Leon slowly opened his eyes.

What lay before him—

Huh.

What lay before him was another pair of eyes.

Soft blue pupils, warm and crystalline, framed by long lashes that blinked gently—so adorably.

“Daddy, you’re awake~”

Little Muen was sitting cross-legged like a duck at the edge of Leon's pillow, patiently waiting for his awakening.

The moment she saw him open his eyes, her childish face burst into uncontrollable delight.

The tuft of hair atop her head and the tail behind her swayed lightly with her excitement.

Leon took a moment to regain some clarity and attempted to sit up.

Seeing this, Muen immediately moved forward, supporting his arm to help him lean against the headboard.

Just as he was about to thank her, a mild pain in his hand interrupted him.

Looking down, he discovered his right hand was wrapped in a layer of bandages.

It was from last night, when he encountered a group of Dragon Slayers in the forest with Roswitha. He had stepped forward to stop Roswitha and sustained burns from her magical energy.

And now, it had already been tended to...

“I wrapped that up for you, Daddy! I did it!”

Noticing that Leon was staring at the bandages on his hand, Muen eagerly piped up, claiming credit.

She puffed out her chest with pride, her little tail lifting even higher.

Leon let out a tired smile and raised his hand to pat Muen on the head. “Yes, you did great, Muen.”

Being patted on the head by Leon seemed to make Muen even happier. Like a cat, she rubbed her soft little head against Leon's broad palm.

Muen squinted as she smiled, clearly enjoying the gesture.

Her affection toward Leon had no trace of hostility. She saw him as her father, whole-heartedly and without reservation.

Because of this, even though she bore obvious traits of the Dragon Clan, it was impossible for Leon to harbor any enmity toward her—let alone loathing her as a sworn enemy.

Besides...

She was just such an unbearably adorable little dragon girl.

When it came to visual traits like "beautiful" or "cute," Dragon Clan hatchlings indeed had an edge over humans.

They grew more quickly, matured earlier, and experienced physical and outward changes much sooner than humans.

This made Leon ponder a question:

How in the world did Roswitha—a perpetually scowling and grudge-bearing mad dragon—manage to produce such a sweet and docile daughter?

True, Dragon Clan hatchlings had inherent advantages in appearance, but their personalities often leaned toward the Dragon Clan's innate ferocity and dominance from a young age.

Leon had read a fair share of research papers penned by dragon scholars, who all unanimously agreed that a dragon's life was one steeped in violence and bloodshed—including during their youth.

But looking at Muen now, there was nothing violent about her.

Could it be... the result of being a human-dragon hybrid...?

As Leon was lost in thought, the door creaked open.

Not even a knock. It was obvious who had arrived—it could only be that mad dragon.

Leon quickly retracted his hand from Muen's head and sank further against the headboard.

Slow, deliberate footsteps of high heels echoed on the floor.

Dressed in casual wear, Roswitha entered the bedroom.

Usually, her silver hair was meticulously kept, but now it cascaded freely down her back like a gleaming silver cloak.

Her makeup was lighter today, yet undeniably, Roswitha remained a stunning beauty even without any deliberate embellishment.

Her silver dragon eyes no longer showed the wrath and ferocity from last night but instead resembled the lazy elegance of a queen.

“Good morning, Mother,” Muen hopped off the large bed and greeted Roswitha with an upturned face.

“Good morning, Muen. How long has your father been awake?”

“He just woke up. Before that, I tended to his wounds, just like you instructed, Mother.”

Roswitha nodded in approval. “Very well done, Muen.”

Muen's eyes lit up. “Thank you, Mother!”

As the saying goes, a mother is kind while the father is strict.

But in this unconventional "family," the roles seemed reversed.

Leon played the part of the gentle and loving father, while Roswitha took on the mantle of the stern and severe mother.

Yet, just a simple word of praise was enough to make Muen glow with joy.

Leon silently took note of this dynamic.

“Go play in the backyard for now, Muen.”

“Hmm...”

Muen lowered her head, twiddling her short fingers as she grumbled, “But I want to stay with Daddy...”

“What did you say?” Roswitha asked nonchalantly.

“Ah, n-nothing! I’m going to the backyard right now!”

With that, the little dragon girl scampered out of the room gleefully.

Once again, the room was left with only Leon and Roswitha.

The two exchanged stoic glances, neither saying a word.

After about ten seconds of stalemate, Leon was the first to speak. “Aren’t you being too harsh on her?”

“We Dragon Clan educate our young in this way.”

“But she isn’t fully a dragon.”

Roswitha frowned. “And whose fault do you think it is that she’s not fully a dragon?”

Leon raised a brow. “Oh, are you upset now?”

Sensing a chance to provoke her, he pressed further, “How was I supposed to know I’d hit the mark on the first try? But honestly, it all turned out fine. Our daughter’s pretty cute, wouldn’t you agree?”

Roswitha gritted her teeth, her silver eyes dropping their earlier ease and reverting to their usual coldness.

“She’s a dragon, Leon. Being ‘cute’ is an insult to a dragon.”

“Well, I think you’re pretty cute,” Leon retorted.

“...I can’t even communicate with you,” Roswitha snapped.

“Oh? Can’t communicate with me, yet here I am, still in your care. If you can’t stand me, throw me to the wolves or kill me already. Simple solutions.”

With a cold scoff, Roswitha turned away and sat on the bed, her back to Leon. “I told you, I won’t let you die. You’ll only live so that I can continue tormenting you.”

Hearing this, Leon’s pupils flickered slightly. After a pause, he replied, “But having to see the man who robbed you of your purity every day... isn’t that torment for you too?”

Roswitha shrugged it off. “So what? As long as it makes you suffer, that’s all that matters.”

“Well, then I’ll just keep myself from suffering; let you suffer instead.”

“Do you think I’m afraid of you?”

“Hah? Do you think I’d be afraid of you? I—”

Without warning, Roswitha stood up, forcing Leon to swallow the rest of his retort.

Whenever this dragon drew close, it never meant anything good.

But this time, Roswitha did not humiliate Leon through 'intercourse' as she had before.

Instead, she walked to the wardrobe, pulled out several pristine sets of men’s clothing, and tossed them onto the bed beside Leon.

“Get dressed and go play with Muen in the backyard.”

Leon glanced at the neatly pressed clothes and grumbled, “Why don’t you go play with your daughter? Why bother making me do it?”

He didn’t say this out of sheer obstinance. It was because he had indeed noticed something off... something odd in Roswitha’s behavior.

Take his injury, for example. She could’ve treated his wound herself but insisted on directing Muen—a barely over-a-year-old dragon girl—to do it.

And now, she wanted him to spend time with their daughter, despite herself being the one who presumably wanted to.

No wonder Dragon Clan members grew up to be so extreme and fixated. Raised in such an environment, even humans would likely snap.

“What do you mean she’s my daughter? She’s your daughter too, isn’t she?” Roswitha snapped back.

“I—”

Well, she had a point.

Leon was momentarily at a loss for words.

“I am the queen of the Silver Dragon Clan. I can’t afford to behave like a common woman in a peasant household, spending my days raising a child. A queen has her own way of conducting herself. I expect you to understand that, Leon.”

“Queens don’t raise children. Ever seen a Dragon Slayer raise one?” Leon countered.

“And you call yourself a Dragon Slayer, having been slept with by a dragon?” Roswitha shot back.

“...”

“You’re nothing but a slave upon whom I vent my rage, Leon. Now, do you understand? If so, go spend time with Muen. She seems to enjoy being around you.”

Roswitha’s words left no room for further argument. Leon resignedly got out of bed and changed into the clothes provided.

It wasn’t until he was fully dressed that he realized these weren’t typical human men’s clothes. Judging by their design, they were distinctly rooted in Dragon Clan fashion.

Leon pulled at his sleeves, feeling a little out of place as he glanced at his reflection in the mirror.

Noticing this, Roswitha approached and, without a word, began straightening his attire.

Given that Leon was taller, Roswitha had to adjust his collar while looking up. As Leon instinctively lowered his head, his lips brushed ever so slightly against her fingertips.

The moment evoked an unbidden memory in Leon’s mind.

Back when he was training under his master, whenever his master was about to head out, his wife would carefully adjust his attire—just like Roswitha was doing now.

His master and mistress had always been a loving couple. No matter how unreliable or aloof his master seemed to others, he was forever a good husband in his wife’s eyes.

“All done.”

Roswitha’s voice broke Leon’s reverie. She stepped back, surveying him with a critical eye before nodding in satisfaction. “You’re good to go.”

Leon said nothing as he trudged sullenly toward the door.

Roswitha watched his retreating figure, her gaze lingering until the door closed with a distinct thud.

Silence filled the room once more. After a brief pause, Roswitha moved toward the window, inhaling deeply before exhaling slowly.

Moments later, a dragon subspecies—no bigger than a pigeon—landed softly on the windowsill.

“A messenger dragon...” she murmured.

These diminutive dragon subspecies, bred specifically for conveying messages across different races, were known as messenger dragons.

This particular one carried a small bamboo cylinder secured to its back with a red ribbon.

Roswitha took down the bamboo tube, opened it, and poured out a letter from inside.

After reading two lines, Roswitha frowned slightly, "Why does sister have to visit at this particular time..."