"Leon's childhood…?"

A glimmer of confusion and surprise flickered across Tiger's usually meticulous face.

He had anticipated Roswitha might bring up some conditions or demands, but this so-called "price"... what was it for?

What kind of life was that brat living over there?

Roswitha said no more, patiently awaiting the impending feast.

Tiger released his grip on the hilt of his blade. “Your request is… quite peculiar.”

Roswitha chuckled. “And yours isn’t?”

Indeed, the things they were about to exchange were anything but ordinary.

A master hoping his disciple would face death once more out there, while an enemy sought to learn about the captive's childhood.

But at this point, there was no need to dwell on "why." Just go for a direct exchange.

Tiger sighed, scratching the white hair at his temples. “Alright, wait here.”

With that, Tiger turned, walked to the bedside, and bent down to retrieve a large wooden box from underneath the bed. From the box, he pulled out some papers and drawings, dumping them unceremoniously onto the table.

Roswitha raised her eyebrows slightly in surprise.

Wow, had he seriously kept all this history of embarrassing moments?

Leon would probably never have dreamed of this. It was bad enough getting backstabbed by former comrades on the battlefield, but now even his master was “backstabbing” him behind closed doors.

Tragic.

The poor Leon was either busy getting betrayed or on his way to being betrayed again.

“These are all the love letters Leon received from the time he enrolled until the time he graduated. I saved every one of them for him.”

Tiger announced this matter-of-factly. “These were originally meant to be shown to his future wife. But since his life is currently in your hands, now it’s up to you.”

As he spoke, Tiger pushed a stack of letters toward Roswitha.

How gratifying—so you’ve had your share of this sort of thing too, huh?

Looking at the heap of love letters in front of her, Roswitha couldn’t help but recall the delight she’d felt when Leon had witnessed Isa unveiling her own hoard of similarly embarrassing love letters from her past.

Flipping through the letters, Roswitha found the contents achingly saccharine and couldn’t help but laugh as she read.

“And this,” Tiger said, holding up a white envelope, “is a particularly special one.”

“Oh? How so?” Roswitha looked up.

“For all the other girls, he’d reject them within a single second, not even bothering to give them a reason. But for the girl who sent this letter, he actually hesitated for five whole seconds before saying no.”

Tiger continued, “Do you have any idea how significant five seconds is to him? His exact words were, ‘Why would I waste five seconds rejecting someone when I could use that time to memorize another alchemical formula, do a few more push-ups, or crank out some extra pull-ups?’ So, this girl was very… special.”

“Was she extraordinarily beautiful?”

“Beautiful, yes. Silver hair, tall, fond of wearing high heels and dresses, with an overall icy impression to her.”

Roswitha narrowed her eyes in suspicion, finding it hard not to suspect that Tiger was describing her, her appearance in particular.

Until, of course, he dug out an utterly ridiculous portrait sketch from the pile of drawings—a sketch that could, at a stretch, be called a portrait. After all, one could barely discern the eyes, nose, ears, and mouth.

“This was Leon’s depiction of his dream girl at the age of six. Her features coincidentally align quite well with the girl he hesitated five seconds to turn down ten years later.”

Pausing, Tiger suddenly leaned back slightly, his eyes roaming up and down Roswitha as if realization had just struck him.

But he seemed too embarrassed to voice it aloud.

Ah, this… feels like the so-called “far away but suddenly nearby” situation. Could it be that…?

No matter how bold his student might be, surely not to *that* extent… right?

Roswitha stared at the abstract-style portrait, committing it silently to memory.

Though she was inwardly bursting with laughter, she managed to maintain a straight face.

“This alone isn’t enough,” Roswitha said flatly. “Anything else? Like… foods he absolutely hates, places he hates being touched, or habits he deeply resents.”

It wasn’t every day you met the captive’s family, so she had to make the most of this opportunity and gather as much dirt as possible. Otherwise, how could she keep the captive in check in the future?

After thinking it over, Tiger replied, “Hated foods… carrots and eggplant, I’d say. He can barely tolerate carrots, but eggplant? Eating it would practically cause him to faint on the spot.”

“F-faint… isn’t that a bit exaggerated?”

“Maybe, but ever since Leon enlisted, the Empire Dragon Slayer Army has removed eggplant from their instant ration packs. What does that tell you?”

Ha, turns out every bizarre rule hides an even more bizarre origin.

“Got it.” Roswitha nodded.

Tiger crossed his arms, carefully sifting through his memories of his apprentice's embarrassing moments. For some reason, despite technically negotiating with a Dragon Clan member, he found himself enjoying this.

After all, as Leon grew older, chances to mess with him became increasingly rare.

The cave suddenly became steeped in an air of mirth, its previously tense and confrontational atmosphere quietly dissipating.

“As for places he hates being touched… probably his waist. He’s especially sensitive there,” Tiger recalled. “As for ingrained habits or pet peeves… nothing comes to mind immediately, but I can share something *similar*.”

“That works.”

“At 2:30 in the morning, if he’s in a light sleep phase, you can ask him *any* question. Whatever he answers will always, without fail, be his genuine, unconcealed thoughts.”

Tiger paused before adding, “He might even sleepwalk sometimes and execute commands you give him in that state. Not that it’s a sure thing—it requires a bit of luck. But in the past, I used this trick to get him to complete a fair amount of farm work.”

Hiss—

Afraid of eggplants, terrified of having his waist touched, and prone to truthful confessions and sleepwalking antics during early-morning hours.

Why did it seem like this fearless ultimate Dragon Slayer was riddled with peculiar vulnerabilities?

No wonder his past enemies could never manage to defeat him.

“Alright, I’ll remember all of this.”

Though Roswitha felt it was still somewhat insufficient.

After a brief moment of thought, she retrieved a photo from her waist pouch and waved it in her hand.

“This is a recent photo of Leon. I’ll pay extra—give me more.”

Tiger raised an eyebrow but smirked. “You really did your homework.”

“Empty-handed isn’t my style.”

Tiger glanced once more at the photo. “That’s really a recent photo of Leon?”

“You’re intrigued now. Give me what I want,” Roswitha said. “If you don’t, you won’t get to see this picture of your precious apprentice.”

Tiger scratched his head, looking slightly troubled.

It wasn’t that he didn’t have any more dirt on Leon—far from it.

The problem was that the next piece was exceptionally explosive.

After wrestling with his thoughts, Tiger sighed.

Ah, whatever. For the sake of letting this rascal freeload comfortably for at least another year… I’ll take the hit (on Leon’s behalf)!

“Wait here.”

Turning on his heel, Tiger ventured deeper into the cave.

Tap, tap—

Soon, strange footsteps echoed from within.

Roswitha followed the sound with her eyes.

Black, long ears, four legs, a tail.

Roswitha sucked in a sharp breath.

She had been mildly curious when Sherry mentioned earlier that, upon departing from the Empire, Leon’s master had sold everything except for a donkey.

Yet chatting with Tiger for so long, she hadn’t once seen any sign of this mysterious donkey.

So this was it—saving the ace for the finale.

Seeing was believing.

For standing before her now was the very donkey that had loomed large in Leon’s youth like a childhood companion. It was brought forward by Tiger, who now stood right in front of her.

"From childhood to adulthood, Leon has tamed countless poultry and dangerous beasts. But one thing he’s never been able to tame—this donkey from our family. And—"

“And?”

“If you touch its nose carefully, you’ll feel slight indentations. That’s from when Leon got kicked for the first time as a child while trying to nail horseshoes onto it.”

The nailing incident… had really happened?!

So it wasn’t just something Leon made up to tease her!

“After that, Leon embarked on a lifelong quest to tame the donkey but never succeeded.”

Tiger continued, “He considers not having tamed this donkey a stain on his otherwise illustrious life. That’s why he’s never told anyone about it. This is, without a doubt, the most explosive piece of dirt I have on him.”

Roswitha inhaled deeply, absorbing and processing this tale of grudges and failed taming efforts between Leon and a donkey.

“Alright then, this is more than enough. You’ve earned the photo.”

Roswitha placed the photo on the table but didn’t immediately lift her hand away. “One more thing—I need some sort of personal token from you. Something proving you’re still alive will do.”

“Already prepared.”

Tiger opened a drawer, retrieved a letter, and handed it to her. “Give this to him—he’ll understand.”

Roswitha pocketed the letter. “Got it.”

With their bargaining and exchange complete, Roswitha turned and headed for the cave's exit.

Half-turning back, she spoke coldly, “This may be the first and last time we ever meet. When it comes to Leon, I don’t just want one year.”

With that, she spread her dragon wings, scattering the waterfall blocking the entrance as she slowly ascended into the skies.

Tiger exhaled slightly, then picked up the photo resting on the table.

His eyes widened instantly.

Beaten and captured for two years, and the brat had fathered twins with the Silver Dragon Queen?!

What kind of prisoner-of-war situation was this?

Wasn’t this a bit too outrageous?

He was too old for this kind of shock!

“That rascal,” Tiger muttered, “I used to think I’d be the most absurd Dragon Slayer. But even in *this* regard, you’ve outdone me, haven’t you?”

“Is Leon… doing okay?”

A woman’s voice came from behind. She had been there all along, yet hadn’t made her presence known.

Tiger turned, handing her the photo. “I don’t think a single word like ‘okay’ can fully encapsulate his current situation.”

The woman’s pupils trembled as she gazed at the photo.

Slightly overwhelmed at first, she soon calmed herself. “So, you’ve made up your mind as well?”

After a moment of silence, the once-renowned Dragon Slayer replied in a low voice, “There’s no reason to hesitate anymore.”

Tiger Lawrence picked up the katana on the table, his gaze firmly fixed on the distance.

"This can serve as a gift for meeting my granddaughters."