Leon slowly opened his eyes.

In front of him was a beautiful woman lying on her side, so close that he could hear her breathing.

The morning sunlight spilled onto Roswitha’s silver hair, resembling immaculate winter snow—pure and flawless, too sacred to be disturbed.

Her eyes were gently closed, her long lashes distinct and delicate. The usual sorrow and gloom on her exquisite face had disappeared, leaving her looking utterly relaxed and at peace.

Staring at the beautiful woman before him, Leon found himself, almost unconsciously, reaching out to gently brush her cheek with his fingertips.

His lips even curled up into a faint smile without him realizing it.

But in the next moment, Leon’s smile froze abruptly.

A jarring realization hit him: such a serene and tender morning could never belong to him!

Leon’s fingertips lingered at Roswitha’s jaw. Following the motion, he brushed aside the hair on her neck, revealing her slender, pale throat.

What greeted his eyes shocked him—it was littered with red kiss marks, like a string of startling flowers blooming on the snow-white surface.

Leon swallowed hard at the sight.

Pulling back the covers, he saw more such marks on Roswitha’s shoulders, chest, and thighs.

It was far worse than the aftermath of the Black Dragon Bolus night.

And when he finally glanced down at himself, his own body was similarly covered in love bites and red marks.

His limbs felt weak, his muscles sore.

The marks and the aches stirred fragmented memories of the events from the previous night.

The finer details eluded him now—most of it was a blur.

All he vaguely recalled was Roswitha calling him “puppy,” to which he actually responded with cheerful enthusiasm.

Not to mention, he seemed unusually… proactive last night, almost absurdly eager, like an insatiable newlywed husband.

Surely, Roswitha must have thoroughly enjoyed herself.

She had succeeded in leading Leon into depravity, making him willingly renounce his pride and dignity as a Dragon Slayer to indulge in an intimate union with her—a female dragon.

To Leon, this was undoubtedly yet another soul-crushing humiliation that pushed his personal boundaries further.

At the thought of it, Leon bit his lip in frustration and clenched his fists in indignation before yanking the covers aside to get out of bed.

He intentionally made loud noises, aiming to wake Roswitha up.

Yet the dragoness appeared to be deeply asleep.

No matter how noisy Leon was, she showed no sign of stirring.

“To sleep this deeply… isn’t that unusual for you? Aren’t you usually so disciplined?”

Leon muttered as he finished getting dressed.

Looking at the chaotic mess in the room, he hesitated before picking up a broom to start tidying up.

He wasn’t doing it for Roswitha’s love of cleanliness. Rather, he worried that if his daughters came over and saw the disarray, they would undoubtedly bombard him with questions.

And such scenes would also taint their innocent hearts!

Plus, if the maids saw it, they’d flash Leon those knowing, mysterious smiles again.

What do you know? Don't act like you know!

Such thoughts made Leon feel embarrassingly awkward.

And so, he cleaned every nook and cranny—especially high-priority areas like the sofa and the bed, which were not only incredibly messy but also bore traces of some unidentified liquids. Those definitely had to be cleaned thoroughly, or they’d be an eyesore.

When it came to changing the sheets, Leon used the broom’s handle to poke at Roswitha’s backside.

“Hey, stop pretending to sleep. Get up. I need to change the sheets.”

Still, Roswitha did not respond.

Not even a disgruntled groan of protest from being disturbed.

She just lay there in total silence.

Leon frowned, the unease creeping in.

Putting down the broom, he sat on the edge of the bed and lightly shook Roswitha’s shoulder.

“Roswitha? Hey, wake up. Quit pretending.”

But there was no response.

Leon’s eyes narrowed. He immediately checked her breath and then felt her wrist for a pulse.

Everything seemed normal.

But why… couldn’t she wake up?

Could it have something to do with last night?

Leon sifted through his memories.

Yesterday, this she-dragon had used "Blood Enchantment" on him to fight fire with fire.

And though the enchantment came with the restriction of “usable only once in a lifetime,” it also took a severe toll on the caster’s body after activation.

The extent of the damage depended on the caster’s innate physical condition.

Back when Leon had been on the brink of death and used the spell, it wasn’t surprising that he ended up bedridden for two years.

So, was Roswitha’s current comatose state also a result of the Blood Enchantment?

Leon believed this guess was pretty close to the truth.

He recalled studying similar principles during his academy days.

The course had emphasized predicting the potential outcomes of magic spells based on the caster’s and target’s respective conditions.

It was a method Leon had also applied when finely manipulating lightning magic to break down the remnants of the Black Dragon Bolus potion.

Gazing at Roswitha’s sleeping face, Leon let out a sneer.

“You said the Blood Enchantment didn’t affect you, huh? Foolish dragon.”

He leaned in slightly, lightly patting her cheek.

"Messed up, didn't you?"

Leon thought back to all the disastrous mistakes he himself had made—sneaking away after waking up, challenging a fully-healed Dragon King while wounded—each time, without fail, he had messed up.

This time, it seemed, was finally Roswitha’s turn.

The satisfaction warmed Leon’s heart.

But amidst the satisfaction, he didn’t neglect estimating how long Roswitha might remain unconscious.

When Leon, near death, used the Blood Enchantment, it rendered him comatose for a full two years.

As for Roswitha, in robust Dragon King health…

She would probably remain unconscious for a week, at most.

“A week, huh…”

Leon strolled out to the balcony, gazing at the distant woods.

That was… the direction of the Empire.

Without a doubt, Roswitha’s unexpected coma presented Leon the perfect opportunity to flee.

If he abandoned everything here and ran right away,

a week would give him enough time to reach humanity’s borderlands.

But… things weren’t that simple.

Leon wasn’t as reckless as he had been upon awakening over a month ago.

Firstly, while his body had barely started to recover, yesterday’s sparring match with Roswitha had caused him some injuries.

On top of that, after last night’s… activities, he was left even more physically drained.

Theoretically, reaching human territory within a week might sound plausible.

In reality, Leon doubted he could make it that far.

Moreover, Roswitha wouldn’t stay unconscious forever. If she woke up early and dragged him back, the punishment she’d subject him to would undoubtedly escalate.

Leon wasn’t willing to risk that.

Secondly, it had already been two years since he fled the Empire, and he had no idea what the current state of affairs there was.

What’s more, he still hadn’t unraveled the mystery of why he’d been betrayed back then.

It was likely intertwined with the Empire’s internal power struggles.

His master had warned him about such dangers, after all.

If Leon recklessly returned now, it was uncertain whether he would be greeted with a hero’s welcome or thrust into another living hell.

For his personal safety, staying in the Silver Dragon Castle was the best choice—for now. He could continue recovering in peace.

Additionally, he had already asked Roswitha to investigate his master’s whereabouts.

Although there hadn’t been any recent updates, Leon trusted that Roswitha wouldn’t toy with him when it came to this matter.

And finally, the most important reason of all—

“Big sister, hurry up! Let’s play in the garden!”

“Muen, slow down! Don’t trip and fall.”

From the Castle outside, the laughter of two little girls rang out.

Lowering his gaze, Leon looked toward them.

The most important reason was his daughters.

At this point, Leon couldn’t simply leave his daughters behind and walk away.

Muen, the little one, would be devastated beyond consolation;

While Noa, stoic and seemingly distant toward Leon, possessed a warm heart underneath her cold exterior. She yearned for family but was too cautious to open up fully.

Leon didn’t want to hurt them. He didn’t want to disappoint them.

He adored his daughters—a love deeply rooted in his veins, unshakable and eternal.

So…

After factoring everything in, the wisest choice for Leon was to remain here for now.

For himself. For his daughters.

And, of course, for—

Revenge against that dragoness.

Leon’s steps carried him back to the bedroom.

He sat at the edge of the bed once more, extending a finger to softly press against Roswitha’s tender lips.

At this moment, Roswitha was as fragile as a house cat, entirely at Leon’s mercy.

For a brief moment, Leon’s gaze toward Roswitha shifted—it was no longer that of her false husband.

It mirrored the sharp vigilance of a Dragon Slayer watching over a Dragon King marked for slaughter.

“From this second on, Roswitha, I’ll watch your every move.”

“You like to repay everything in kind, don’t you?”

“Well, then. This time, I’ll grant your wish.”

For a Dragon Slayer, no other prize comes close to the perfection of a dragon.

Born fearless, they fight to their final breath.

Who says that staying in the Silver Dragon Castle doesn’t make one a hero?