After lunch, Leon and Roswitha began their afternoon date itinerary.

They visited an indoor zoo and got to feed some adorable little animals up close.

For these fluffy creatures devoid of sentience, the Dragon Clan was no different from humans in their judgment—anything that wasn’t outright ugly could be categorized as “cute.”

But Roswitha wouldn’t use the word “cute” to describe them.

Because in the Dragon Clan’s culture, “cute” was a derogatory term.

Throughout their trip to the zoo, Leon kept trying to coax Roswitha into saying the word “cute.”

Roswitha, growing increasingly annoyed, was finally pushed to the point where her cheeks flushed slightly, and she snapped, “Casmod, you’re the one that’s disgustingly cute!”

After the zoo, they moved on to their next destination: a pottery workshop.

Roswitha sculpted a chibi version of Leon.

And Leon, on the other hand, made a model of Roswitha’s full dragon form.

When they were done, the couple gazed at each other with smiles, their eyes seemingly filled with affection—

The workshop owner was about to praise their skills.

But before the words could leave his mouth, the couple simultaneously snapped the necks of their respective clay figures with a “crack!”

The words died in the owner’s throat.

“Marital harmony... doesn’t seem too great,” the owner mused. He then added, “However… you’ll still need to pay the full price, even if you’ve broken them.”

Come evening, they left Sky City and headed to the final stop on their date:

The seaside.

Sky City wasn’t far from the coast—in less than twenty minutes of flying, they arrived.

The areas close to Sky City were free from war, conflict, and interspecies disputes.

Most of the visitors here were Dragon Clan individuals who had grown weary of fighting and came to embrace a peaceful, laid-back lifestyle.

As the last stop of their date, it was a perfect choice.

The couple sat on a bench near the beach, with various shopping bags piled beside them.

They looked out at the sandy shore not far away. The sunset fell across the sand, making it shimmer like scattered gold.

A few young dragon hatchlings played barefoot, building sandcastles. Nearby, their parents strolled and chatted leisurely.

Occasionally, seagulls flew over Leon and Roswitha’s heads, accompanied by a salty, cool breeze that was both refreshing and soothing.

Leon exhaled slowly, his posture relaxing as he leaned back into the bench in a lazy, semi-slumped position.

The directors hadn’t set too many requirements for this part—just that it should feel light and natural.

So right now, perhaps, they were at their most relaxed.

"Let’s talk about something; we can’t just sit here until night falls," Roswitha said.

"What do you want to talk about?"

"What about—" Roswitha tidied the strands of her hair by her temple. "That female classmate you dreamed about."

Leon rolled his eyes at her in exasperation. "Let me be clear: the only female being I have any ties with is you!"

"Tch—"

"Wait, I think I understand now…"

Leon straightened up as if something had dawned on him.

Roswitha glanced at him from the corner of her eye. "What?"

Leon narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing her, and said in a teasing tone, "Ah-ha, someone seems to care a bit too much. Could it be that you’re… jealous—mmph!"

Roswitha slapped her hand over his mouth.

"Actually, you said something even juicier that night. Want to hear what it was?"

"Mmph?"

Roswitha chuckled softly, withdrew her hand, and stood up. "Guess."

She was in no hurry; some cards needed to be played slowly.

With her hands tucked into the pockets of their matching couple's sweatshirt, she strolled toward the beach.

Her silver ponytail swayed behind her, brimming with energy and cheerfulness.

Leon wanted to chase after her and press for answers.

He glanced left and right but didn’t see the two directors or their assistant, Anna.

Still, Leon had a feeling they were watching from somewhere nearby.

There was no need to worry about their shopping bags being stolen either, so he momentarily left them behind and jogged after Roswitha.

He caught up to her and started, "What exactly did I dream—"

"Shh."

Roswitha pressed a finger to her lips, indicating for him to be quiet. She had no intention of bringing up that truth or dare matters at 2:30.

Her gaze shifted to the other strolling couples on the beach. Without exception, all of them were holding hands or linking arms.

Leon followed her line of sight and quickly realized what she was thinking.

"Whether a story is perfect or not often depends on how it ends," Roswitha remarked softly. She lifted her gaze to look at Leon.

"So, dear Leo, are you brave enough to try holding hands with the least compatible Scorpio?" Roswitha asked, half-teasing.

Leon let out a light chuckle. "What’s there to be afraid of?"

He extended his hand and gently took Roswitha’s in his own.

This time, it wasn’t a fingers-interlocked kind of hand-holding.

Since Leon was the one initiating, their palms were simply pressed together, with his large hand lightly enveloping hers.

This was already a very bold gesture. Adjusting their grip to intertwine fingers might make the dragoness misinterpret his intentions, right?

Yes, this would suffice.

Hand in hand, the couple strolled leisurely along the beach.

Behind them, their footprints and a long tail mark trailed in the sand.

The rough grit of the sand rubbed against the tip of Roswitha’s tail, tickling slightly.

And the broad, slightly cool hand firmly gripping hers provided a sense of security.

The fortune teller Aph had been correct earlier that day: Roswitha was someone who lacked a sense of security.

It had nothing to do with astrological signs.

She had been born this way.

What she hadn’t expected was that, in this moment, she could walk hand-in-hand along the beach with a Dragon Slayer, of all people—the person least likely to give her any sense of security.

Sometimes, this world truly was crazy.

Swoosh—

The tide rolled up to their feet.

"Oh, wait a second."

Roswitha let go of Leon’s hand, bent down, and removed her ankle boots. Then she rolled up her pant legs, revealing her petite and rounded ankles.

"Whew, there, now I don’t have to worry about getting my shoes wet."

She held her boots in one hand. "Do you want to take yours off too?"

Leon blinked, slightly caught off guard. "Oh, sure."

He also slipped off his shoes and rolled up his pant legs, taking the other hand to hold them.

"Alright, let’s keep walking."

As she spoke, Roswitha naturally reached out with her free hand and reclaimed Leon’s hand.

The waves surged again, washing over their ankles.

Cool and soothing.

The sun teetered on the horizon where the sky met the ocean, marking the second time they’d watched the sunset today.

The first had been at the theater—unreal, and without half the atmosphere or setting as now.

Still, this good moment was about to end. While completing the directors’ assignment brought a sense of relief, there was also an inexplicable tinge of melancholy.

The sound of the tide, the cry of seagulls.

Leon turned his head to look at Roswitha.

The beauty’s silver hair danced in the sea breeze, revealing her delicate forehead.

It was often said that bangs could enhance someone’s looks, and thus removing them showed one’s true face.

Yet, in Roswitha’s case, the saying didn’t seem to apply.

Whether she had bangs or not, she was equally stunning.

The sunlight illuminated her profile, accentuating her exquisite features.

Especially her nose—elegant and perfectly shaped.

"Why are you staring at me?" Roswitha asked, her gaze still fixed ahead.

Leon quickly averted his eyes. "Just admiring the sun."

Hand in hand, carrying their shoes, the couple walked on the beach, leaving footprints and gentle ripples in the evening tide.

Not far away, hidden inside a bus stop, two young dragon girls peeked out.

"Darn it, I should’ve spent more time finding the camera this morning," Noa grumbled.

Mom and Dad looked so picturesque in this scene. It was such a waste not to document it with photographs!

"Huh? You didn’t find the camera this morning?" Muen asked.

Noa shook her head. "I searched the whole storage room in Mom’s quarters and came up empty. Ah, what a shame; we can’t capture such a beautiful moment."

"It’s actually not a shame at all."

Anna appeared behind the two dragon girls, interrupting their lament.

Noa and Muen turned to her. "Why do you say that?"

Standing behind them and looking out at the beach where the couple still walked, Anna replied,

"Her Majesty always tells me that the Dragon Clan’s lives are far too long.

Anything beautiful, no matter how cherished now, will one day expire, one day be forgotten.

That’s why, for her, fleeting beauty is the kind she cherishes most."

Both young dragons nodded in semi-comprehension.

They might not fully grasp the meaning, but if it came from their mother, it had to be something good.

They turned their eyes back to the beach.

Their parents had wandered further into the water, starting a playful splash fight.

As they played, their mother suddenly lost her footing and nearly fell into the water. The father caught her just in time, his arm around her waist.

The two looked into each other’s eyes, and then—

Anna quietly placed her hands over the young dragons’ eyes.

"This part is for mature audiences only."

The head maid smiled gently as the last rays of sunlight disappeared behind Her Majesty.