The final challenge of the three-legged race brought the contestants to an open-air kitchen.

Dozens of simple kitchen stations were neatly arranged on the open ground ahead.

Leon and Roswitha were, as always, the first to reach this final challenge.

"Welcome to the final challenge! This stage is called 'Cooking with Love'!"

"A proper homemade dish shouldn't just use the finest ingredients or showcase skilled craftsmanship—it must also overflow with heartfelt love for family."

"Only dishes made with genuine love can truly be called food!"

"The rules for this challenge are simple: each family will draw lots to determine what dish they need to cook. They will then have one hour to complete it. At the end, the dishes will be judged by Vice Principal Wilson, the person in charge of Silka Noodles, and other renowned food critics."

"Alright then! To the first family to arrive at this stage, the Melkevi family, please begin preparing your love-filled dish!"

"Oh, and remember, during the cooking process, you are not allowed to untie the strap on your ankles. Let the bond of love flow through that strap to connect you both!"

At this point, the couple rolled their eyes in unison.

It was just a competition—did they really need to overdo it with all this cheesy nonsense?

Even real families probably would find this insufferable, let alone fake ones like them.

But their skepticism was soon crushed by the overly enthusiastic display of affection from the family that had just caught up.

"My darling husband, I will pour all my love into creating the most delicious homemade dish with you!"

"And dearest wife, I will return your love with all that I have! Let's begin right away!"

Leon and Roswitha were rendered speechless by the saccharine sight before them.

If you're this good at showing off, don't be surprised if the dish you draw is dog food.

Snapping out of the moment first, Roswitha elbowed Leon in the arm. "Come on, let's go draw our lot."

"Alright."

The two of them approached the drawing box. Exchanging a glance, Leon confidently volunteered, "I have good luck. I’ll do it!"

When it came to drawing lots, there was definitely some finesse involved.

If they pulled a dish that was simple to make and tasted great no matter what, their final ranking could be significantly improved.

On the other hand, if they got a complex dish where even a small mistake in the ingredients could ruin the flavor, they’d be in for a world of trouble.

Leon reached into the drawing box, rummaging around noisily.

Finally, he made his decision, gripping one slip of paper.

Pulling it out, Roswitha moved closer to peer at it as Leon slowly unfolded it.

"Cream—"

The first word revealed was "Cream."

Both of them immediately let out a sigh of relief.

Good draw!

Why was it a good draw?

Because a simple cream-based dish could easily overshadow the more complicated ones from other families, smoothing Leon and Roswitha's path to victory.

Cream-based dishes were culinary powerhouses, perfectly enhancing anything they were applied to. For the judges, the spectators, and especially for Leon and Roswitha, this slip of paper was undeniably a stroke of good fortune.

Just from that word "cream," without even seeing the rest, Leon already felt like laughing.

"Cream... puff."

"Cream Puff?!"

Their celebrations came far too soon.

That grin of satisfaction was wiped clean off their faces, replaced by a chilling flashback to an unforgettable night one month ago.

Oh, that night with the Black Dragon Bolus was truly one for the history books.

Leon, who’d been thrown into madness by the Black Dragon Bolus, paired with Roswitha's hesitant submission, had resulted in—

Cream Puff (Giant Dragon Edition).

The next morning, Roswitha had even specifically used a cream puff to "remind" Leon of his antics during the previous night.

But never in their wildest dreams did they expect cream puffs to come back and haunt them like this!

Mortified!

Both of them blushed deeply as they met each other's knowing eyes, their emotions an unspoken tangle of embarrassment and guilt.

"So this is the 'good luck' you were talking about?" Roswitha teased.

Leon flushed. "How is this fair? It's too targeted!"

Too targeted, indeed—it was dredging up things that shouldn’t even be remembered!

Roswitha tried to suppress her own embarrassment. "But... do you even know how to make cream puffs?"

"Do I know how? Haven’t you already figured that out by now?" Leon shot back bluntly.

"You! ..."

"And didn't you already make them once before?"

Roswitha's scalp tingled. "It was Anna who made them! I don’t even know where to start with pastries like these!"

Leon buried his face in his hands, his fingers digging into his hair. "Who put cream puffs in the drawing box? I’ll go hunt them down—maybe we can redraw!"

"We could, but then we'd have no chance of winning."

While the two of them fretted, a staff member approached. "What did you draw? Oh, cream puffs—what a lucky draw!"

Leon forced a stiff smile. "Thank you so much."

"Are you two not very skilled with desserts?"

They nodded in unison.

"Oh, no problem at all! To prevent such situations, we've prepared detailed step-by-step instructions for each dish."

With that, the staff member fished out a laminated sheet from their backpack with instructions for making cream puffs.

From the first step to the last, everything was laid out in clear detail.

"This is a family event, so it’s all about having fun. Best of luck to you two!"

Tied at the ankles and unable to move easily, they helped put aprons on each other, being careful not to meet each other’s eyes.

But somehow, the simple act of putting on aprons conjured inappropriate memories of removing clothing.

Once they were ready, Roswitha rolled up her sleeves, refocused, and carefully read the instructions.

Step one: milk...

Just seeing the word "milk" almost made Roswitha lose it.

"Pour the milk into a small saucepan... Milk… milk… Oh, right there. Hand me the milk."

Leon obediently handed it over, keeping quiet and avoiding her gaze.

Step two: butter...

Butter what?

...

...

Step three: fill...

Fill what?

Why was it that each word seemed so innocent by itself, but linked together with their memories, they all became unsuitable for polite company?

The more Roswitha thought about it, the brighter her blush grew. But the more she blushed, the harder it was to stop her thoughts from wandering.

That night had left far too vivid an impression.

Finally, Leon broke the silence. "Why are you blushing? It’s just cream puffs!"

Leon knew perfectly well why Roswitha was blushing.

But before she could mock him, he decided to strike first.

"Who’s blushing? I’m just... hot! On the other hand, you’re acting awkward—what were you thinking about, huh?"

"How could something like that be called improper?" Leon countered.

Roswitha seized her chance. "Oh, look at that—you’re admitting it without me even needing to say what it was!"

"Why, you—!"

"Alright, enough." Roswitha slapped the recipe sheet against Leon’s chest. "Get to work. You sift the flour, I’ll crack the eggs. Move it!"

"Okay, okay."

Meanwhile, they could hear the host delivering an enthusiastic commentary from another part of the competition area.

"Oooh~~ It looks like our Balloon Battle Royale has reached its climax! There are only four little dragons left in the arena!"

"Two are from the Razorclaw Dragon Clan, one from the Frost Dragon Clan, and for some reason, the three of them seem to have made a pact to gang up on the remaining Silver Dragon Clan hatchling."

"I remember her—her name is Noa. She’s the youngest student in the hatchling division this year, but consistently ranks at the top of her class in all subjects."

"So, can little Noa fight her way out of this three-on-one siege?"

"Let’s wait and see!"

Upon hearing this, Leon and Roswitha simultaneously looked over toward the Balloon Royale game area.

Sure enough, as the host had said, three hatchlings about seven or eight years old were ganging up on Noa.

"It looks like her one-against-three feat has spread among the hatchling division, so now they’ve teamed up to take her down first," Leon commented.

"Is Noa going to be alright?" Roswitha asked, her voice tinged with worry.

"She’ll be fine. I have faith in our daughter."

Roswitha blinked, startled, as she mulled over Leon’s words. "Our... daughter..."

Before the queen could fully process the remark, Leon suddenly shouted, "Yes! Beautiful backflip! Go, sweetie, blow them up for Daddy!"

But just as the words escaped his mouth, a cloud of flour flew directly into Roswitha’s face.

Leon had gotten so fired up that he accidentally swung his fist, sending the flour stuck to his hand flying outward.

Seeing what had happened, Leon quickly stepped forward to help brush her off.

"Sorry, sorry—our daughter was too cool, I lost control!"

He used his sleeve to wipe away the flour on Roswitha’s face.

Unluckily, this scene was caught by the competition host.

"Noa’s holding her ground against three opponents, and her parents, while fiercely competing in the cooking challenge, still find time to care for one another! Oh, what an affectionate couple, pouring their love into even the smallest moments!"

Leon froze mid-motion, utterly stiff as he wiped Roswitha’s face.

What had been a simple, instinctive gesture between them suddenly felt magnified and absurd thanks to the host’s overly enthusiastic narration.

Neither of them could bring themselves to move, knowing they were being scrutinized as a "loving couple."

"At least the audience is far away—they can't get a clear look," Leon muttered, trying to comfort himself.

But alas—

"For those too far to see clearly, let’s activate the Giant Recording Stone, projecting real-time competition footage above the arena!"

In the blink of an eye, the Recording Stones flared to life, projecting Leon wiping Roswitha’s face onto massive displays high in the air for everyone to see.

Everyone present could see it clearly.

Principal Wilson of the VIP observation deck leaned back on the sofa, stroking his beard with satisfaction. "Truly, the exemplary couple I selected—it's as if the words 'deeply in love' were written across their faces."

The person in charge of noodles and a renowned gourmet sitting beside him nodded in agreement.

The entire audience was moved by the warm, familial affection on display.

However, the two people at the center of it all seemed to think otherwise.

"Which dragon do I need to slay to wrap this sports day up early?" Leon gritted his teeth.

"My suggestion? Just wipe out all the witnesses," Roswitha replied.

After that small moment of sheer embarrassment, the couple shifted their focus back to the task at hand: making cream puffs.

"Step four: shape the puffs into your desired form."

Roswitha frowned as she read the instructions. "Shape them into our desired form… but the molds the school provided are…"

Just as her gaze fell on the only mold available, Leon had already picked it up and was examining its length and thickness in his hand.

Roswitha silently facepalmed.

Perfect. This couldn't look more inappropriate.

"Never mind! It's the mold's fault! None of this has anything to do with me! I don't even like this shape!" she reassured herself internally as she busied herself molding the cream puffs.

By the time the cream puffs were nearly finished, Leon noticed good news coming from Noa's side.

"Let's give a round of applause to Noa K. Melkevi for achieving a final victory in protecting the balloon—single-handedly against three opponents!"

A small figure stood at the center of the field, so exhausted she could barely keep herself upright, panting heavily.

Yet she still raised her right hand high and gave a thumbs-up toward Leon and Roswitha.

"Big sister's amazing! Did you see that? That's Muen's sister! She's the best!" the cheer squad in the stands shouted enthusiastically, never forgetting their duties.

Now that their daughter had achieved such spectacular results, how could the parents possibly fall behind?

Leon and Roswitha gathered all their energy for the last step of making the cream puffs:

"Step five: cut an opening on the side of the puff, and then fill it with… cream…"

Roswitha swallowed hard. "Fill it with… cream…"

That verb triggered certain unspeakably mortifying memories for her.

Leon could only recall vague fragments from back then, thanks to the Black Dragon Bolus. But Roswitha? She remembered every single detail vividly.

"Fill it to the brim" wasn't an exaggeration in the slightest.

"What's wrong? Afraid the cream might spill out? No worries, I’ll handle filling it; you just hold the puff open," Leon urged.

"Uh… uh?"

"What's with the 'uh'? The group next to us is almost done—we need to hurry. Here, take this," Leon said as he handed Roswitha a puff with its side already cut.

Roswitha bowed her head and gently pried open the slit in the puff with her fingers.

Something felt very off.

Extremely, inexplicably off.

This action… it reminded her far too much of that night…

"Hold it steady. I’m going to start squeezing in the cream," Leon reminded her.

"…Okay."

Squelch.

"Hey, slow down! It's spilling everywhere!" Roswitha exclaimed in a panic.

"Ah, sorry, sorry. Used a bit too much force."

In the end, with their combined efforts, three cream puffs were successfully completed.

The couple crouched down, shoulders touching, admiring the delicious treats they had crafted together.

"In the end, it's our minds that are dirty—not the cream puffs themselves," Leon said with surprisingly sober self-awareness.

"Drop the 'our.' It's only your mind that's dirty. Thanks," Roswitha retorted.

"Tsk. How can you say that? You were the one who used cream puffs as a metaphor back then. I was so innocent at the time."

Roswitha shot him a sideways glance, then stood up, picking up the tray. "Hurry up. Time to submit this."

Indeed, it was submission time—though Leon thought "tribute" felt like the more appropriate term. Still, he couldn't help but wonder: would the cream puffs, infused with their "embarrassing memories," actually earn a high score?

He wasn’t sure if they were filled with love.

But hatred? Oh, there was plenty of that.

Vice Principal Wilson and the other two judges had already arrived at the judging table.

Before heading up, the staff untied the ropes binding Leon and Roswitha’s ankles.

Ahhh~

The sweet breath of freedom!

The two, carrying the tray, ascended the judging platform.

Each of the three judges took a cream puff and began tasting it meticulously.

First came the evaluation from the head of Silka Noodles for Young Dragons: "Hmm, not bad, but it would be even better with some pork floss sprinkled on top. I’ll give it a seven."

Next was the renowned food critic: "The puff pastry is crisp and delightful, and the cream is smooth and rich. While it lacks the shy elegance of a subtle nod to a gentle breeze, it carries a unique flavor of happiness. I’ll give it a nine."

Leon leaned toward Roswitha and whispered, "If spouting random nonsense is all it takes to become a food critic, then I can do it too."

Roswitha stifled her laughter and made a gesture for him to hush.

Finally, it was Vice Principal Wilson's turn. "These cream puffs have a full, pleasing appearance and emit a delightful, creamy fragrance. I imagine the two of you must often make these at home, don’t you?"

Behind the scenes, the couple poked and jabbed at each other, trying to push the other to answer this mortifying question.

Ultimately, Roswitha muttered through gritted teeth, "Seven days of vacation."

Leon sighed and reluctantly volunteered, "Yes, Principal. My wife and I often make cream puffs at home. We both enjoy cream puffs a lot and take great pleasure in the process of making them."

Even as he spoke, he repeated in his mind like a mantra:

Cream puffs are innocent. The filth lies in the human heart! As long as my heart isn't filthy, I’m just talking about cream puffs!

Yep. Just cream puffs.

"Ha-ha! Seems like the two of you lead a vibrant and passionate life together. Now, would you say this batch of cream puffs is filled with your special feelings?" the Vice Principal asked.

Both Leon and Roswitha understood exactly what Wilson wanted to hear.

It was no different from a job interview—artfully blurting out lies.

The two exchanged a glance, and with remarkable synchronization, they clasped each other's hands (Wait, why does this seem to be getting easier?).

"Yes, Vice Principal. Cream puffs may be simple, but we poured intensive, special love into every one of them," Roswitha answered with a straight face.

Leon glanced at the cream-topped puffs and nodded solemnly. "Yeah… really rich. Really rich."

"What a satisfactory response. Ten points! I’ll give a perfect ten! Congratulations to both of you!"

As expected of the model family he had handpicked. Their love was so potent that it could elevate something as ordinary as food into a dish brimming with emotion. Few families could boast of such a feat!

After the scoring ended, Noa joined her parents as they eagerly awaited the final rankings.

Roughly half an hour later, Vice Principal Wilson held up a list and began announcing the results slowly.

"And now, the rankings for the first Saint Hiss Academy Family Sports Day are finalized. I will now announce the top three."

"Third place goes to the Alex family of the Claw Dragon Clan, who will receive a fifty-year discount coupon for Silka Noodles for Young Dragons!"

"In second place is the Ross family of the Wind Dragon Clan. Their prize is a Grade-B rarity magic tome."

"And in first place…~~~"

The Vice Principal deliberately dragged out the final word, teasing the anticipation of the crowd.

Leon instinctively clenched his fists, and Noa hugged her mother’s arm tightly.

“But before we reveal the winner, why not first enjoy a short advertisement for Silka Noodles?”

“Boo~~~”

The audience erupted into jeers.

Wilson chuckled, raising his hands to calm them. "Relax, relax. Just a little joke. Now, for the first-place winners, they are—"

"—from the Silver Dragon Clan: the Melkevi family! Let’s give them a big round of applause!"

The entire audience of thousands rose to their feet, showering them with applause.

Noa and Roswitha both visibly relaxed with relieved smiles.

"And for first place, your prize is… a seven-day deluxe spa vacation!"

Hearing this, Leon’s smile froze.

XXX

Saint Hiss Academy: You want time off? We say no!

Leon: Damn it! Kill, kill, kill!