The highly anticipated Leon Casmod ultimately fell at the hands of a carrot. After breakfast, that taste lingered in his mouth and nose, refusing to dissipate.

In the afternoon, while playing with him, Muen asked curiously, “Dad, how come you look unhealthy after eating a carrot?”

“Sweetheart, just because you don’t like purple cabbage doesn’t mean you can’t eat it.

But if your dad doesn’t like carrots, it really means he can’t eat them at all!

You have no idea what your dad used to do.”

“Your dad used to be the crown jewel of the Empire Dragon Slayer Army.

The army’s kitchen staff even knew I didn’t like carrots or eggplants, so they completely removed those from all the nutritious meals after I joined.

See? That’s the level of privilege afforded to a top-tier Dragon Slayer.

It’s like a top student being able to freely pick their seat in the class.”

But speaking of which, out of all the ingredients, Leon only feared those two foods. And, of course, this morning Roswitha happened to catch him off guard.

Was it really just a coincidence?

Or… something else?

He couldn’t figure it out for the time being.

But there was no time to mourn his carrot-related defeat. Up next was Leon Casmod’s act of revenge!

As a Dragon Slayer, he absolutely couldn’t let that dragoness have an easy time!

Over time, he had discovered something about Roswitha—aside from what happened in the bedroom, this woman had almost no weaknesses in daily life.

She loved bathing and hygiene but wasn’t overly obsessive about cleanliness.

She cooked well and flawlessly—no room for complaints.

She tackled house chores effortlessly, from sweeping to mopping.

Trying to find a weakness that might render her incapable of eating for a day was like looking for a needle in a haystack.

“Unable to eat… unable to eat… Ah, got it!”

He remembered that while casually probing Anna yesterday about where Roswitha had gone, Anna had offhandedly mentioned, “Her Majesty doesn’t like cilantro.”

Oh-ho!

That proverbial needle in the haystack turned out to be within his grasp!

---

At dinner, Leon volunteered to cook personally.

Following the philosophy of “If you do something, do it thoroughly,” Leon prepared every dish with cilantro-infused seasoning.

No matter how cunning this dragoness was, she would never escape his cilantro gauntlet.

When everything was ready, Leon brought the dishes to the table.

The moment the first dish, braised chicken wings, landed on the table, the smile on Roswitha’s face froze instantly.

The dish gave off an enticing aroma, but the little flecks of green on the chicken wings were impossible to ignore.

Roswitha took a deep breath.

Alright, it’s just braised chicken wings. Worst case, she wouldn’t eat it. Wasn’t there other stuff on the table?

Next came the second dish—grilled fish, cilantro-style.

The icy expression on Roswitha’s face began to falter.

Had Leon ever added this much cilantro before when cooking?

Watching her reaction, Leon stifled his laughter as he continued bringing out dish after dish.

And every single dish… featured cilantro.

Roswitha was trapped with no escape!

This was nothing short of a cilantro-induced nightmare for her.

“Come, Muen. Eat your steak with some vegetables,” Leon encouraged.

“Got it, Dad~”

“Here’s your grilled fish, and a little bit of everything else. Take what you like.”

Once all the dishes were served, Leon sat down. He didn’t start eating right away but instead leisurely observed Roswitha’s expression.

Roswitha bit her lip, staring at the cilantro-speckled grilled fish on her plate for a long time before finally squeezing out a single sentence:

“I… I’m not very hungry. You guys go ahead and eat.”

Just as she was about to stand up, Leon suddenly reached over and pressed down on her wrist.

“You were out all day yesterday, traveling far and tiring yourself out. How can you skip dinner? At least eat a little, so I don’t have to worry,” Leon said tenderly, sincerely.

“…”

What fake concern, Casmod!

But even that wasn’t as disgusting as the cilantro.

“That’s right, Mommy. Balanced nutrition is important, and so are regular meals~”

Sweetheart, whose side are you on?

Having been cornered into eating a cilantro-laden dinner by Leon, Roswitha couldn’t tell whether or not he’d done it on purpose. But not wanting to set a bad example for her daughter by refusing to eat, she reluctantly sat back down.

Taking her knife and fork in hand, she stared at the grilled fish sprinkled with cilantro. With a trembling voice, she managed,

“Alright… Mommy’s eating.”

“Mhm~”

Enduring the overpowering taste of cilantro, Roswitha took small, cautious bites of the fish.

Who says true empathy doesn’t exist in this world?

She now fully understood how Leon had felt at breakfast.

Of course, that pain had been her doing in the first place.

Wait—

As she chewed the fish, her gaze swept across the dishes on the table.

Every dish had cilantro…

It was hard not to suspect that Leon had done this on purpose.

So this was all for the metaphorical "vinegar" he decided to spill? How petty!

But how had Leon figured out she didn’t like cilantro?

Her thoughts churned as she endured the intense cilantro flavor.

For Leon, however, this dinner was the most satisfying meal he’d had in ages.

Yes, cilantro truly was the most perfect ingredient in the world!

---

After dinner, Muen went to her room to rest, leaving the couple alone in the kitchen to wash the dishes.

“How was dinner?” Leon asked relentlessly.

Roswitha, seeing through his intentions, replied evenly, “Good. You did a great job.”

Fine, stubborn dragoness, I’ll make another full cilantro feast for you tomorrow.

“I’m glad you liked it,” Leon said.

Roswitha chuckled coldly, putting down a clean plate before switching the topic. “I’ll sleep in your room tonight.”

Leon froze. “In my room…?”

“Mhm. Make sure it’s tidy. See you tonight.”

With that, Roswitha dried her hands and walked off without further explanation.

Though she didn’t elaborate, Leon understood perfectly.

After all, they were practically old hands at this by now. He knew exactly what she meant by a mere glance.

His guess? Tonight’s cilantro "revenge" had sparked Roswitha's desire to torment him in return.

It didn’t help that it had been half a month since their last “homework session.”

Usually, depending on her mood, Roswitha would alternate between using her bedroom or Leon’s nursery for these sessions.

If she felt like spicing things up with something playful—teacher roleplay or boss roleplay, for instance—she’d choose her room.

If it were going to be a simple, uninhibited night of passion, she’d opt for Leon’s room.

This was mainly because she didn’t want to make her own room a mess.

So, tonight promised to be yet another long and tumultuous evening, then?

However, after a brief moment of surprise, Leon quickly composed himself.

Thanks to his extraordinary recovery rate—and the abundant, high-nutrient meals of the Dragon Clan—his body had undergone a complete transformation during these two weeks.

Roswitha thought she could squash him again so easily this time?

Not so fast!

If she wanted to come at him, then fine.

He’d make sure this dragoness wouldn’t escape unscathed!

Still, to throw her off, Leon made a show of feigned reluctance.

“How about another time?” he asked.

The predictable response came: “No.”

“Alright.”

Fine, dragoness, I gave you a chance—to brace yourself.

---

Later that night, Leon tidied his nursery room briefly, then sat at his desk, awaiting her arrival.

Soon enough, the door creaked open, and in walked Roswitha wearing a thin, silk camisole nightgown.

Her dragon-wing slippers padded softly against the floor, the hem of her gown barely reaching the tops of her thighs.

Her long, shapely legs were exposed to the cool night air, tantalizing and dangerous.

The Dragon Mark on her chest glimmered faintly; her smooth shoulders gleamed pale as moonlight. The soft curves of her body shifted gently in time with her steps.

As she passed by, her scent—a mixture of her natural fragrance and her recent bath—wafted over to him, intoxicating.

Without a word, Roswitha climbed into bed, pulling up the blankets and slipping underneath.

“Did you shower?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Good. Come here.”

After a pause, she added, “Take off your shirt first.”

Leon silently obliged, stripping off his shirt.

Her gaze flickered over his toned, athletic body. Between his defined muscles and perfectly chiseled abs, Leon's physique was the kind that practically begged to be touched.

But Roswitha had no such intentions tonight.

She quickly looked away, shutting her eyes lightly.

Moments later, Leon crawled onto the bed beside her.

“Lights off?” he asked.

“Turn them off.”

Click.

The bedside lamp went out, and darkness enveloped the room.

Moonlight spilled softly through the window, but Leon paid no attention to Roswitha’s silhouetted profile.

He was lying in wait, like a lion ready to pounce, watching for the right moment.

To turn the tables on a dragoness required skill, finesse, and guts.

Some might say Roswitha herself had laid the foundation for such a counterattack. If that were true, then Leon’s plan was rock-solid; a decisive, strategic victory was assured.

Except… minutes passed. Roswitha remained completely still.

Leon turned his head slightly, only to see that her eyes were shut, her breathing calm and steady. She’d already fallen asleep.

Is she… asleep?

So much for the promised chaos of explosions. How did she fall asleep?

Leon gently poked her arm. “Hey, hey.”

No response.

She was really asleep.

Damn.

You said you wanted to sleep in my room, and you really just came here to sleep? Nothing more?

Leon’s thoughts began to stir. If Roswitha was asleep now, and if he took this opportunity to claim his victory over her…

No, the timing wasn’t right.

This dragoness always chose to go full offense, straight to his face. Taking her down at such a moment would be far more enjoyable.

Besides, Leon had been painstakingly saving his health bar for half a month now. He couldn’t let it be wasted so easily.

Money should be spent where it counts.

With that thought, Leon scooted a little further away from Roswitha, putting some distance between them. Soon after, he too began drifting off to sleep.

But around two in the morning, a pair of silver eyes slowly opened.

Roswitha sat up quietly, gently nudging Leon’s shoulder. “Wake up. It’s punishment time. Wake up.”

Leon didn’t react.

Roswitha smiled knowingly. “Perfect.”

She glanced up at the wall clock: exactly 2:30 a.m.

Tiger had once told her that, as long as it was 2:30 in the morning and Leon was asleep, asking him any question might yield an honest response straight from his heart.

Roswitha was itching to test it out.

No need to hesitate over what to ask—she’d already thought about it beforehand.

“I’ll start with something simple as a test,” she murmured to herself.

Clearing her throat, she spoke: “Leon Casmod, what’s your youngest daughter’s name?”

“Mhm...” Leon mumbled in his sleep, but didn’t answer her question.

Roswitha frowned slightly. “Could tonight be a miss?”

Just as she was debating whether to try again tomorrow night, she suddenly heard Leon murmur in a blurry, half-conscious voice:

“Muen… Muen K. Melkevi.”

A light gleamed in Roswitha’s eyes. “Oh ho~ Got him.”

Bullseye on the first question. As expected from family!

“Alright, second question.”

Her voice lowered with a sly grin.

“That girl you rejected in five seconds during school—what does she look like?”

Love history + embarrassing history = double the damage!

Leon mumbled groggily again, “Mmm… silver hair, tall… kinda pretty…”

Roswitha’s eyes lowered, her tone icy as she let out a soft snort. “So after all these years, you still remember her so clearly. Hah, typical scumbag man. Why is it that you turned down others instantly, but hesitated for a full five seconds with her?”

“Mmm… hehe~ hehehehe~”

“What are you laughing at! Answer me properly!”

“She… she looked pretty… hehe…”

Roswitha’s expression darkened unconsciously. “If you thought she was so pretty, why did you turn her down? You should’ve been dating her then.”

“Because… mmm… because I only like silver hair and tall girls… not her specifically.”

Roswitha’s face softened slightly at this response, if only a little. “Then what else do you like?”

“I also like… mature women, black stockings, bunny girls…”

Roswitha suppressed a laugh, folding her arms across her chest as if she had just unearthed a major secret. “So you’re into bunny girls, huh, you scumbag man.”

This was something even his mentor didn’t know about.

She hadn’t anticipated discovering such an accidental bonus!

“Now tell me—do you secretly wish that schoolgirl with the five-second hesitation would don a bunny girl outfit for you?”

“N… no…”

Roswitha: “Then who do you want to see wearing a bunny girl outfit?”

“Emmmm… Roswitha.”

The dragon queen: ?

Ha! Dream on! I, the mighty Silver Dragon Queen, would never wear a bunny girl outfit for you!