They returned to Silver Dragon Castle before dinner.

The moment she heard noise in the courtyard, Muen came trotting out on her little legs and couldn’t wait to cuddle with her sister.

They did this every week and never got tired of it.

Roswitha had explained before that most of the Dragon Clan were only children, so when they did have siblings, they cherished and depended on each other deeply.

Leon thought for a moment and suddenly asked, “Did you do this with Isa when you were little? I can't imagine you hugging your elder sister and begging for kisses.”

Roswitha kicked him.

Back to the main story.

Although Noa didn’t win a definitive prize in this essay contest, everyone knew what they knew—she was still the champion.

Even a “void champion” was still a champion.

And the principal had officially acknowledged it!

So, celebrating was clearly still in order.

At the lavish dinner table, Muen asked for her sister’s essay and read through it several times from start to finish.

Then, shaking the cowlick sticking up on her head, she pointed at the text and asked Noa, “Sister, why does the word ‘sister’ appear so little in your essay? Why! Do you not love Muen anymore?”

Noa didn’t respond and instead stuffed a chicken leg into her little sister’s mouth. “What do you think?”

As the savory flavor of the chicken leg overwhelmed her taste buds and even her jealousy, Muen put down the essay and nodded vigorously, mumbling with her mouth full, “Sister loves Muen! Everything is in the chicken leg!”

Noa ruffled her little sister’s cowlick and then took her essay back, setting it aside.

Dinner was cheerful and filled with laughter.

Afterward, Noa took Muen back to their room.

Having eaten too many chicken legs, Muen sprawled out on the bed like a starfish, slowly digesting.

Meanwhile, Noa quietly pulled out her small wooden box from under the bed.

Seeing the thin layer of dust covering the box, Noa was struck by a thought—she hadn’t placed anything inside it in quite some time.

A child tightly surrounded by love no longer has the extra need to prove that they are loved.

Blowing the dust off the box, Noa opened it.

Inside were the same three items: a fragment of black metal, a slip of paper with her name written on it, and a handmade, simple Rubik’s cube.

She rearranged the items to leave an appropriate space, then carefully placed her essay inside.

Satisfied with her work, Noa locked the wooden box and slid it back under the bed.

Just as she got up, she heard Muen whining, “Sister... Muen’s tummy hurts~”

“You just ate so much and then lay down; of course, you feel uncomfortable.”

Noa grabbed her sister’s wrist. “Come on, let’s go for a walk. A couple of laps, and we’ll come back.”

Muen flailed twice on the bed before sliding down, putting on her shoes, and holding Noa’s hand as they headed to the Castle’s back garden.

Meanwhile, Leon and Roswitha were cleaning up the dinner aftermath.

The familiar division of labor remained: he soaked, and she washed.

Someday, when Leon wrote his autobiography in old age, if someone asked him how he managed to survive being “captured” by the Silver Dragon Queen, he would answer: by washing dishes.

In prison, at least you'd have to use a sewing machine. But being “captured”? You just washed dishes.

Looking at it that way, being captured seemed like the better deal.

Leon shook his head and stopped his aimless musings.

“The pen Noa gave you—is it stored away?” Leon struck up a conversation.

“Mhm. Why, regretting it and want it back?” Roswitha teased.

Leon scoffed lightly. “Do I seem as petty as you? Besides, you heard the girl say herself that she was listening to her daddy when she gave the gift to her mommy.”

Leon leaned closer to Roswitha, smugly repeating, “She was listening to daddy~”

Roswitha flicked some water at his face with her wet hand.

Leon instinctively pulled back, rubbing his face randomly. “See? I wasn’t wrong to say you’re petty.”

Roswitha shot him a glance. “Idiot, keep working.”

“But speaking of gifts...” Leon calculated something in his head. “Isn’t your birthday next Tuesday?”

During their last outing, they had encountered a fortune-teller named Afu. During the first round of astrological readings, Roswitha mentioned that her birthday was October 25th.

Leon wasn’t bringing it up now because he cared all that much about her birthday.

He just wanted to confirm it so that, come her birthday, if the entire Silver Dragon Castle was bustling with celebrations while he, as the queen’s “husband,” remained clueless, it would reflect poorly and harm the credibility of their fake family dynamic.

Roswitha’s thoughts stirred.

Next Tuesday was indeed her birth date.

But it wasn’t really her “birthday.”

The way the Dragon Clan celebrated birthdays was different from humans.

Because their lifespans were so long, celebrating birthdays annually would grow incredibly dull after a few hundred or thousand times.

For this reason, Dragon Clan members celebrated annually only until they reached adulthood; after that, birthdays were observed once every ten years.

As a side note, the Dragon Clan didn’t consider someone an adult until twenty years old—not eighteen, as humans did.

By twenty, a Dragon Clan member possessed adequate physical conditioning, logical thinking skills, and magical proficiency to begin their long life journey.

Roswitha did a little mental calculation. She would be 218 on Tuesday, meaning her next birthday celebration was still two years away.

She glanced at Leon. She had no intention of explaining the ten-year birthday rule to him.

Because… she wanted to mess with him.

“Yes, it’s my birthday. Why? Are you planning to give me a present?” Roswitha asked.

“I’ll give you the gift of distance—send you far away. How about that?”

“Tch, lousy man. If you’re not going to give me a gift, don’t even bring it up.” Roswitha pouted.

Leon shrugged, indifferent.

After all, there was no precedent for a captive giving a conqueror a birthday present, right?

“But if no gift... well, shouldn’t you at least do something else to mark the occasion?” Roswitha continued.

Leon blinked. “Something else? Like what?”

Roswitha pretended to think deeply, and suddenly her eyes lit up. “You could... organize my birthday celebration this year!”

Leon froze, pointing to himself. “Me?”

Roswitha nodded.

“You’ve got so many people in Silver Dragon Castle, and you’re the queen. Surely there’s a line of folks eager to celebrate your birthday. Why would you need me to organize it?”

He resisted.

This reaction showed he found organizing a birthday celebration troublesome and uncomfortable.

Perfect. If he’s uncomfortable, that makes me happy.

The Silver Dragon Queen silently concluded.

“Of course I need you,” Roswitha said, setting down the plate in her hand. Placing her hands on her hips, she turned to face Leon.

“Last year, you were still unconscious, and the children were young, crying and clamoring for their daddy to wake up. My birthday wasn’t enjoyable at all. Now that you’re awake, shouldn’t you make it up to us?”

“Hey, you—”

Roswitha cut off Leon’s rebuttal mid-sentence. She spoke resolutely, “Furthermore, to put it nicely, as the husband in this model family, celebrating your wife’s birthday is totally appropriate, isn’t it? You wouldn’t want people thinking we’re not getting along, would you?”

“...” Leon was silent for a moment, then mulled over her words, catching onto one phrase: to put it nicely.

Curious, he asked, “And to put it not so nicely?”

“To put it not so nicely, what right does a captive have to negotiate with me? You’ll do as I say and that’s final.”

Ah, now this sounded more like it.

Leon had wondered why her previous little speech sounded so pitiful and uncharacteristic of Roswitha.

But this—these last words—this was the tone he recognized, the Roswitha he knew.

Seeing Leon’s expression, Roswitha felt deeply satisfied.

After several days of tranquility, she now had the chance to mess with him again.

Leon sighed, nodding. “Alright, I’ll make it up to you.”

If Roswitha hadn’t mentioned the daughters just now, Leon might not have agreed so readily.

But since she brought them up, Leon had to think about their feelings, even if not hers.

Just recently, Noa had written in her essay about her parents’ deep love for each other, expressing her belief that they were a true couple.

How could Leon bear to disappoint his daughters?

But! Avoiding disappointment was one thing. Whether he would obediently follow Roswitha’s wishes and smoothly handle her birthday was another matter altogether.

He turned to her and said, “Fine, I’ll throw you a human-style birthday celebration. I’m pretty good at that.”

Roswitha shrugged. “Sure, be my guest. But if I’m not satisfied in the end... you’ll need to give me some other kind of explanation. Understand?”

Leon chuckled and raised his hand. “I guarantee you’ll be satisfied.”

Roswitha looked at his outstretched hand and, without much hesitation, extended hers to meet his, palm to palm.

And with that, the deal was struck.