At this very moment, Leon finally understood Roswitha's peculiar sense of joy.

So this was what it felt like—watching someone who wanted to take your life yet was utterly helpless, all while enduring physical torment.

One word:

Delightful!

Of course, the joy didn’t stop there.

Roswitha’s expression right now was so complicated that no words could accurately capture it.

Anger, frustration, resistance, reluctance—

And then there was that mix of yearning and rejection, the dissatisfaction paired with hatred for her own body’s betrayal and lack of resolve!

In that moment, Leon understood her;

And she, too, comprehended Leon.

For the first time ever, the two of them reached an unprecedented “mutual understanding.”

As the old saying goes, in every relationship, you should always put yourself in the other’s shoes and consider things from their perspective.

See? Wasn't Leon embodying that wisdom right now?

In a way that was incredibly profound, incredibly thorough.

Roswitha, who had just woken up, was extraordinarily weak. Not even twenty minutes had passed before she was utterly exhausted.

And yet, her frail appearance, paired with those eyes filled with unyielding defiance, carried a certain charm all its own.

As Roswitha slowly began to fade, her vision darkened.

She swallowed hard and suddenly spoke up, "Leon..."

"Hm? Begging for mercy already, Your Majesty the Queen?"

Roswitha let out a fatigued snort, narrowed her eyes, and, with a highly provocative tone, retorted,

“Is that all you’ve got? Did you miss a meal or something?”

Leon couldn't help but admire this dragoness’s audacity and grit.

At a moment like this, she could still keep up her tough front. Truly impressive.

But of course, she would also have to pay the price for her stubbornness.

Leon launched the final blow.

With a bone-shaking jolt of ecstasy rippling through her, Roswitha’s head suddenly buzzed.

The chandelier on the ceiling flickered in her vision. A sensation coursing through her entire body, equal parts pleasure and torment, rendered her hypersensitive and overwhelmed.

She wanted to rid herself of it, but her uncontrolled body revelled in reliving the sweetness of it all.

Her pale cheeks flushed a deep shade of crimson, her lips trembled slightly, and her heartbeat gradually stilled.

Finally, Roswitha lost all awareness, her eyes shutting as she fainted.

Leon, too, breathed heavily, taking a moment to steady himself. Once calm, he leaned forward, gently gripping Roswitha’s chin and giving it a light shake.

No response.

“Hmph, that’ll teach you to be stubborn.”

He got out of bed, cleaned her up, dressed her properly, and covered her with a blanket.

Afterward, he took a shower in the bathroom before leaving the room.

About two hours later, Leon returned, carrying Muen in his arms.

He also held a steaming hot bowl of fish soup.

By this time, Roswitha had regained consciousness.

Unbelievable, was she really just f*ed unconscious by this guy?!

She leaned against the headboard. Upon hearing footsteps, she immediately turned her face away, unwilling to see that jerk.

"Mom~"

Muen called out softly.

Roswitha sighed inwardly before slowly turning her head around.

She forced a weary smile. “Have you eaten, Muen?”

“Uh-huh! I’m full now. Daddy even brought fish soup for you. You should try some, Mom~”

"Mom's not hungry."

"Tsk, how can you not eat something while recovering?"

With all the devotion of a loving husband, Leon sat by her bedside, fish soup in hand.

Roswitha glared at him with an expression that suggested she'd love nothing more than to toss him into a pot and cook him into soup.

Leon scooped a bit of soup with a small spoon, blew on it gently, and then offered it to her lips. “Here, take a sip. I made this soup especially for you.”

"I’m not hungry," Roswitha said stubbornly.

"Don’t be so obstinate. The child’s here—you’re setting a bad example."

Muen had always been Leon’s most effective weapon.

Grinding her teeth, Roswitha glared daggers at him but reluctantly parted her lips.

Leon carefully brought the fish soup to her mouth.

“Does it taste good, Wifey?”

"..."

Roswitha squeezed out two words through her clenched teeth: “It’s... fine.”

"Good, if it’s fine, then have more."

And with that, another spoonful followed.

Roswitha obediently opened her mouth and drank.

As he fed her, Leon continued twisting the metaphorical knife.

"Fish soup is excellent for recovery after an illness. You should drink a lot so your body heals faster."

Roswitha let out a cold laugh. “Oh, I do want to get better as soon as possible.”

“Exactly. This home wouldn’t be the same without you, Wifey.”

After finishing the entire bowl of soup, Leon thoughtfully wiped away the bit of liquid left at the corner of her lips.

When Muen wasn't looking, Roswitha lowered her gaze. Fixing on Leon’s fingers, she bit down hard.

Leon clenched his other fist in pain but refrained from making a sound.

From where Muen was standing behind him, she couldn’t see Roswitha’s retaliation.

Biting might well be the only revenge this dragoness could manage right now.

If her only strong point was her mouth, wouldn’t it be a waste not to use it?

After exacting this small revenge, Roswitha released his hand and smugly remarked,

"Mm, not bad. Delicious."

Leon awkwardly pulled back his finger, quietly sticking it into his shirt pocket to rub it.

Damn it, dragon bite force sure was something else!

“I’m glad you like it, Wifey.”

Leon put the empty bowl aside and scooted even closer.

Roswitha panicked, “What are you doing?”

“Hey, after two days’ rest, don’t act all shy. I’m going to give you a massage—help you relax.”

"I don't need your massages."

"Mom, let Daddy do it!"

Muen’s excitement surged. “During the two days you were unconscious, Daddy took such great care of you!”

The corner of Roswitha’s mouth twitched slightly. “Him... care for me? How?”

“Well... like washing your face, hands, and feet. And he even massaged you and changed your clothes—"

"My clothes were—"

"Hm?" Muen tilted her head, confused by her mother’s sudden intensity.

Roswitha forced herself to calm down. "It’s nothing, that’s... fine. Totally fine."

“Alright, Wifey, now tell me—where do you feel unwell? I’ll massage it for you.”

“My whole body feels awful.”

“Then I’ll massage everywhere.”

Leon cracked his knuckles, eager to start.

Roswitha caved instantly, “Wait, wait, wait—I... suddenly feel better now. Just... just my feet are a bit numb. Massage those.”

"Roger that."

Leon positioned himself at the foot of the bed, lifted one corner of the blanket, and took Roswitha’s delicate foot in his hands, kneading it gently.

Meanwhile, Muen stood by the headboard, recounting in detail how diligently Leon had cared for Roswitha over the past two days.

Outwardly, Roswitha played along with a façade of “Wow, Daddy is so thoughtful, so gentle.”

But inside, she seethed: Kasmode, as soon as I recover, I will end you!

As she listened, she suddenly felt an itch under her sole.

“Ahh—!”

“Hm? What’s wrong, Wifey? Was the pressure too light?”

Roswitha glared at him. “It’s enough—more than enough. Thank you very much.”

Leon smiled slyly. “My pleasure, Wifey. Let me continue.”

“You—mmm!”

This scoundrel had started tickling the arch of her foot on purpose.

Roswitha gritted her teeth against the torturous tingling, her hands clutching the bedsheet beneath the blanket.

“Mom, and more—you know, Daddy didn’t leave your side unless he went to the back mountain. He was with you the whole time! Dad truly loves you so much~” Muen chirped happily.

Roswitha understood perfectly—the so-called “not leaving her side” wasn’t about caring for her.

It was about plotting the perfect moment to surprise her upon her awakening.

Exactly as she had done to him the first time he woke.

However...

“The back mountain?” Roswitha asked, enduring her foot’s torment. “What were you doing there?”

“Oh, nothing much. Just exploring to pass the time.”

Roswitha, of course, didn’t believe a word of it.

This guy was definitely up to something behind her back.

“Muen.” Roswitha watched Leon as she called her daughter’s name. “Go to bed now. I need to talk to your father.”

Muen obediently nodded and hopped off the bed. “Bye-bye, Daddy! Take good care of Mom~”

“I will, Sweetie. You can rest assured Daddy will take very good care of Mom.”

“Okay~”

Muen skipped out of the room.

The instant the door latched shut, Roswitha shot her foot toward Leon’s face.

Not that it mattered. Her body was far too weakened, and her sluggish movements gave Leon ample opportunity to reach out and catch her foot effortlessly.

“Had enough fish for tonight. Not in the mood for dragon claws.”

Roswitha retracted her leg and coldly demanded, “What were you doing at the back mountain?”

“Want to know?”

“Spill it.”

Leon stood and approached the bedside, slipping an arm beneath her. With a sweeping motion, he lifted Roswitha into a bridal carry.

Roswitha’s heart skipped a beat. “What are you doing?”

“Didn’t you say you wanted to know what I’ve been doing in the back mountain? I’ll take you there to see for yourself.”