Before long, Leon returned to the study, holding three sets of Bunny Girl photos.

One set was the one he had initially shown to Roswitha, from which she had burned one photo in a fit of rage.

The other two were what he called "the only remaining backups."

He placed all three sets of photos on the desk and pushed them toward Roswitha.

True to her word, Roswitha handed over the envelope from Leon's master in exchange.

Then, her gaze fell upon the stack of photos in front of her.

She picked them up and flipped through them carefully.

But just one glance was enough to cause her cheeks to flush bright red.

How should she put it? One had to admire the guy's creativity and technique. Without actual bunny ears, he had braided her hair into two bunny ear shapes.

The version of herself in the photos lay silently, posed like a life-sized human doll. Leon had arranged her into various adorable, playful poses.

What a humiliation! This was beyond humiliating!

Moreover, aside from the solo shots, there were plenty of photos where Leon had included himself alongside her.

In every one of those photos, Leon wore a smug, victorious smile.

The more gleeful he appeared in the photos, the harder it became for Roswitha to endure as she looked at them now.

These cannot be kept.

Absolutely cannot be kept.

If Isa were ever to see these, her Silver Dragon Castle would know no peace for the next two hundred years.

Summoning Dragon Flame in her hand, Roswitha instantly reduced the photos to ashes.

Ah~

Finally, Roswitha felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from her heart.

To personally erase her own blackmail material… how could one describe the satisfaction?

That said, Roswitha secretly kept a single photo of the two of them.

In this photo, Roswitha and Leon were not posing too closely together. Later, she could crop her own face out, leaving only Leon alongside an unidentified Bunny Girl lady.

This way, in the future, if Leon ever tried pulling such stunts again, Roswitha could retaliate, saying, "You wouldn't want people finding out about your fondness for black-stockinged Bunny Girls, would you?"

At this moment, Leon had also opened the envelope and begun reading the letter inside.

Roswitha sat quietly in her chair. Although she couldn't see what was written on it, judging by the single sheet of paper, there didn't seem to be much content.

Knowing that mysterious old man, he likely wouldn't have written some sentimental, lengthy spiel.

Simply providing a brief update about Tagger's situation would suffice.

Roswitha didn't rush him, instead waiting calmly for Leon to finish reading the letter.

As she observed Leon's eyes, she realized that his pupils hadn't moved at all—they remained fixed on one particular spot on the page.

Roswitha frowned slightly. Could it be that Tagger had written some kind of cryptic hint he couldn’t understand?

Or… something else?

After a moment of thought, Roswitha asked, "What did your master write? Would you mind if I take a look?"

Leon pressed his lips together and placed the letter facedown on the desk before sliding it over to Roswitha.

Roswitha picked up the letter and glanced down.

And then… she froze too.

No wonder Leon's eyes hadn’t moved earlier. He had been staring at one particular spot on the page.

Because this letter… only contained a single sentence.

No, calling it "a sentence" might even overstate its word count. To be precise, it consisted of… "three words"—

"Boy, donkey fine, don't worry."

That’s it.

Just now, Roswitha had thought the mysterious old man wouldn’t get too sentimental, so the letter probably wouldn’t be very long.

But she hadn’t anticipated that it’d not only be short, but astonishingly concise.

And within this brevity, a third of the content was dedicated to his donkey.

What even was this?

Some kind of master-pupil code between them?

Roswitha blinked a few times before setting the letter down and looking up at Leon.

The couple exchanged a brief glance. Then Roswitha asked, "With such a unique flair, I trust you're certain this letter is genuine?"

For now, setting aside any deeper interpretations of why Tagger had written those six words, Roswitha needed to prove this wasn’t some trick on her part in their exchange.

Leon, being reasonable, nodded. "The handwriting is unmistakably my master's. As for the content…"

Leon shut his eyes and slowly exhaled.

Seeing this, Roswitha pondered whether she should try to console him, perhaps saying something along the lines of, "Maybe your master has aged and isn't good at expressing his emotions..."

But before she could speak, Leon earnestly said,

"Anyone else, after two years of not seeing their apprentice, upon finally having the chance to write a letter for reassurance, might jot down just one brief sentence, and it would seem strange. But… if it's my master, it totally checks out."

Roswitha facepalmed silently.

Ah, of course—like master, like apprentice.

No wonder his master had once said, "As long as he sees the letter, he'll know I'm safe."

"That said…"

Roswitha put her hands down and looked at Leon, "That said?"

Leon lowered his gaze to the letter on the desk and stared intently at the last two words,

"I don’t quite understand why my master wrote 'don't worry.'"

Pulling over a nearby chair, Leon sat down, aligning his sightline with Roswitha's. Across the desk, their eyes met.

"He's just a farmer now, but before retirement, he was a Dragon Slayer of the Empire. He says he didn’t achieve any great feats and merely retired when the time came. But even so, would such a man really need to tell his apprentice, who hasn’t heard from him in two years, 'don't worry'?"

Leon mused aloud, as if also consulting with Roswitha, "Does this mean… he doesn’t want me to go back?"

Roswitha fell into thought.

Tagger had indeed once instructed her not to let Leon return to the Empire within a year, no matter what.

When she had asked why, he wouldn’t divulge any further.

For Roswitha, this request wasn't much of a burden since she hadn't planned on letting Leon go back anyway.

But was it really necessary to emphasize it again in a letter, as a kind of hint to discourage Leon from returning?

Faint suspicions arose in Roswitha's mind—perhaps that enigmatic, former Dragon Slayer was preparing to get involved in something significant.

But she couldn’t casually share such speculations with Leon, as they were merely her own guesses.

Thus, regarding the phrase "don't worry," Roswitha offered an alternative interpretation.

"Maybe your master… thinks you're not up to snuff."

Leon froze, his brows furrowing. "Thinks I'm lacking? In what way am I lacking?"

He straightened his posture, slapping a hand on the desk as he rattled off his past glories,

"Before I came here, I dominated the Empire's dragon-slaying leaderboards, maintaining an unbroken first place with a staggering lead over the second. Even if I gave them two years, they couldn't surpass me."

"Also, I hold all the Dragon Slayer Academy's physical assessment records."

"Whether during my reserve period or active duty, I won every Empire trial and competition I participated in, bringing home medals and commendations like there was no tomorrow!"

Roswitha folded her hands, resting her chin atop them while patiently listening to Leon's litany of championship titles. When he finished, she slowly replied,

"And? Which one of those titles includes 'Captured by the Enemy for Over Two Years Without Returning'?"

"..."

"You could argue 'Capture Champion' or 'Best at Submitting Homework' instead."

Now that the balance had returned to their banter, Roswitha resumed her sharp-tongued demeanor. "Even your master must think you’re subpar. Heck, I think you’re awful too."

Leon flushed with embarrassment. "How—how dare you say I'm subpar? Haven't these past half-month's lessons been enough for you?"

Roswitha shrugged nonchalantly. "And what does that prove? Don't forget, the last time we sparred, I beat you."

*Smack!*

Leon slapped the desk. "Put on your gear; let's head outside for a rematch right now."

Oh dear. Temper, temper.

Roswitha observed Leon’s agitated expression with satisfaction, then leaned leisurely against her chair with her arms folded and an air of complete composure.

"Pass. As things stand, I have a one hundred percent win rate against you—you’ve never beat me, and that says enough."

"Roswitha!"

"Calm down, Dragon Slayer. It's *your master* who thinks you’re lacking."

Roswitha paused briefly and added, "Anyway, I'm absolutely not letting you return. My dear captive."