Leon walked out of the clothing store, laden with bags, following Roswitha.

"What’s our next plan? Lunch?" Roswitha turned around to ask.

"Yeah, lunch."

Roswitha raised a hand to shade her eyes as she looked at a high-rise building further down the shopping street. A large clock mounted on it displayed the time.

It was only just after ten in the morning.

Their date seemed to be progressing a little too quickly—it wasn’t even close to lunchtime yet.

Leon noticed this as well and suggested, "How about we walk around a bit more?"

Roswitha smiled and gave Leon a once-over, eyeing his hands filled with shopping bags. "If you don’t mind the weight, sure, we can keep going."

Leon curled his lip but didn’t respond. Instead, he turned and strode deeper into the shopping street on his own.

Roswitha crossed her arms and followed behind him, calling out to his back, "Hey, want me to take some of those for you?"

"No need. These are light as feathers," Leon replied briskly without looking back.

He couldn’t help but recall how his mentor’s wife used to buy far more than this whenever they went shopping. Leon would still manage to smile faintly and even compliment her, saying, "Madam, you’ve got great taste."

Every now and then, though, Leon would wonder: since there was always so much to carry, why didn’t she just bring the family donkey along? It would’ve been much more suited to the task than a poor human serving as a pack mule!

The couple continued ambling through the shopping street. Near the exit, they came upon a shop that stood out completely from all the clothing boutiques and jewelry stores surrounding it.

The exterior was dark and intriguingly decorated, with mysterious symbols that were incomprehensible to the casual observer. The shop emanated an eerie, occult vibe.

Curiosity drew them closer. As they peeked inside, they realized it was a fortune-telling parlor.

Leon gave it a cursory glance and was about to leave.

He wasn’t particularly interested in things like fortune-telling or astrology.

His mentor and mentor’s wife, though, used to be obsessed with this sort of thing. Every month they would visit different fortune-tellers to get a reading.

There were even a few occasions when they insisted on dragging Leon along. Unable to refuse, Leon had reluctantly joined them.

Those very experiences had cemented his considerable disdain for the "fortune-telling" industry.

Fortune-teller A had declared, "Your son is extraordinarily gifted, a prodigious scholar in the making who, with a bit of guidance, will rise to be a renowned academic."

Fortune-teller B had proclaimed, "Your beloved boy possesses great skill in political strategy; if he were to enter the court, he would undoubtedly achieve remarkable success."

And then there was Fortune-teller C, who took the cake: "Your son faces imminent bloodshed next month. Transfer 100 gold coins to me, and I’ll help you turn calamity into mere financial loss."

That fiasco almost resulted in his mentor flipping over Fortune-teller C’s entire setup right then and there.

It was no wonder Leon held such strong prejudice against this profession. Just say the magic number—100 gold coins—and you might as well be robbing someone in broad daylight.

So, to Leon, this kind of trickery was fine for passing amusement, but you’d be a fool to take it seriously.

Just as he was about to step away, Leon noticed Roswitha hadn’t followed him.

Looking back, he saw her gazing up at the parlor’s sign and introduction as if genuinely intrigued.

Of course.

"Why don’t we check it out?" Roswitha suggested. "We still have some time before lunch, and there’s nothing else to do."

Well, if the Bunny Girl wants to check it out, why not oblige her? After all, isn’t it customary for condemned prisoners to indulge in a good meal before the execution?

Leon shrugged. "Suit yourself."

The couple stepped into the fortune-telling parlor.

The interior retained the same mysterious and eerie ambiance, with its lighting, carpets, and wall decorations all exuding an air of deliberate mystique.

There weren’t many patrons inside, and it took just one glance to spot the fortune-teller seated at the far end.

She wore a witch’s hat and a long black dress, her ten manicured fingers adorned with nails painted in varied, unique designs—no two alike.

Though her features were strikingly beautiful, her makeup veered heavily toward the gothic, making her appear a touch eccentric.

"Welcome, both of you. Please, have a seat."

The two sat down across from the fortune-teller.

Calm and composed, the fortune-teller first assessed Roswitha with a thoughtful nod before turning to Leon—

And shook her head.

Leon blinked in surprise. "Wait, what’s with the head shake at me?"

"I can tell at a glance, sir—"

Leon inhaled sharply, and beneath the table, his fingers began to crackle faintly with the gathering energy of lightning.

If she somehow saw through the fact that he wasn’t a member of the Dragon Clan, well, sorry, Miss Fortune-teller, but you should’ve foreseen the bloodshed you’d bring upon yourself today!

"You are no ordinary man—"

Leon’s lightning dissipated with an awkward flicker as he cleared his throat. Giving Roswitha a light nudge with his foot under the table, he signaled her to smooth things over for him.

"Thank you for the kind words," Roswitha said with a smile, "but my husband is just a bit good-looking, nothing as extraordinary as you’ve described."

"And how should we address you?" she added conversationally.

"Call me Aphie." The fortune-teller gestured grandly. "Which aspect of your lives would you two like to delve into? Love? Career? If you’re unsure, I also offer comprehensive packages that cover multiple areas."

Well, isn’t that thoughtful? They’ve even packaged fortune-telling into neat little deals now!

Aphie retrieved a wooden board covered with various fortune-telling options.

From astrology to divination with bamboo slips, to tarot cards—it had it all.

Of course, each carried a different price.

Roswitha, though here just for fun, didn’t want anything too convoluted. "Let’s start with a zodiac reading. That should be simple, right?"

"Indeed. All I’ll need are your birthdays," Aphie replied confidently.

"October 25th," Roswitha offered.

"Ah, a Scorpio."

With an air of seriousness, Aphie launched into her explanation. "Scorpios are known as a sign deeply lacking in security but incredibly observant, hypersensitive to changes in their environment. When a Scorpio asks you a question, chances are they already know the answer—they’re just waiting to hear you confirm it with your own words."

Roswitha gave a soft "oh" of acknowledgment. Leon, meanwhile, remained inwardly skeptical of the whole thing.

Aphie carried on, "Scorpio women are often typified by icy exteriors that conceal passionate, untamed hearts. In love, they’re fearless and unyielding—when they fall, it’s an all-or-nothing pursuit."

She paused dramatically before adding, "As for compatible love matches, Scorpios pair best with Pisces and Cancer—a synergy that’s hard to beat."

Roswitha nodded thoughtfully. "And which sign is the least compatible?"

"Leo," Aphie replied matter-of-factly.

"Understood."

Then Aphie turned her attention to Leon. "And your birthday, sir?"

"August 5th."

Having just heard such an elaborate explanation, Leon couldn’t help but ask, "So what does that make me?"

Aphie’s expression turned slightly awkward. She glanced at Roswitha before hesitantly answering, "Sir, you’re a...Leo."

"……"

Well, now it all made sense.

No wonder the two of them seemed to argue constantly. Turns out, it was all written in the stars!

The couple exchanged glances—and then simultaneously looked away.

Seeing this, Aphie panicked slightly and quickly tried to smooth things over.

"Ah, please don’t take it to heart! Zodiac readings are just for reference; they’re not definitive."

"I think it’s very accurate," Leon said, adopting an almost reverent tone.

Leon, before hearing he wasn’t compatible with Roswitha: This is just a sham for gullible people.

Leon, after hearing he wasn’t compatible with Roswitha: Behold the true master of divination!

Aphie wasn’t sure what to make of the couple’s reactions. Flustered, she offered, "To make up for any misunderstanding, how about I give you 30% off on your next reading?"

Roswitha glanced at Leon and then nodded. "Alright."

She didn’t care about the discount; money was no issue. But she had a hunch—whatever came next would spell trouble for Leon.

Everyone knew: if it’s bad for a Dragon Slayer, it must be good for dragons.

Fortune? Must be told!

Aphie reached under the table and brought out a crystal ball. "Sir, place your hand on this crystal ball. I’ll establish a connection with your life force to discern your past and future."

Oh, so it’s getting even more mystical now.

Skeptical yet curious, Leon complied, placing his hand upon the cool surface of the ball.

Aphie closed her eyes and began murmuring as she activated the crystal ball.

Leon felt little aside from the cool, slightly unpleasant texture of the surface.

Aphie’s voice took on an ethereal quality.

"Sir... you are naturally endowed with extraordinary leadership qualities. In your lifetime, many have followed you and revered you..."

Leon’s eyebrows lifted—okay, that was actually pretty on point.

"But!"

Ah, there it was—the classic twist. Can’t set you up just to not sell you something.

"I see... a disaster looming over you."

Leon raised an eyebrow. "A disaster?"

Instinctively, he glanced at Roswitha. What other disaster could there possibly be in his life, besides this dragoness?

"Yes... I see iron bars... overgrown weeds... Oh! Sir! I’ve got it!"

Leon held his breath. "Speak."

"You’re destined for prison!"

"Pfft—hahahahaha!"

Roswitha couldn’t hold it in any longer and doubled over, laughing so hard her shoulders shook.

Leon, on the other hand, looked utterly unimpressed, his face broadcasting an expression that could only be read as: "Seriously, lady?"

Aphie glanced back and forth between them, suddenly doubting her craft. "Did... did I get it wrong?"

Leon lowered his voice and gritted out through clenched teeth, "No, no, you got it perfectly right. Absolutely spot on."

Rubbing her temple in confusion, Aphie pressed on, "Then would you like me to help you avert this disaster, sir?"

Leon’s face darkened by another shade.

The next step in this con was surely the request for 100 gold coins to ward off his supposedly doomed fate.

These fortune-tellers—they all shared the same playbook.

But honestly, wasn’t there a chance his "prison disaster" had already come and gone?

After all, now he was enduring phase two of it—the "captivity disaster."

"Big Sis, you're late."

"No need," Leon said.

"Oh... alright then."

Leon withdrew his hand, stood up, and gave Roswitha's shoulder a light shove. "Stop laughing, pay the money, and let's go."

Roswitha nodded, trying hard to suppress the wild grin threatening to spread across her face. She paid the money and left the fortune-telling shop with Leon.

"Leon Casmod."

Once outside, Roswitha slapped Leon on the shoulder with one hand, a serious look on her face. "You're destined for prison."

Leon shook off her hand, turned, and quickly walked toward the exit of the shopping street.

Roswitha jogged after him, laughing as she added fuel to the fire. "If you need to spend money to avert the disaster, I can offer financial support!"

"Shut up, you wicked dragon!"

Meanwhile, hiding in the shadows, Noa and Muen poked their little heads out, watching the backs of their parents.

"Mom is so happy," Muen said.

"Yeah. Even though today's date was short, it must've been quite special. It's rare to see Mom smiling so much," Noa agreed.

"Big Sis, should we keep following them?"

"Of course."

"Yay~"

The two little dragon girls started moving their tiny legs, racing past the fortune-telling shop's entrance.

Inside, Aph stared at her crystal ball in puzzlement, scratching her head. "Could the crystal ball be wrong?"

She placed her hands on the ball again, attempting to divine that man's fate once more.

But this time, the results of the fortune-telling were completely unrelated to doom or prison.

Aph's eyes snapped open wide as she mumbled to herself,

"A man destined for prison... how could he possibly... have so many children?!"