The silver dragon soared across the horizon, sweeping past mountains and rivers, leaving human lands behind, and returning to the realm of dragons.

Leon lay on Roswitha’s back, listened to the wind whistling past his ears, and felt the rhythm of the dragon’s wings beating.

He reached out quietly and lightly stroked the dragon’s back beneath him with his palm.

The scales were cold to the touch, yet surprisingly comfortable.

Leon slowly closed his eyes. At this very moment, countless questions were swirling in his mind, ones he wanted to ask Roswitha. But he knew that now was not the right time.

Throughout the journey, Roswitha didn't say a word to him—just silently flying, as she did a few days ago when she brought Leon home. The pair remained quiet then, too.

However, their silence used to signify awkwardness and embarrassment—a result of the pressures imposed on them by those uninformed outsiders.

But this time, it felt different.

It was as though some issue they'd long avoided and denied had inadvertently arrived at a resolution—unexpected, yet reasonable.

While they still didn't want to confront the answer to this issue directly, their lack of confrontation previously stemmed from unwillingness, whereas now it was out of fear.

The strongest human and the queen of silver dragons also had things they feared to confront. Admittedly, it was embarrassing enough to disclose.

Two hours later, Leon felt Roswitha gradually slowing down and descending to a lower altitude.

He sat up and looked below.

Although Silver Dragon Castle was visible, it was still quite far away. If Roswitha slowed down here, they wouldn't make it to the sanctuary.

Before Leon could ask what she was doing, Roswitha had already landed gently on the ground.

As she lowered her massive dragon form, Leon agilely leaped off her back.

Then Roswitha transformed into her human form.

She was still wearing the dress she had worn when she sent Leon away, though its hemline now bore traces of dirt and mud.

Her beautiful face also looked somewhat fatigued and weary.

She said she had never left—meaning all these days... she had been waiting for him in that forest? Leon pondered.

Roswitha remained silent. She walked to a bush nearby, sat down, flicked her finger, and conjured a small Dragon Flame to ignite the dry wood before her.

The campfire flared to life, illuminating her exquisite but weary features.

"After all that rain, come warm yourself up," she said.

"Oh... okay."

Leon approached and sat on a branch beside her—keeping a respectful distance.

Roswitha’s expression didn’t change much as she glanced at Leon and then at the empty space beside herself.

Everything was said without words.

Leon quickly got up, hunched over, and scooted closer to her in tiny steps.

The two sat shoulder-to-shoulder, and the warmth of the fire drove away the chill from their bodies—it was cozy and comfortable.

The wood popped and crackled softly, and Roswitha rested her cheek on her palm, gazing silently at the fire. The flames danced in her silver eyes, making her pupils look like precious gemstones.

Leon pressed his lips together, hesitated slightly, but eventually spoke up, "Did you... wait for me there all this time?"

Roswitha nodded. "At first, I decided to wait for three days. If you didn’t come back after three days, I was going to leave, no matter what."

Hearing this, Leon mentally counted the days. "But this time when I went back to the Empire... it’s been four or five days, hasn’t it?"

"Yes. I waited an extra two days for you."

Leon’s pupils shifted slightly. "Then what if I had delayed a few more days in the Empire—would you..."

"Before I left, I reminded Anna that I might be away with His Grace for a while. I told her not to worry and to take good care of our daughters."

Leon murmured an understanding "Oh."

Indeed, Roswitha’s meticulous and detailed manner of handling things was very characteristic of her.

She wouldn’t simply leave home for such a long time without making arrangements.

However, Roswitha’s response didn’t fully address the underlying focus of his question.

Leon didn’t hear the answer he truly wanted.

But he also couldn’t press her further like an inexperienced, lovestruck youth, asking incessantly.

That would only make him seem immature.

As adults, there were some things that didn’t need to be spelled out too clearly.

Roswitha glanced at him and smiled faintly, her lips curling ever so slightly upward.

As a long-married couple already—Leon’s little thoughts couldn’t escape her notice.

"If you delayed two days, I’ll wait for two days. If you delayed ten days, I’ll wait ten days. If you delayed half a year—"

Leon froze. "You’d wait for half a year?"

"You wish, don’t you?"

Roswitha reached out and pinched Leon's ear. "Who’s worthy enough to make this queen camp out for days just waiting? Waiting so long for you is already fair enough. What do you want—a ‘a stone statue of a waiting wife’?"

The pinching hurt a little. Yet more than the sting—he felt happiness.

Yes, happiness—that simple and straightforward word was the truest description.

And now, Leon thought he finally understood what his mentor once felt.

Back then, the mentor had often been restricted by the "rules" his wife set for him, limiting not only his freedom but even mundane things like requesting permission for a smoke. Despite all that, the mentor would beam daily, claiming that being nagged by his wife was a different kind of happiness, one Leon would understand someday.

Leon didn’t know if "now" was the "someday" his mentor meant, but... let’s take it as that.

When Leon’s ear started turning slightly red, Roswitha thought she’d hurt him and immediately let go.

But after letting go, the queen noticed that it wasn’t just Leon’s ear that had turned red.

"Hmph. Idiot."

Roswitha gently nudged his shoulder. "Take off your top."

"Huh... Huh?! Wha-what for?"

In more open-minded couples, there’s often a "safe word" (a code word to pause encounters during uncomfortable or disagreeable moments).

For this unconventional pair, however, their marriage had evolved without "safe words" over time—giving birth to a whole new category of "initiating words."

Expressions like, "Take it off," "So that’s it?" or "Think I wouldn’t dare?" became signals to mark the start of yet another night’s passionate "turning in homework."

But… this moment wasn’t quite what Leon had imagined.

"Take it off to dry your clothes by the fire. Wearing wet clothes is uncomfortable."

"Oh..."

Leon crossed his arms, gripping the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head.

He stood up, holding his jacket before the campfire to dry it.

"Tsk, did going home scramble your brains?"

Roswitha murmured as she stood, took Leon’s shirt from him, and fetched a branch from behind the bush of appropriate length. She hung his top onto it.

"See? Like this? No sense standing there holding it."

Leon scratched his head. "Hmm... smart idea."

The couple stood next to the fire. Leon, now shirtless, felt the warmth directly embrace his body, melting away all lingering chill.

"Ah, were you injured?"

Roswitha looked at Leon’s waist and abdomen with concern in her gaze.

"What? No… I don’t think so. Where?"

"Here."

Roswitha spoke as she gently reached for Leon’s waist.

The cool softness of her palm brushed against Leon’s abs, and she pressed her body closer.

Her delicate, jade-like fingers lightly massaged his skin, while her other arm stealthily cradled his lower back.

She rested her petite chin against Leon’s shoulder, the soft curves of her chest pressing against his arm, her silver pupils gazing at his profile.

"Oh, I must have mistaken it."

She was very close—so close her body heat replaced that of the fire.

Scheming little dragon.

Leon placed his palm softly against hers, making her touch his abdomen more firmly.

Then he moved his finger along Roswitha’s arm, up her shoulder, collarbone, neck, chin, until finally stopping at her flushed cheek.

Roswitha turned slightly, kissing Leon's palm and wrist, all the while gazing deeply into his eyes.

Those entrancing eyes shimmered with endlessly teasing amusement.

This seductive charm unique to the silver dragon queen was something impossible for anyone to imitate—and she reserved it exclusively for Leon.

Feeling her soft lips against his hand, Leon couldn’t help his heart racing—a spark ignited deep within.

He cradled the back of her head, drawing her closer.

Just as the sun rose from beneath the horizon, their lips touched in perfect synchrony.