Roswitha’s pregnancy had yet to be shared with Anna and the others.

After all, it had been less than two months since she conceived.

If the Dragon Clan chose to reproduce through live birth, their pregnancy duration would mirror that of humans, lasting roughly ten months.

With the baby bump typically showing around the fourth month, Roswitha decided to wait a bit before informing her inner circle about the news.

Announcing it too early might distract them from their duties of serving His Majesty, which could inadvertently disrupt the normal operations of Silver Dragon Castle.

As everyone knew, the Silver Dragon Queen was a workaholic, a trait that would not change even during pregnancy.

Besides, during the early stages of pregnancy, working at her usual pace would not negatively affect the baby.

The couple did, however, plan to tell their two daughters a few days later when Noa returned home for her school break, that they would soon have a new brother or sister.

Even though the two girls were still children themselves, they had the right to know that a new family member was on the way.

...

A few nights later, deep into the night, Leon lay on a bed in the nursery, his hands behind his head, staring straight at the ceiling.

Three books lay on his bedside table:

“What to Expect When You're Expecting,”

“What Nutrition Does Your Dragon Need During Pregnancy?” and "Prenatal Tips: How to Ensure Your Dragon Baby Gets a Head Start".

After reading the first two books, Leon had picked up some tips about caring for a pregnant woman.

Of course, all of that was for the middle stage of pregnancy anyway, and since Roswitha was just under two months along, it was far too early to put them into practice.

The last book, however, provided Leon with ideas he could act on immediately.

After confirming Roswitha’s pregnancy a few days ago, the couple had started debating whether Noa and Muen resembled their father or their mother more.

To be precise, their debate wasn’t so much whether the children looked like their dad or mom but whether they resembled humans or the Dragon Clan.

After all, both parents had a strong sense of pride in their respective races.

After a lively back-and-forth, Roswitha easily disarmed Leon by saying, “They both have tails.”

And it was true.

The two little dragon girls were only a little over a year old. Even with Noa being relatively advanced for her age, their mental development was still immature, making it hard to discern whether they leaned more toward humans or the Dragon Clan from a psychological standpoint.

For now, all they could do was argue over appearances.

And the verdict? Leon lost, utterly.

As Leon prepared to exit that heated discussion, Roswitha delivered a parting shot:

“They'll grow dragon horns when they come of age, you excited?”

Leon muttered to himself: Excited my ass ==

Despite leaving the argument defeated, Leon refused to admit complete defeat.

While his daughters exhibited more Dragon Clan traits than human ones, Noa’s elemental affinity was the same as his, proving that human genes could hold their own against Dragon Clan genes.

What’s more, Leon had been unconscious during Roswitha’s first pregnancy and hadn’t been involved at all.

If Dragon Clan prenatal care had influenced the first children to strongly favor Dragon traits, it wasn’t surprising.

But now Leon was awake, alert, and ready.

He was determined to make his mark on this pregnancy.

In the grand scheme of things, his efforts were a father’s way of asserting his sense of belonging in the family dynamic.

On a larger scale, this was a critical battle to prove that human genetics were stronger and superior to those of the Dragon Clan!

As they say, “One small step for Leon, one giant leap for mankind.”

Leon felt an almost overwhelming sense of duty, as if the future of the human race rested squarely on his shoulders.

In the first round, his two daughters had come out looking more like dragons, costing Leon the championship title.

Now, however, Leon was ready to seize victory in the second round of the game.

Victory or bust!

Sitting up, Leon glanced at the clock on the wall—it was a little past 3 a.m. His wife, the mighty dragon, must’ve already gone to sleep.

Leon was a man of action. Having resolved to go all-in during this second pregnancy season, he figured there was no time like the present to get started.

Leon had been busy these past few days, carefully drafting his “How to Make the Second Baby Look More Like a Human” plan—shortened to the “Second Baby Plan.”

Step one of the plan? Prenatal education!

By exposing the baby in Roswitha’s belly to the finer points of human culture, perhaps it would influence the baby to lean more toward being human after birth.

With that goal in mind, Leon sprung into action. Getting out of bed, he rummaged through the room for tools he had prepared for prenatal education.

Once ready, he planned to sneak off to Roswitha’s room.

But as he reached the door, Leon hesitated.

“The dragoness always locks her door when she sleeps. Guess I’ll climb over the balcony instead.”

Since his room and Roswitha’s were next to each other, he could slip in via the adjacent balconies.

So, in the dead of night, our suited-up father Leon climbed quietly across the balcony to his wife’s room—all in the name of winning the genetic championship for humanity.

He really was relentless.

Under the moonlit sky, with stars twinkling faintly, it was the perfect time for a stealth operation.

With ease, Leon climbed onto Roswitha’s balcony, gently opened the sliding door, and slipped into the queen dragon’s chambers.

Sprawled elegantly across the wide, soft bed, the queen slept soundly. Her slender, alabaster arm draped over the edge of the comforter, her head slightly tilted while her silver hair cascaded down her face, strands spilling like moonlight. A little braid near her temple had come loose in the night.

Her breathing was even, her peaceful sleeping face an almost sacred picture of tranquility.

Leon quietly seated himself at the edge of Roswitha’s bed.

But he held off on starting his Second Baby Plan right away. He needed to ensure Roswitha had entered a deep sleep.

“Hey, Roswitha, wake up. It’s urgent,” Leon whispered softly.

Roswitha didn’t stir.

“Good, the pregnant queen sleeps soundly,” Leon muttered.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the tool he’d prepared earlier — a Recording Stone.

It wasn’t a particularly rare item. Leon had found a shop selling them while casually exploring a Dragon Clan village the day before.

He had intended to pay for it, but the shopkeeper warmly declared, “It would be an honor for Your Highness to own something from my humble shop. Please take it as a gift!”

Leon had replied, “Fine, fine, I’ll speak highly of you to Her Majesty later and maybe ask her to endorse your shop as repayment.”

The reason Leon got a Recording Stone was to record... a special collection of prenatal education stories.

Setting the Recording Stone down carefully, making sure not to disturb Roswitha’s sleep, Leon activated the device.

“Once upon a time, in the far reaches of the western continent, a wise and courageous race emerged. They called themselves ‘humans,’” a narration began to play.

Leon had found an ancient history text in Roswitha’s private library.

Of course, since it was authored by dragons, the text didn’t exactly portray humans as a wise and courageous species.

Leon had taken necessary liberties, revising and “embellishing” it before recording.

“Humans are a great race, a heroic race!” the narration proclaimed.

“They are resilient, indomitable, and always fight for a brighter tomorrow!”

At this point, Leon paused the recording to speak directly to Roswitha’s belly:

“Did you hear that, little one? Humans are the greatest species in the whole world. Dragon Clan glory? Entirely overblown. Back in my day, I could cut them down one by one like slicing vegetables. So, you’d better lean more toward humanity, okay?”

Resuming the Recording Stone’s playback, Leon leaned back, satisfied.

When the first story ended, he tucked the Recording Stone away and solemnly addressed Roswitha’s yet-unborn baby:

“Sweetheart, now that you know where humans come from, let’s move on to something lighter. How about a poem recital? This one’s called ‘The Greatness of Humanity Requires No Justification.’”

Since Leon couldn’t exactly find someone in the Silver Dragon Clan willing to declare humanity’s greatness—doing so would essentially make them a traitor—he had no choice but to perform the poem himself.

Clearing his throat, Leon straightened up, his expression serious as he began to recite passionately to Roswitha’s belly:

“Oh, humanity, how truly great you are!

The radiant sun climbs above the eastern horizon, its light awakening the steadfast and courageous humans!”

“Behold their unity as they face challenges together, a testament to their selflessness and devotion!”

“...”

“When friends arrive, we greet them with feasts; when evil dragons appear, we face them brandishing swords.”

“Every vile Dragon King will one day fall to humanity’s might.”

“Oh, the greatness of humanity requires no justification!”

(Second Baby’s inner monologue: “Please stop, Dad. Isn’t this a bit... avant-garde for someone at my current developmental stage?”)