Afterward, the "lifeguard" was angry.

He sat on the sofa in the hotel, hands on hips, silently brooding.

Before the silence fell, Mr. Cosmord had angrily denounced the behavior as immoral—a profanation of his sincere intentions, an act of childishness far beneath the dignity of a normal two-hundred-plus-year-old mother dragon.

Miss Melkevi, knowing she was in the wrong, had listened intently to his lecture.

After finishing, Leon plunged into his silence.

Roswitha guessed that he was probably, maybe, more or less, ninety percent upset, as she’d honestly never seen Leon truly angry with her before.

Thinking back to when she was pregnant—her emotions unstable—Leon had always patiently soothed her. Even when she occasionally threw little tantrums, he accepted them without complaint, never adding fuel to the fire.

So... the Silver Dragon Queen decided to try something she had never done before in her life: to cheer up a man.

She walked over to the sofa and stood before the silent Leon.

Leon glanced up at her briefly, only to quickly avert his gaze, refusing to engage with her.

"You..."

The queen opened her mouth, and though she had plenty of sweet, ingratiating words prepared to coax him into a good mood, she found that they simply wouldn’t leave her lips. It was as if some invisible force was suppressing her.

After some deliberation, Roswitha finally squeezed out a sentence:

"You… cheer up, please."

Leon: ?

Whether or not the words succeeded in making Leon feel better was unclear, but they certainly came close to making General Lai burst out laughing in irritation.

"And what exactly are you doing?" Leon asked.

Roswitha waved her arms. "Isn’t it obvious?"

"Obvious about what?"

"I’m trying to cheer you up," she replied.

"......"

Leon closed his eyes, massaging his brow as he sighed deeply. He thought: Her Majesty the Queen, if you don’t know how to cheer someone up, then don’t try. Don’t turn comforting others into embarrassing yourself.

“Are you happy now?” Roswitha asked earnestly.

Leon looked at her again—this time using his fingers to manually lift the corners of his lips into an awkward smile. “Happy. Very happy.”

“But I feel like you’re lying.”

“Wow, Your Majesty, you’re so clever.”

“Well, since I’m so clever, why not stop being angry with me?”

“......”

At that moment, Leon suddenly achieved a realization. Rebecca always called him a clueless straight man, and perhaps she wasn’t entirely wrong.

He had lived for twenty-three years without grasping the intricacies of women’s thought patterns, and now he was utterly bewildered by the mindset of a mother dragon.

Perhaps every female creature on this planet practiced "impeccable but irrefutable logic" in the womb before birth.

For instance:

"I accept your gift does not equal I’m agreeing to a relationship."

Or,

"I have children with you ≠ I intend to confess my love."

While the first scenario hadn’t happened between Leon and Roswitha, it was not uncommon among young people.

As for the second scenario, though Leon couldn’t completely agree with it, it still fit with the dragoness’ impeccable, irrefutable logic, didn’t it?

Take her reasoning now: "I’m so clever, why not stop being angry with me?"

It seemed nonsensical (and frankly it was), but to Roswitha, there was apparently a shard of meaning embedded within it.

Leon scratched his forehead, spread his hands, and said, “Even if our daughters act up, I can deal with that, but why are you joining their antics?”

“Wh-what did I even do? All I did was pretend to faint.”

“This isn’t just about pretending or not pretending to faint. It’s about trust between individuals.”

The beauty’s eyes moved slightly; she responded, “Well, I’m not human.”

“?”

“I’m a dragon.”

“......”

In just a few short exchanges, Roswitha had silenced Leon three times.

If she added an enchanted armor-piercing item, she could directly activate the "silence and defense-breaking" effect on Leon.

However, Leon wasn’t truly angry.

He merely felt like he’d been outplayed by the mother dragon yet again.

Yet instead of mockingly taunting him like before with a “Ha ha, you fell into my trap again; you’re no match for me.” she seemed to feel a faint trace of guilt about her actions.

Leon thought he might seize this rare opportunity to reel in this big fish named Roswitha.

But General Lai might’ve been overthinking things.

When it came to cheering others up, Roswitha was like a silly fish—unable even to nibble at the bait.

She could only coax Leon into eating carrots or eggplants, or into ‘turning in homework’ with her.

Leon now wished that when a child inherited a mother’s demeanor, they also took that demeanor away from her.

That way, Roswitha wouldn’t simultaneously be tormenting his mental state with both cunning and naiveté.

"I say!"

With a loud thump, Roswitha slapped the coffee table.

Leon jumped in surprise, abruptly pulling himself out of his scattered thoughts.

He stared at Roswitha in confusion, wondering why she had suddenly raised her voice.

Hadn't she been timidly trying to cheer him up just moments ago?

Seeing Leon snap back to attention, Roswitha rested her hands on her waist, shook her silver tail, and locked eyes with him:

“Give you a little sunshine, and you think it's time to shine, huh? Can't you just be cheered up already?”

“Mother dragon, is there any chance that I haven’t said more than ten sentences this whole time...”

“I don’t care! You’re definitely just tyou're pushing your luck, Cosmord!”

Ah, women.

Unexpected yet unsurprising.

Leon sprawled on the sofa in resignation, suddenly remembering the advice his mentor had given him before.

The mentor had said: When a woman tries to cheer you up, give her a smile in three sentences or less.

Purehearted Leon had asked why.

The mentor replied: Because if her three sentences fail to cheer you up, you’ll be the one cheering her up next.

But Leon realized that, at this very moment, he probably wouldn’t have the chance to cheer up Roswitha.

She pulled the curtains shut, kicked off her shoes, and turned on the hotel’s mood lighting.

Instantly, the room filled with a romantic orange glow, casting shadows on Roswitha’s snow-white, delicate shoulders, making her skin look luminous and flawless.

Her beautifully annoyed expression inched closer, slowly leaning toward Leon.

Her slender, fair index and middle fingers transformed into ‘little long legs,’ playfully walking along the back of the sofa toward Leon’s neck.

Her facial features were stunning from any angle—a perfectly sculpted face that remained flawless even when expressionless.

But when she sought to seduce her captive into falling under her spell, her face took on an alluring charm that could sweep anyone away.

This time, however, her face wasn’t just alluring; it carried a trace of inexplicable frustration.

The scene reminded Leon of the time he had just woken from a two-year coma when Roswitha had regularly forced him to “be intimate with me” with the same sulking expression.

Yet this time, the seasoned Master Lai was feeling confident—completely unshaken.

He leaned against the sofa, glanced down at Roswitha’s casual slip-dress, then scoffed coldly:

“This doesn’t stir a single feeling in me, mother dragon. With this alone, you’ll never shake a Dragon Slayer’s resolve.”

“Oh? Feeling rather smug, are we?”

“Of course.”

“Then tell me—what if I put on… my newly bought swimsuit?”

Leon blinked and smiled even more smugly. “That full-coverage one-piece swimsuit? Even if it shed a couple of pounds of fabric, my heart wouldn’t so much as stir!”

Roswitha arched her elegant brows. Her soft figure lightly leaned against Leon’s chest. Looking up at him, she smiled wickedly:

“Who said I only bought one swimsuit?”

“Uh—what?”