leon lingered there for a moment more, quiet, observing her back as the wind ruffled her silver-white hair. The garden around her appeared to blur while he gazed—the gentle rub of leaves, the fragrance of roses, the sound of the fountain—all receded into the distance.

She alone was left, softly running her fingers through the roses as if lost in contemplation, oblivious to the storm she’d unleashed behind her.

An odd warmth rested in the center of his chest.

A memory, a sense, a past that never belonged to him... and yet it did somehow.

He blinked his eyes shut momentarily, then released a slow breath and shook his head.

A smile graced his lips—tentative at first.

”So. I’ve inherited his memories,” he whispered to himself. ”His name, his life. then I have to take all that came with it—with open arms. His decisions. His joy.

Then his eyes tightened, and the smile altered—beyond recognition.

”And how could I proceed while holding his regrets?” he murmured. ”No... I’ll take his those regret as well.”

The words became rooted in his chest like reality. He hadn’t sought this life, but it was his now. Everything.

His voice turned internal, soft but resolute. Then how eh think

”When I arrived in this world, I gave myself a vow. Live free. Live fully. No chains. No fear. No regrets.”

He gazed at Sona once more—not as a recollection, not as the ghost of another person’s past... But as a living person. And as one still within his grasp.

”Perhaps the old Leon couldn’t say what he felt,” he mused.

”Maybe he didn’t have the strength. Maybe his illness took more than just his body—it took his confidence, his chance, too.”

He straightened, taking a deeper breath. ”But me? I’m not him.”

”I’m alive. Strong. Whole. Healthy. And as for courage...” He chuckled softly, a spark of mischief in his eyes. ”Well, let’s just say I’ve got enough courage to woo a queen.”

There was laughter in the words, but deeper too—a flash of determination under the smile.

”I’m already going to claim the Moonstone throne anyway,” he went on, half in earnest, half-smiling. ”So why not claim the queen as well? And here I have my perfect excuse.”

His voice was playful, but within something was germinating—a glimmer of purpose. Not ambition alone, but something more personal.

He held his eyes on her back for one more moment, then breathed in deeply. There was a small smile—quieter, but no less resolute.

With that smile, he took one step forward towards her, poised to step away from regret and take the life—and joy—he really desired.