Leon sleepwalked out of the room, through the courtyard, and headed straight for the back mountain of the sanctuary.

Roswitha followed closely behind him.

Watching his movements, the queen muttered to herself, "That cunning Dragon Slayer… As expected, he didn’t hide the photos in his room. To search for a few photos in the vast back mountain is truly like finding a needle in a haystack."

But fortunately, she now had a human "magnet," one that sleepwalked on adventurous escapades, capable of pulling that fine silver needle lost in the sea back to her.

Furthermore, Roswitha had discovered a trick about 2:30 in the morning.

If you wanted to ask Leon a truthful question, the window of time was only one minute; if it went past that, he would no longer respond.

However, if you wanted to make him go on a daring adventure, as evidenced by the current situation, he wouldn’t stop until the task was completed.

Thinking this, Roswitha broke into a knowing smile.

It seemed it would be more efficient to have him take on dares in the future—better returns for the investment.

With that in mind, Roswitha followed Leon to the back mountain.

After walking for about twenty minutes, they lifted their eyes to see a cherry blossom grove ahead.

It stirred up an unpleasant memory for Roswitha.

When Leon had awoken her using the Blood Enchantment not long ago, the first outdoor "checkpoint" he had dragged her to was this very spot.

He’d claimed it was to "give her a taste of her own medicine," because she had forced him in the woods on the outskirts of the Empire... and now, he wanted to repay her in kind, right in front of her Silver Dragon Castle.

Two people with equally vengeful natures should never get married—otherwise, there would never be peace in their household.

Forcing her thoughts back on track, she trailed after Leon into the cherry blossom grove.

Yet, Leon did not stop walking.

"Could it be that they aren't hidden here...?"

Truth be told, this cherry blossom grove held a certain amount of significance for the two of them—regardless of whether that significance was good or bad. At first, Roswitha genuinely believed Leon might have hidden the photos here.

But since they weren’t, she might as well keep following him.

Next, the sleepwalking Leon led Roswitha to a small stream.

This place was also vividly imprinted in Roswitha’s memory—it was their second checkpoint after the cherry blossom grove back then.

That night, stars adorned the sky, and the cool river water flowed beneath them, in stark contrast to the heat and angst coursing through their bodies.

Roswitha let out a low "hiss," shaking her head to drive away these distracted and chaotic recollections.

She turned to Leon. The man showed no sign of stopping.

It seemed the photos weren’t here either.

They leapt over the water and ventured deeper.

Passing several more of their previous checkpoints, Roswitha noticed something subtle—or perhaps coincidental.

The places Leon passed through were all the outdoor "checkpoints" they had conquered together before—and in exact order.

People say dreams often reflect one’s innermost thoughts. Could sleepwalking, perhaps, do the same?

So that outdoor excursion must have brought a great sense of accomplishment to this wretched man, didn’t it?

"The higher you climb, the harder you fall. Go ahead and bask in your dreamland triumph while you still can, Dragon Slayer. Your day of reckoning will come."

With her emotions subtly stirring, Roswitha continued to follow Leon.

Walking along, they arrived at a grove of poplar trees.

This was not one of their previous checkpoints.

The cool night air blew gently, stirring the poplar leaves that hung precariously on the branches, rustling softly.

Creak, creak—

Their footsteps fell on the thick carpet of fallen leaves, every step resounding crisply.

Suddenly, Leon came to a halt ahead.

Roswitha also stopped, her steps stilled as she frowned, staring at the man’s silhouette in front of her.

The wind in the forest picked up once more, rustling the leaves between them.

Silver strands brushed against Roswitha’s face as she glanced around, pondering to herself whether the photos could be hidden here.

But Leon made no move to search; he merely stood still, his back to her.

Moments later, Roswitha suddenly realized something.

Creak—

The man before her stepped on the leaves as he turned around slowly. Under the moonlight, his sharp and handsome face bore a sly smile.

"So I fell into your trap..." Upon seeing Leon's expression, Roswitha immediately realized what was happening.

He wasn’t sleepwalking at all. Nor had he ever been performing any "sleepwalking dare" under Roswitha’s orders.

He had been playing along with her act this entire time—to lure her far away from Silver Dragon Castle.

The poor queen had been completely toyed with by the cunning Dragon Slayer.

His obedient behavior had merely been a deceptive weapon; the moment he found an opportunity, he would repay her a hundredfold.

She felt a sense of collapse.

It was as if she had exhausted every means, only to realize she could never escape Leon’s grasp—a profound feeling of powerlessness.

However, she silently tucked that feeling away in her heart—it would serve as fuel for her vengeance in the future.

Failure is the mother of success. What goes around comes around. Roswitha refused to believe she couldn’t reclaim the upper hand.

She stumbled back a few steps, leaning against one of the poplar trees.

Creak, creak—

The man who held her fate so tightly walked toward her unhurriedly, his footsteps crunching on the dry poplar leaves beneath him—a sound like her shattered will to resist.

Leon came to a stop before Roswitha. Observing her somewhat dazed expression, he chuckled,

"Although I don’t know what kind of charm magic you used to make me follow your every word, it’s clear that it didn’t work on me."

Roswitha gazed at him, thinking to herself, Fool. There is no charm magic—only your peculiar and ridiculous weakness.

For now, though, Roswitha had no plans to inform Leon about the 2:30 trick.

Though this time she had miscalculated, this method remained a reliable way to extract his honest thoughts or make him go on sleepwalking adventures.

It was bound to come in handy someday.

Moreover, judging from what he’d just said, Leon himself seemed unaware of his particular vulnerability.

His mentor, likely just like Roswitha, probably never told him about it in order to coax him into completing more farm work.

So Roswitha had to keep it a secret. If she disclosed it, Leon would surely find a way to overcome this bizarre flaw.

Who would ever say no to having more trump cards in hand for a counterattack? Right?

Even in a disadvantageous position, the Silver Dragon Queen continued to plan carefully, building her foundation steadily.

"Those places we just passed—you’re quite familiar with them, aren’t you?"

Leon spoke as he leaned closer.

Roswitha had no choice but to press herself against the tree trunk, her back already plastered to it, while her slender figure leaned away as best as possible. Leon was so close she could even feel his warm breath against her.

Looking into his dark, amused eyes, Roswitha was both embarrassed and furious.

Clearly, when he took her through those checkpoints earlier, it wasn’t on a whim. It had been a deliberate attempt to bring back those memories.

Realizing this, Roswitha turned her head away. But Leon reached out, pinching her chin to force her to look at him.

"Tell me, Melkevi…" Leon smiled. "From tonight’s outdoor lecture, which part did you enjoy the most? The cherry blossom grove, the stream, or perhaps... this poplar forest?"

Since her plan had been discovered by Leon, Roswitha saw no point in pretending to be a weak, helpless girl anymore. "I liked none of it! Especially not here!"

"Good, very good. Then let’s conclude tonight’s final lesson right here."

"You!..."

Slaying dragons wasn’t enough—he wanted to break her spirit too.

You’re so cruel, Kazmod!

Before Roswitha could retort further, his broad, slightly cool hand encircled her slender waist, pulling her tightly into his embrace.

What followed was the searing softness of his lips pressing against hers.

At first, Roswitha struggled, patting at Leon’s shoulders. But her resistance only made Leon kiss her more deeply and hold her even tighter.

In the end, Roswitha surrendered.

If resistance was futile, she might as well momentarily savor the embrace before the oncoming storm.

After all, since mastering the art of kissing, Leon was always soft and tender with her—nothing like those so-called "overbearing Dragon Kings," who were crude and greasy.

As the kiss deepened, the Dragon Mark began to glow.

Rustle—

The beauty’s delicate figure fell back onto the pile of leaves, scattering golden fragments into the air. Her silvery hair splayed against the leaves, swaying like a flowing tassel under the twilight.

Roswitha’s fingertips inadvertently picked up a leaf. Bringing it to her lips, she placed it in her mouth.

Creak—

The leaf crunched between her teeth, as though signaling the start of an entirely new game.