Late in the evening, the silver-haired beauty sat at the desk in her study, dressed in a thin, sheer, strappy nightgown. Her long, elegant legs were crossed, and a pair of dragon-wing slippers dangled precariously from her dainty feet. A faint trace of red kiss marks lingered on her swan-like neck and the faintly visible softness of her chest.

Roswitha opened the locked drawer and took out a dark brown leather-bound diary.

Since that day, half a month had passed, and she found herself writing in her diary far more frequently than before.

She had struggled, fought, but failed to change the situation.

Helpless and burdened by suppressed humiliation, with no outlet for venting, she was left with recording her turmoil in her diary as a means of slight relief.

"Roswitha's Diary":

"October 3rd, Leon took out the secret photos he had snapped of me in a Bunny Girl outfit and used them to threaten me, forcing me to wear the outfit again and... engage with him."

"October 4th, I tried to find and destroy those photos and their backups, only to be caught by Leon. I was forced to engage again."

"October 5th, early morning. I thought my daring plan at two thirty in the morning had succeeded, but as he led me to that grove of poplar trees, I realized it was all just a trap he had set to... engage with me. These damned captors!"

"October 6th: Engaged."

"October 7th: Engaged."

"..."

"October 11th: Engaged."

"October 12th. Roswitha, oh Roswitha, you cannot continue allowing that infernal captor to trample you! You must resist! Fight back!"

"October 13th: Engaged."

"October 14th. I snapped at him—truly lost my temper this time, with genuine anger. Unexpectedly, he didn't retaliate, nor did he mock me. Instead, he waited for me to calm down and spoke gently, saying he understood me, sympathized with me, and added a few sweet nothings.

I know this kind of behavior is called ‘comforting’ in human society, often used between lovers or married couples. While I don’t fully grasp the concept, his sweet words actually lightened my mood a bit. Sometimes that dog of a man has quite a honeyed tongue.

Then, we engaged again.

Ha! I’d sooner believe in ghosts than trust a man’s silver tongue!"

"October 15th. Night. He forced me to call him ‘husband.’ I refused, so he kept tormenting me from after dinner until midnight.

Why would the strongest Dragon Slayer demand something so juvenile and cringeworthy? Just because he told me to call him that, I absolutely wouldn’t. Calling him that once during the sports event was already a huge mistake—did he really start believing himself? Idiot! Even if he wore me out till dawn, I still wouldn’t call him that!"

Upon reading this, Roswitha snapped the diary shut with a loud clap and closed her eyes. But the harrowing memories of that night surged unbidden in her mind.

That night, Leon had just wanted to experiment with a new game. If Roswitha obediently called him ‘husband,’ he had planned to let her off.

But to his surprise, this dragoness’s stubborn lips wouldn’t yield.

To force her compliance, Leon first had her dress up again in the Bunny Girl outfit—round two.

Then, as a twist for added fun, he made Roswitha tear a few holes in her black stockings by herself—making the scene even more provocative.

And yet, despite all this, the dragoness held her ground, adamantly refusing to utter the word.

Fine, next up was the second tactic.

Blindfolded kisses.

He wouldn’t tell her where he planned to kiss, aiming for the anxiety of a classroom teacher randomly calling on a student—tense and thrilling.

Yet after all his efforts, her steadfast lips remained sealed.

Alright, Roswitha, if that’s the way you want it, let’s see how you handle this third move.

Leon carried her onto the balcony, pointed to the moon, and declared that he would continue tormenting her until the moon was shrouded by clouds.

Roswitha tilted her head up to gaze at the night sky.

The moon was bright and stars were scattered—there wasn’t a cloud in sight.

Leon’s intentions were transparent: he had no plans to stop.

"Are you going to say it? Hmm?"

"No! Never! Torture me all you want!"

True to his word, the torment began.

Roswitha endured the shame and kept her lips firmly shut, refusing to utter the two simple words that would grant her respite.

"Why won’t you say it?" Leon asked.

"I just won’t! Not a chance!"

Sadly, flipping the diary to the subsequent entry revealed:

"October 16th, 3 a.m. I called him."

"Note: Seven times."

Clap!

Roswitha slammed the diary shut again.

Sure enough, it was unbearable.

From the contents of her diary, she felt it should no longer be called a “diary.” Something like “Queen’s Record of Suffering” or “Grudge Journal” would be more apt.

Roswitha had not intended to record such humiliation and blackmail material on paper, but in order to fuel her revenge against Leon, she documented every agonizing experience.

It was pressure. But also, motivation.

Her silvery eyes fixed on the diary’s cover as her mind churned.

She had to do something.

Truly, she had to act.

If this continued, her stress would skyrocket, her health would collapse, and her position in the household would plummet, leaving her with no hope of regaining power.

With this thought in mind, Roswitha’s peripheral vision caught sight of an envelope in the drawer.

Setting the diary aside, she retrieved the envelope from the drawer.

It was blank—no addressee, no sender. Inside was a single, thin sheet of stationery, far from the thickness one might expect from a letter meant to bring peace of mind after two years of silence.

It was the letter left for Leon by Roswitha’s master when she went to meet Tiger.

Her master had said that once Leon read the contents, he would know they were alive and safe.

Now, Roswitha planned to use her master’s message as leverage to negotiate for the destruction of Leon's photo backups.

Nearly a month had passed since her return, and Roswitha had originally intended to use the letter against Leon later. But given the current situation, she had no choice but to play this card early.

Restoring the balance was the priority.

As for controlling Leon, there were other methods at her disposal—this wasn’t her only leverage.

Pressing her lips together, Roswitha placed the letter back in the drawer and locked it.

Then, she stood up, left the study, and returned to her bedroom.

The bed was slightly disheveled, clear remnants of their earlier “battle.”

Roswitha considered tidying it but decided to change the bedsheets entirely.

After finishing the task, she exhaled softly.

Drip-drap. Drip-drap.

The clock ticked steadily behind her. Roswitha glanced back—it was already midnight.

Sleep tugged at her eyelids, and finally, she could afford to rest early for once.

She took off her slippers, climbed into bed, and nestled under the blankets.

Leaning against the bedpost, Roswitha’s gaze accidentally fell on the oversized teddy bear nearby.

Her silver eyes flickered mischievously, and she grabbed the plush bear, pummeling its soft face with her fists.

As she punched, she muttered under her breath, “Stupid man, stupid man, stupid man! Go to hell!”

Once satisfied, Roswitha tossed the bear aside and drifted into deep slumber.

...

The next night, after dinner, the couple stood side by side washing dishes in the kitchen.

Leon handled the scrubbing, while Roswitha took care of rinsing and drying.

Their teamwork was seamless—no words necessary.

As the last dish was cleaned, Roswitha asked, “Tonight… are you staying over?”

Leon paused momentarily, a teasing grin spreading across his face. “If you want me to leave, all you have to do is beg. I might—just might—consider giving you the night off.”

Roswitha said no more and placed the final plate onto the rack.

After dinner, they played with Muen for a while.

Leon mentioned that Muen was in the early stages of magical awakening, showing signs of discovering her innate magical talent. They needed to monitor her progress closely.

It was good news.

Most juvenile dragons awakened to magic around age three or four.

Geniuses like Noa awakened at just one year old.

As Noa's younger sister, even though Muen usually acted like a cute, harmless mascot, her talent clearly wasn’t lacking.

Provided she was willing to put in the effort.

By eight that evening, Leon carried an exhausted Muen back to her small bed in the sisters’ shared room.

The little dragon curled her tail and lay quietly. Even as her sleepy eyes fluttered shut, she murmured, “I want to learn magic... I want to learn magic...”

With her exceptional sister as inspiration, no adult needed to push her—Muen motivated herself to improve.

Once their youngest soundly slept, the couple returned to Roswitha’s room.

The moment they stepped through the door, before they could even make it to the bed, Leon wrapped his arms around Roswitha’s waist and leaned in for a kiss.

But this time, Roswitha reached out a finger, gently pressing it against his lips and whispering, “Don’t rush. Go to the study—I have a surprise for you tonight.”

Though her words were tempting, why would Leon let her take control?

Give me a break, dragoness. Know your place.

This is still the captor’s phase of domination.

What I say, you do. That’s only natural.

Grasping her wrist, Leon pulled her hand away from his lips.

“And if I insist on doing it right here? At the entrance? Then what?” he challenged.

As he traced his gaze over the lingering kiss marks on her skin, he mockingly murmured, “Tsk, tsk. Such a shame to see such well-kept skin covered in so many love bites. My apologies, Your Majesty.”

“Hmph. Enough of your crocodile tears, Leon,” Roswitha replied. “I’m telling you, tonight—I'm not afraid of you.”

Before dinner, Leon had double-checked the hiding spot where he kept the photo backups. Everything was intact. Nothing had been found.

So, whatever Roswitha rambled on about was, to him, just bluffing.

He brushed her cheek with his fingers, tilting his head. “Dragoness, your whole body might be soft by now, but your mouth is still so stubborn.”

Roswitha smirked. “Aren’t you curious about the surprise I mentioned?”

Leon’s eyes narrowed slightly.

She seemed insistent on the so-called “surprise.” Could it actually be something substantial?

After a moment of contemplation, he released her. “Fine, let’s see what tricks you’ve cooked up in the study.”

Adjusting her neckline, Roswitha cast him a sidelong glance before confidently striding toward the study.

Leon followed behind her.

The couple entered the study, one after the other.

Roswitha walked to the desk, while Leon stood off to the side.

She opened a drawer and pulled out an envelope.

Leon glanced at the envelope, frowning slightly.

Noticing his attention was already fixed on the envelope, Roswitha said unhurriedly, "Here, news about your master."

The moment Leon heard the word "master," he immediately reached out to grab the envelope.

But Roswitha reacted quickly, hiding it behind her back.

She looked at Leon's face, which was filled with anxious worry.

Good, just the expression I wanted to see on him.

"I can tell, after more than two years without contact, you're eager to know how your master is doing," Roswitha said. "However, if you truly want to see what's inside this letter, you're going to have to exchange something for it. Understand?"

Leon immediately guessed what she meant. "The photo backups, right?"

Roswitha nodded.

"But how do I know that the letter is really from my master and not just a blank piece of paper you cooked up to get your hands on the backups?"

As much as Leon was worried about his master's safety, he couldn’t let his guard down in this battle of wits with the trickster in front of him.

If he fell into her trap and gave her an opportunity to turn the tables, his master's safety would be the least of his concerns—he’d have to start worrying about saving himself first.

Roswitha seemed to anticipate this response. "But I'm the only one you can rely on to get any information about your master. If you don’t trust me, you’ve got no other options, right?"

She leaned forward slightly, one hand braced on the desk, her gaze fixed on Leon’s eyes, her lips curling into a smug smile.

"So, what’s it going to be? Are you going to keep hiding those backup photos, or are you going to miss this rare chance to learn about your master?"

Roswitha was right. If Leon wanted to find out about his master's situation, she was his only lead.

Whether the letter was authentic or not, Leon didn’t really have a choice.

However... Leon wasn’t entirely unprepared.

When he initially showed the Bunny Girl photos to Roswitha, he'd told her there were only three prints in total, including the one she had burned.

But in reality, he'd printed five copies.

Even if he handed over the other two prints to Roswitha now, in exchange for the letter, he would still have two backups left in his possession.

No problem. The advantage was still mine.

Of course, that was the fallback Leon had planned for himself. Since this was a deal, though, he fully intended to uphold his end of the bargain.

After all, Roswitha had never once gone back on her word when it came to serious matters like this. How could he, then, turn around and do the same?

Reining in his thoughts, Leon nodded. "Alright, I’ll go get them."

And just like that, the balance of the situation was restored.