The principal wished to help his dutiful daughter fulfill her filial piety—a greatness that required no further words!

Before Leon could start roasting Wilson, Roswitha tugged him out of the principal’s office.

The couple made their way to the academy’s gate, intending to begin their journey back to Silver Dragon Castle.

But just as they were about to leave, a familiar figure emerged from the sidelines.

It was Lahr’s father.

This bully, who likes to throw his weight around in familiar territory, seemed to have been lurking at the school gate for quite some time.

He blocked Leon and Roswitha’s path, his stance making it clear that he wanted a "second half" of their earlier conversation.

“Is there something else you need?” Roswitha’s tone rarely revealed impatience, but it was clear she found speaking with this man degrading.

That said, even though resentment simmered within her, Roswitha kept her expression icy and composed. Her natural air of authority was on full display.

In this aspect, Noa had inherited from her completely.

“Of course, I want to discuss matters regarding our children again.”

“The academy has already provided its resolution on the matter. Didn’t you just say in the office that you respect the academy’s decision? So I think there’s no need to discuss this further. Step aside, please; we’re heading home,” Roswitha replied with poise and dignity.

Lahr’s father cracked his neck, the joints emitting a sharp cracking sound, oozing the aura of a thug. “That was just politeness back in the office. I was giving face to the academy. Now that we’re outside, it’s time to settle this the way things should be handled between Dragon Clans.”

As he finished speaking, two other dragon parents—those of the toad dragons from before—stepped out from the shadows as well.

However, these two lacked the audacity of Lahr’s father. They didn’t even dare meet Leon’s eyes, shuffling their feet hesitantly as though pressured into tagging along as backup.

Roswitha repeated herself, her voice as cold as ever. “I’m warning you. Don’t provoke the Silver Dragon Clan. Move.”

“And what if I do? My Crimson Flame Dragon Clan has never shied away from such matters. Besides, your man here doesn’t even have the guts to reveal his tail—what lowly clan does he hail from, anyway? If we really got into a fight, it’d be a miracle if he lasted three rounds against me.”

His son may have lost a fight, but as a father, it was his responsibility to regain their pride.

This so-called Leon seemed to come from an insignificant Dragon Clan, too embarrassed even to show his tail.

How could he ever compare to the noble Crimson Flame Clan?

So what if it was painfully obvious that he was “picking a fight”? What of it?

Leon thought to himself that whether Lahr inherited this man’s title was one thing, but his shamelessness was clearly passed down, no doubt about it.

And to be clear, this guy was practically *begging* me to fight him. Everyone here is a witness, right?

Leon glanced at Roswitha as if seeking her approval.

With a sigh of resignation, she lowered her voice and said, “Just don’t kill him.”

Leon gave her an “OK” gesture before stepping forward.

The air grew tense. Eyes locked. Sparks flew.

Meanwhile, inside the academy, Noa was running toward the gate, clutching a box of cookies she had made in her culinary class.

Originally, she had planned to bring them home in two days when school let out for the holidays.

But since her parents were already here, why not bring them along now?

However, as she arrived at the entrance, she stumbled upon Leon seemingly squaring off against Lahr’s father, preparing to fight.

Her studious radar activated instantly—time for some covert learning!

Lahr’s father swung punches left and right, each strike forceful and slicing through the air.

Yet Leon dodged every single one with astonishing ease.

Noa was reminded of when Leon had sparred with her mom at the training ground not long ago. Back then, Leon treated Roswitha as a formidable opponent, attacking with all his might and caution.

Still, it had been clear that both were holding back slightly—after all, a sparring match between husband and wife wasn’t expected to escalate into a mortal duel.

Even though Leon eventually lost, Roswitha didn’t win effortlessly, either.

Now, watching her father face off against Lahr’s dad? It seemed as though he wasn’t even taking the fight seriously, playing with him like a child.

This man… Just how much strength was he hiding? Noa couldn’t help but wonder.

Lahr’s father was growing increasingly flustered after missing repeatedly. His attacks became erratic, wild, and uncoordinated.

Leon, through these exchanges, had already assessed Lahr’s father’s level.

The Crimson Flame Dragon Clan did have strong members, but as for this “mad dog” in front of him? He was a rung above toad dragons at best—not by much.

Back in his battlefield days, Leon wouldn’t have even spared a glance at someone of this caliber.

“What a bore, idiot,” Leon taunted, dodging effortlessly as he spoke. “I could crush you without using magic.”

“W-What—”

Before the sentence finished, Leon’s sweeping kick collided fiercely with Lahr’s father’s knee.

The knee—being a known weakness of the Crimson Flame Clan—buckled instantly. Decades of dragon-slaying had taught Leon that little insider tip, one he didn’t share freely.

Pain exploded through Lahr’s father, and he dropped into a kneeling position, clutching his leg in agony.

Leon took a few steps back, used the nearby stone steps for leverage, and spun mid-air. A flawless roundhouse kick knocked his opponent to the ground.

But Leon wasn’t done yet.

Hands casually tucked into his pants’ pockets, he began whistling a carefree tune as he walked over. Without skipping a beat, he stepped firmly onto Lahr’s father’s tail.

An anguished wail erupted—piercing, gut-wrenching.

Leon pulled his right hand out of his pocket, clenched it into a fist, aligning his stance perfectly. Channeling all his strength into his fist, he prepared to strike down on Lahr’s father’s face.

“N-No, stop! Please! Don’t—”

Boom—

As the resounding noise echoed, Lahr’s father trembled uncontrollably. At the last moment, he surrendered, protecting his head while curling up defensively.

He suddenly realized he had made a grave mistake.

This guy in front of him might look plain on the surface, but the killing intent that radiated when the fight began was unmistakable.

It was the aura of someone who had crawled out of piles of dragon carcasses…

What kind of person was this monster…?

But Leon’s fist didn’t land on his face.

When Lahr’s father cautiously lowered his hands, he saw a small crater in the concrete ground right in front of his eyes.

The solid pavement had been smashed with raw force alone.

If Leon hadn’t held back, Lahr might’ve been left fatherless.

“See? My fists, just like my words, are quite hard to ignore.”

Leon pulled his fist back, gave the man a light kick in the leg, and said, “Scram. Tell your son to stop messing with my daughter.”

Then Leon turned his attention to the two toad dragon parents standing off to the side.

In the past, Leon wouldn’t have even looked their way. “You two want a go as well?”

The two dragons shook their heads frantically.

“Then get out of here. Take him with you.”

Lahr’s father staggered to his feet, clutching his throbbing knee. With the help of the two toad dragons, he hobbled away in disgrace. As they left, however, the venomous glare in his eyes toward Leon remained.

Leon exhaled, turning back. “Alright, let’s hea—Noa? When did you get here?”

Leon suddenly noticed Noa peeking out from behind the academy gates.

From her expression and the way her tail swayed uncontrollably, it seemed she had witnessed everything. And… she looked excited?

Roswitha hadn’t noticed Noa’s presence either until Leon spoke up. Turning around, she called out, “Noa? Why aren’t you in class?”

Noa approached, still holding the box of cookies. “I wanted to give you these.”

As she spoke, she handed over the cookie box.

Roswitha accepted it with both hands, her eyes brightening as she asked, “You made these?”

“Mm-hmm. Our teacher taught us in culinary class.”

After a moment’s pause, Noa added, “They might not taste very good, though. Don’t mind it too much.”

Roswitha didn’t bother assuring her daughter with the typical “Of course not—they’ll be the best!” Instead, she confidently took out a cookie, broke it in half, handed one piece to Leon, and tried the other.

“These are really good,” Roswitha said.

Leon chomped down his share in two bites, genuinely praising her. “Yeah, they’re delicious.”

Noa’s anxious expression relaxed for the first time. “I got second place in class.”

Roswitha reached out, patting Noa gently on the head. “Cooking is a piece of cake. Next time, we’ll get first place for sure.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Noa nodded but then turned her gaze to Leon. She pursed her lips, looking hesitant as if she wanted to speak but wasn’t sure.

After some thought, she finally gathered her courage.

“You were… really cool just now.”

In that moment, Leon felt he truly understood the meaning of fatherhood.

When you love your daughter deeply and expect nothing in return, even the simplest of compliments can feel like the greatest reward.

This was doubly true for Leon, as Noa, with her usual reserved demeanor, rarely expressed her feelings so directly. That Noa would boldly compliment him like this meant more to him than any gift ever could.

This had nothing to do with manipulation or bizarre notions like PUA.

It was simply the normal emotional response of a father overwhelmed by his daughter’s heartfelt affirmation.

If Leon had a tail, it’d be wagging wildly by now!

More than “My daughter is growing up and knows how to compliment people now,” Leon felt, “Our relationship is finally thawing.”

He didn’t care whether Noa had become more mature. He’d never set strict expectations for her personal growth.

All he wanted was to be closer to his daughter—to make their bond truly live up to the title of “father and daughter.”

Seeing Leon dazed by Noa’s simple “really cool,” Roswitha elbowed him in the side.

Snapping out of his trance, Leon scratched the back of his head and chuckled awkwardly. “Aha, well, of course! Your dad is super strong, didn’t I tell you? Also, remember what I said—knees are a critical weak spot for those Crimson Flame dragons. If Lahr ever bothers you again, give his knee a good kick.”

Noa couldn’t help but giggle softly, though she quickly masked her smile, much like her mother, as if granting smiles required additional charges.

“Alright, I get it. Then—wait, your hand... is it hurt?”

When Leon raised his hand to scratch his head, he inadvertently exposed the knuckles on the back of his hand.

It was the injury he had sustained when he had punched the ground earlier.

Upon hearing this, Leon quickly lowered his hand and tucked it behind his back. “It’s nothing. It’s normal to get a few scrapes in a fight.”

“But it’s—”

“Isn’t the next class about to start? Go back to class. The day after tomorrow when you come home, Mom and Dad will cook something delicious for you,” Leon said.

Noa’s pupils trembled slightly, and she pressed her lips together. “Alright... see you.”

“See you the day after tomorrow.”

Noa waved and jogged back toward the academy.

Roswitha handed a box of cookies to Leon, then transformed into her dragon form. “Let’s head back too.”

“Yeah.”

---

That evening, Leon sat in the nursery reading through a book on baby dragons, getting ready to share it with Muen the next day.

After a while, the door lock clicked.

He put down the book and glanced toward the door.

Before he could make out who it was, the familiar sound of high heels reached his ears.

Leon didn’t greet the visitor and picked up his book again, continuing to read.

Roswitha sat down beside him, quietly waiting without saying a word.

After a few minutes, Leon finally laid the book aside. “What is it?”

“Your hand.”

“Huh?”

Roswitha didn’t elaborate. She simply lifted Leon’s right hand and placed it on her knee.

Then she took out the wound ointment she had brought, dipped a cotton swab into it, and started carefully applying the substance to Leon’s injuries, little by little.

The ointment stung as it entered the wound, and Leon instinctively flinched.

“Does it hurt a lot?” Roswitha asked.

Leon, unwilling to admit it, replied, “N-no, it doesn’t hurt.”

Roswitha chuckled lightly and continued treating his wound, this time with much gentler movements. “Well, it doesn’t hurt me.”

The evening breeze swept in from the window, cool and refreshing.

Roswitha took her time, methodically and meticulously applying the ointment.

Though the ointment itself was cold, her hands were warm and soft.

As a seasoned Dragon Slayer who had fought countless battles, Leon’s hands bore more scars than he could count.

In the past, he would patch himself up haphazardly and move on.

But having someone like Roswitha tend to his injuries with such care—this was a first.

People tend to vividly remember their first experiences, feeling every detail with heightened sensitivity.

Roswitha’s hands were incredibly soft and warm, but her fingertips were slightly cool. When they brushed against the back of Leon’s hand, the sensation was delicate—tingling, almost ticklish.

Leon awkwardly cleared his throat and turned his head away, attempting to divert his attention from the simple physical contact.

Though it hurt a little, Leon refrained from pulling his hand back. After all, his hand was resting on her knee; any sudden movement might come across as inappropriate.

“There’s really… no need to apply any ointment. It’ll heal in a couple of days,” Leon said.

“Muen wanted to apply the ointment for you,” Roswitha said, her head lowered.

“Oh.”

“I was worried she wouldn’t know how to do it properly, so I decided to come myself.”

“Oh.”

“What’s with the ‘oh’? I’m telling the truth.”

Leon shrugged. “Yeah, sure. I never said it wasn’t true. Why are you so nervous?”

“I’m not nervous.”

“Right, you’re not nervous. I am. Fine? Ow, damn it—stop, that hurts!”

Roswitha shot him an exasperated look. “Hold still.”

“Fine.”

She continued applying the ointment.

After a long pause, she finally spoke again. “Thank you for today.”

“Thank me? For what?”

“When we were in the office earlier, Lar’s father was being incredibly aggressive. You stepped up to defend me and Noa.”

Roswitha finished dressing Leon’s wound and tossed the used cotton swab into the trash can. “I thought you’d be delighted to see me getting verbally trounced.”

Leon flexed his hand, still feeling the residual warmth from where it had rested on her knee. “Of course, I would’ve loved to see someone put you in your place. I’d have been thrilled if you were left speechless.”

Roswitha tilted her head, smiling as she asked, “Then why did you step up for me?”

“Hey, calling it 'stepping up' is a bit much, isn’t it? Sure, we usually avoid each other like the plague, but in front of others, you’re still my—”

Roswitha raised an eyebrow, her interest piqued. “Your what?”

Leon averted his gaze, his voice softening as he mumbled, “My wife… If someone’s got the audacity to point their finger and yell at my wife, how could I just sit back and do nothing? That’d make me a coward. Besides, I wasn’t just defending you; it was mainly for Noa. Yep, all for Noa.”

Yeah, keep playing it tough—you two are a perfect match for that.

Roswitha let out a small laugh, brushing her hair back over her ear.

It was then that Leon noticed the tiny braid he had woven into her hair back when she was unconscious. She had kept it all this time.

Seeing this, Leon felt secretly pleased with himself.

Hah, my taste is clearly on point!

“My sister wrote to me earlier,” Roswitha said.

“Is she coming over to visit again?”

Roswitha shook her head. “She invited us to bring the girls to stay at her place for a visit. Are you coming?”

“I’m not going,” Leon replied.

“Oh, is that so? Fine, then let’s settle the matter between us first.”

“I’ll go.” Leon caved almost instantly.

“Good, then once Noa’s school break begins in two days, we’ll head out.”

---