Roswitha's lips twitched slightly.
“W-who's your wife? Let go of me right now!”
As she spoke, Roswitha tried to pull her tail out of Leon’s grip.
But Leon simply hugged her tail fully into his chest.
Roswitha felt her waist weaken, but she still reached out, grabbing the base of her tail and attempting to wrest it back with her strength.
Yet for some inexplicable reason, Leon seemed to have gone mad, not only clinging tightly to her tail but also rubbing his face against it incessantly.
“That’s enough, you idiot! Let go of—give—me—my—tail!”
Roswitha, accustomed to Leon's usual stubborn and tough demeanor, was not at all prepared for this...
Um.
What would this even be called?
Drunken antics?
Whining?
Ah, whatever!
The point was—give her tail back!
Pulling hard at the base of her tail with one hand, Roswitha braced her foot against Leon’s chest to create some leverage, effectively turning the situation into a tug-of-war match.
“Wifey!”
His pronunciation of the word was clear and precise, he meant business.
Roswitha's cheeks flushed with a faint red hue, but she still ignored Leon and focused on yanking her tail back.
“Wifey! Why won’t you talk to me?”
“......I will absolutely not respond to you!”
Having recently ingested the Black Dragon Bolus, Leon had indeed regained his physical strength swiftly.
For Roswitha, relying solely on brute force to retrieve her tail was proving impossible.
“Wifey~ You've been back at your mother’s for two years, and I’ve been missing you to death~”
Exhausted from tugging, Roswitha stood by the bed with her hands on her hips, catching her breath. “Trust me, Dragon Slayer, if your wife really did spend two years at her mother’s, there would only be one reason—you're about to become her ex-husband.”
“Wifey, don’t be mad at me, okay~? I promise I’ll never dirty your dresses again!”
Roswitha scratched the tip of her nose.
She realized that regardless of how delirious Leon was acting, there was something disturbingly familiar about his tone...
Thinking for a moment, Roswitha's eyes lit up in realization.
“Muen.”
When focused, he was like Noa;
But in this chaotic state, he was just like Muen.
No surprise there—Roswitha couldn’t help but silently marvel at the resemblance between father and son.
Though, what could possibly have caused him to act this way...
Roswitha rubbed her chin in thought, her brows furrowing slightly.
The Black Dragon Bolus should only serve to strengthen the body. Aside from that, it shouldn’t cause symptoms like... mental detachment or hallucinations.
Leon, meanwhile, was sitting on the bed, cradling Roswitha’s tail as if it were a precious treasure, swaying it back and forth gleefully.
Watching him, Roswitha raised her hand to her chest, attempting to sense her Dragon Mark.
Nothing.
“Looks like it’s really just a case of delirium.”
Such symptoms were something Roswitha had never encountered before, nor did she have an idea of how long they might last.
But since her Dragon Mark showed no reaction and the children were likely already asleep, she wasn’t in a rush to leave.
Letting out a breath of relief, she sat down beside Leon.
She resigned herself to letting him hold her tail for the time being. For now, she wasn’t planning on wrestling it back.
But Leon remained restless.
“Wifey~”
“......” Roswitha had no intention of acknowledging him.
“Wifey, wifey~”
“Go away.”
“Wifey, wifey, wifey, wifey, wifey——”
“Ugh, fine, fine, I’m here, I’m here! What? Speak.”
Roswitha couldn’t outlast the relentless pestering of a doped-up fool.
However, even as she complained, the redness on Roswitha's face deepened.
Without realizing it herself, the term “wifey,” coming from Leon’s lips, had caused her a faint, negligent sliver of... joy?
“Wifey, I want another child,” Leon proclaimed with grave seriousness.
“... You’ve barely managed the two we have now. Spare me.”
“But I really want another baby, I really do! Let’s have another tomorrow, okay?”
Roswitha palmed her face silently.
This resemblance to “Adult Male Muen on a Rampage” was far too uncanny.
Could it really be that, deep down in the heart of this majestic Dragon Slayer, such a ridiculous side existed?
“Say something, wifey! Can we have another baby?”
“Fine, fine. Another it is, another it is. We’ll have a second, a third, a fourth. All of them.”
Roswitha began to humor him. “It’s not like the Dragon Clan has family-planning limits anyway.”
“Yay! Wifey, you’re the best! Muuuuu~~~”
Leon puckered up and leaned in for a kiss.
Roswitha quickly raised a hand, pressing her palm squarely against his face, “Quit taking advantage of me, you idiot.”
But this “muu” of his? Leon intended to land it somewhere tonight.
“Muuua!”
And sure enough, he planted a big kiss—right on Roswitha’s tail.
......
......
This was officially the most bewildering night Roswitha had experienced in two centuries.
The tragic part? The night had only just begun.
“Wifey,” Leon’s tone suddenly shifted, dipping lower.
“What now?”
Thud—
Leon leaned sideways, resting his head against Roswitha’s shoulder.
Her body tensed slightly at the contact, but she didn’t push him off. She let him lean against her.
“Mom and Dad miss you, too.”
Leon lowered his gaze to the floor, his voice tinged with unshakable loneliness and melancholy. “It’s been two years since we’ve visited them. When can we go back together to see them?”
Mom and Dad...
Oh.
Right. It must’ve been about his master and mistress.
Roswitha turned her head slightly, her chin brushing his hair as she raised her hand to pat him lightly on the cheek.
Her voice softened.
“When we’ve settled down, we’ll go back.”
“Really, wifey?”
Roswitha hesitated for a moment and nodded. “Mm, really.”
“Wifey, you’re amazing!”
Smack—and there it was again, another kiss planted on Roswitha’s tail.
But this time, the queen didn’t reject him nor scold him.
She simply stared blankly at the side of this man’s face.
No.
At this moment, he wasn’t the Empire’s fierce and valiant Dragon Slayer.
He was just a... boy longing for home.
Still, bowing to fate, going back wasn’t an option anymore.
So, under the haze clouding his mind, she might as well indulge him just this once.
“Wifey.”
Leon’s voice drew Roswitha out of her thoughts. She instinctively responded.
“Mm?”
The moment she replied, Roswitha froze.
Why had she answered so naturally?
As if... for some reason, being Leon’s “wifey” felt... right?
Shaking her head slightly, she told herself in her mind—it’s just an act, simply playing along with a delirious fool’s antics.
“I... I’m not feeling well.”
Roswitha turned her head toward him. “Where does it hurt?”
“I don’t know exactly...” Leon scratched at his chest. “I just feel, like... hot all over, itchy around my chest...”
Roswitha’s gaze flickered. The next second, something clicked in her mind.
She pulled apart Leon’s collar and glanced at the Dragon Mark on his chest.
“Damn.”
The Dragon Mark was faintly glowing, and the light was only growing stronger.
And that “uncomfortable” feeling Leon described? It was starting to creep through Roswitha’s own body now.
“Help me, wifey... I feel so awful...”
As he spoke, Leon shuffled even closer, his entire body pressing up against Roswitha.
He reached out, trying to grab her jaw to tilt her face toward his lips.
But Roswitha, clinging to a shred of rationality, directly turned her head away, brushing off his hand. “Don’t, Leon...”
“But I’m really feeling terrible, wifey... you can help me, can’t you?”
“I... I... no—ah!”
Without warning, Leon pressed her shoulders, pinning her onto the bed.
“Leon, you bastard... what are you trying to do?!”
Roswitha struggled, attempting to break free, but this version of Leon wasn’t the same as before.
He seemed to radiate an overwhelming strength.
Holding the tip of her tail in his mouth, Leon managed to free his hands—to do something else entirely “meaningful.”
He ripped open his shirt, exposing the Dragon Mark on his chest blazing with energy.
Only now, something about it began to change.
In addition to its faint glow, small sparks of electricity crackled across its surface.
“Is that... lightning energy?”
Roswitha’s eyes widened slightly. Then her gaze shifted to another concern.
She stared at the tip of her tail held firmly between Leon’s teeth. With a resigned sigh, she muttered, “My tail’s been dragging on the ground all day, and you’re just putting it in your mouth? Not grossed out?”
Leon, words muffled by the tail in his mouth, replied indistinctly, “Your tail smells nice and clean, wifey.”
“That’s beside the point! Let go of it!”
Roswitha yanked her tail free from Leon’s bite.
Meanwhile, the reaction from his Dragon Mark continued intensifying.
She had no idea what lightning energy mixing into a Dragon Mark might entail.
But the sensation in her own body was telling—it heightened the impulse for... “procreation.” Far stronger than any she’d ever felt.
Gripping the bedsheets beneath her tightly, she bit her lower lip, attempting a final act of defiance before both their rational thoughts dissipated.
“No, Leon... this... this isn’t right...”
Leon simply raised his hand, pressing his index finger gently against Roswitha's lips.
With just this single "silencing" gesture, it became evident that his demeanor was entirely different from moments ago.
Within his playful, irreverent attitude lay a dangerous mix of madness and brutality that made it impossible to refuse him.
"Le...on..."
She wanted to say something, but found that when the words reached her lips, nothing came out.
Despite being treated in the most disrespectful, most offensive way by this man, Roswitha felt no anger at all.
In fact, quite the opposite.
She even felt a trace of... anticipation.
"Melkevi, you're breathtaking tonight." His voice was husky, his gaze intense.
The silver-haired beauty's pupils trembled, her eyes rippling with hazy emotions, tinged with shock and surprise.
"Alright then... just for tonight."
The queen relaxed her tense body ever so slightly.
A blush spread across her exquisite face as her consciousness gradually surrendered, willingly embracing the mesmerizing sensations brought by the Dragon Mark.
Boom—
A clap of thunder roared, like the call to battle.
Inside the room, decadent sounds flowed—a feast of indulgence and abandon.
Outside, the storm raged, with torrential rain and deafening thunder.
The downpour intertwined with the lightning, each crash of thunder accompanied by an even stronger onslaught of rain.
Raindrops pelted the glass fiercely, producing crisp, sharp sounds.
The howling wind rushed in through the small gaps, transforming into an ambiguous, intoxicating heat.
This was a rainstorm that seemed unending.
It appeared it would not stop until morning.