Originally intending to leave, the audience quickly returned to their seats upon realizing there was a post-credits scene.

Even the actors who had already taken their bows refrained from leaving the stage, deciding instead to stay and enjoy the performance up close from the folk artist.

Among the actors, however, were two stone stools—props that were supposed to stay immobile—somehow discreetly shifting to the side of the stage.

Clap—clap—clap—

The host began to slowly applaud, and with a look at Leon, couldn't help but praise him.

"This gentleman may not be a professional actor, but if you observe closely, his expression—capturing the mix of shyness and embarrassment—is absolutely spot on. And the longing and anticipation he exudes for the proposal? Simply masterful."

As the host showered Leon with flattery, Leon turned to face Roswitha and slowly knelt on one knee.

He tried his best to block out the flood of exaggerated compliments assaulting his ears.

But the host's verbal barrage was relentless.

"Look closely—the motion of kneeling on one knee! The gaze he directs at his partner! The reverence with which he presents the ring!"

"Ladies and gentlemen, this man is the complete package: talent, emotions—all of it!"

"If their love weren't genuine, how else could they execute such an authentic performance?"

"Applause for them, everyone!"

Raucous applause rang out from the audience once more.

Even the professional actors on stage, caught up in the host’s enthusing, began to clap along.

For some reason, this scene felt oddly familiar.

Had this happened before?

Where had he experienced this before...?

Ah—

Leon remembered.

It wasn't the scene that felt familiar—it was the host's "ecstatic shipper" demeanor that struck a chord. It was unmistakably reminiscent of Vice Principal Wilson, that old dragon!

So, are you a spy sent by Wilson?

In our nation, espionage incurs its own set of severe punishments: hanging.

Although hanging might be too cruel, the compassionate Dragon Slayer could kindly offer you a quick and painless end—one slash, and it’s over in the blink of an eye.

Thanks to the host's coordination, the audience and actors on stage had their attention fully fixated on Leon and Roswitha.

Meanwhile, the two stone stools, played by people, had gone entirely unnoticed.

One of the stools shifted slightly closer to the other and whispered, "Sis, Dad's about to propose to Mom. Why aren’t you smiling?”

"Muen, don’t you feel... that this all seems awfully familiar?"

Muen blinked in confusion and shook her head. "Muen doesn’t remember."

Noa sighed. "Figures. You were busy being an audience member back then. The ones socially obliterated on stage were me, Mom, and Dad."

Every time Noa thought back to that day of the school opening ceremony, where they gave the "model family" speech, she cringed so hard she wanted to dig a hole with her tail.

And now, they're reprising that moment simply so she could get some material for an essay?

Infuriating! Truly, picking this “stone stool disguise” was a mistake.

Originally, she just wanted to observe Mom and Dad’s reactions up close for better insight.

Who would’ve thought the “effect” would be this overwhelming?

But what's done is done; no point lamenting now.

Looking at it another way, the male and female leads unintentionally got pushed to perform a proposal scene right before their eyes. Who’s to say that wasn’t a happy accident?

Noa curled up quietly beneath her stone stool costume and watched the events unfold.

After kneeling, she saw Dad hold up the prop ring and look up at Mom.

Mom, just like Dad, blushed furiously, caught entirely off guard.

Noa rarely saw this side of her mother.

At home, Mom was the gentle yet strict head of the household.

At work, Mom was the diligent and commanding queen of their tribe.

Even at that infamous school opening ceremony, Mom merely appeared awkward—nothing like the shy, flustered version of her she was now.

Well, this is fine too.

After all, Dad’s original proposal had been a private matter, so neither Noa nor Muen witnessed it. This could serve as a “replay catch-up.”

Leon licked his lips and began speaking the awkward, stilted lines of the script.

"My dearest Judy—"

Judy was the name of the female lead in the play.

Leon silently thanked his lucky stars the character wasn’t actually named Roswitha.

"Will you... marry... marry me..."

At that moment, Leon and Roswitha both hit their ultimate threshold of embarrassment.

Even the spotlight mimicking the warm hue of a sunset struggled to conceal the rosy blush spreading across their faces.

Their hearts raced, their minds felt foggy, and Leon’s head swam with a scatterbrained dizziness.

Holding Roswitha’s cool hand—a hand so soft and delicate, her slender fingers and slim wrist felt like art—Leon couldn't help but notice just how beautiful they were.

As his brain approached a total shutdown from sheer mortification, Leon actively tuned out everything around him.

At this moment, all he could see was his "Judy."

His gaze traveled from her hand, up her arm, and finally landed on her face.

Even when viewed from an angle that's hard to look good in, her face somehow remained flawless.

With that shy, endearing expression overlaying her features, Roswitha’s beauty seemed to serve as Leon's shock absorber, holding his crumbling composure together.

And knowing their daughters were observing somewhere in the background, Leon decided to throw caution to the wind!

"My dearest Judy, will you marry me?"

Roswitha’s hand was held firmly by Leon, her other hand nervously clutching the fabric of her couple's shirt.

Every pore in her body felt like it was radiating heat. If not for the sheer density of the crowd, she might have tucked her tail between her legs and bolted.

She bit down on her lower lip, clearly feeling her cheeks grow hotter and redder with each passing second.

All she wanted was to escape—desperately, desperately.

But…

If this guy was brave enough to spout those cheesy lines...

Could she really let herself be outdone by her own “prisoner of war?”

There was no way she’d let that happen!

What was agreeing to a proposal anyway? It’s not like it was impossible!

"Nick—"

Nick was the male lead’s name.

She was just about to utter those two critical words.

The entire audience, the cast, and even the host held their breaths, waiting in silent anticipation.

The stone stools hiding backstage widened their eyes.

Noa stared intently at her mom’s lips, eagerly waiting for the pivotal line.

“I… do.”

Judy accepted Nick’s proposal, sparking a third round of applause from the crowd.

The stone stools collectively sighed in relief... transforming into oversized river pebbles.

Muen scooted closer again. “Sis, your eyes are red.”

Noa snapped out of her thoughts. “Huh? Really?”

“They are, they are! And even though I don’t fully understand what proposals are, my eyes feel kinda stingy too. Are mine red?”

Noa gave her sister a small smile, leaning in to gently brush the corner of Muen’s eye with her cheek. “Not red anymore.”

“Mm-hmm, thanks, Sis~”

It’s not every day kids get to witness their dad proposing to their mom—because proposals, after all, usually happen before kids are born.

So naturally, a bit of teariness is entirely normal.

The audience and actors alike were utterly charmed by the soft, innocent dynamic emanating from this couple’s shy, earnest portrayal of a proposal.

If these two joined the industry, they might just become tomorrow’s stars!

Little did they know, these “rising stars’” performance wasn’t acting at all—it was 100% genuine!

Led by the host, the audience erupted into cheers once again, missing the tiny detail that the prop ring had never actually been placed on Roswitha’s hand.

Everything concluded the moment the line “I do” was spoken.

Leon stood up, returned the ring to the male actor, and let out a sigh of relief.

“Whew~”

“Whew~~”

A nearly identical exhale echoed from beside him.

Turning his head, Leon caught Roswitha doing the exact same thing.

The two spouses locked eyes, and within a heartbeat, they understood each other’s thoughts with wordless clarity:

Run!

Hand in hand, they bolted offstage in unison.

Watching their retreating figures, the host delivered one last comedic jab.

“Run, run—run toward the graveyard of love!”

Bang—

The sound of the stage door closing shut behind them cut off the roaring applause, cheers, and teasing whistles. All at once, the world returned to a blissful calm.

The couple, having emerged from the gates of social death, now felt like reborn souls.

The sunlight had never felt so warm, the air never so fresh.

Is this what a world without social embarrassment feels like?

It’s truly magnificent, dear friends!

After regaining her composure, Roswitha straightened up, glanced around, and soon spotted the restroom nearby.

“Wait for me, I’m going to freshen up.”

Sweating bullets earlier had left her feeling frazzled. Though her makeup was light to begin with, a touch-up surely wouldn’t hurt.

Leon nodded.

While Roswitha was occupied touching up, Leon strolled leisurely down the theater corridor.

The interior of the theater was fairly expansive, housing not only the playhouse but also medium-sized movie theaters and even an indoor playground for young dragons.

It was a comprehensive entertainment center indeed.

As Leon wandered, his attention was caught by a DIY photo printing booth.

The Dragon Slayer’s eyes instantly lit up.

It seems the stars have aligned in his favor!

This date in Sky City had always come with a secondary agenda for Leon—a way to transform the fruits of his previous "Bunny Girl" endeavor into something tangible.

And now, fortune had smiled upon him.

Glancing toward the restroom area, he saw no sign of Roswitha returning yet.

Perfect timing!

Leon strode quickly to the photo booth, lifted the curtain, and slipped inside.

Truthfully, he had contemplated fulfilling this task back in the Silver Dragon Clan. However, none of the tribe's facilities included self-service printing stations—all processes were handled manually.

Important matters call for utmost discretion. The fewer people involved, the better. Confidentiality couldn’t be compromised.

Letting the Silver Dragon Clan catch wind of Roswitha’s rather explosive photo shoot? Leon might genuinely find himself bound and hung atop the Silver Dragon Castle as punishment.

Nothing could be more conspicuously provocative than that—not exactly playing fair.

So Leon pinned his hopes on Sky City offering self-service photo facilities.

Who would've thought he'd find one so early in the outing?

After all, in a large entertainment venue like this, the need for on-the-spot photo DIY services is practically a given.

Leon placed the camera onto the developing equipment, carefully selecting the shots of the Bunny Girl photos, and then started the machine.

To be on the safe side, he printed five copies of each photo, intending to hide them in five different places once he got back.

Even if one or a few copies were discovered by Roswitha, he wouldn’t panic at all.

Preparing just one backup wasn’t Leon’s style;

Preparing five backups was.

Moments later, the freshly printed Roswitha Bunny Girl portrait set was ready.

Leon didn’t take a closer look—after all, there would be plenty of time to enjoy them later.

He quickly retrieved the camera and deleted all the Bunny Girl photos from its memory. This way, the photos in his hands would become one-of-a-kind!

Once he got home, he planned to hide the five printed copies securely for emergencies. When Roswitha made her next move, Leon would have ample ammunition for a counterattack.

If Roswitha were ever provoked enough to lose all composure and try to force things, Leon was prepared to show her just how terrifying a Dragon Slayer, who had been saving his energy for at least two weeks, could be when confronting an enraged mother dragon.

Now that’s what you call a top-tier strategist.

Leon packed up the photos and the camera, then exited the self-service photo lab.

By the time he got back to the theater entrance, Roswitha had just finished touching up her makeup.

The couple stood face to face as Roswitha gave him a once-over with a suspicious look in her eyes.

“Why do you look like you’re in such a good mood?” she asked.

“You accepted my proposal, my dear Judy. Of course, I’m happy.”

Roswitha’s face darkened, though she played along. “Well, my dear Nick, what’s our next date plan, then? Stir-fried Nick with extra carrots?”

“Steamed Judy with extra cilantro.”

Bantering as they went, the two left the theater and headed straight for the next part of their date.