Speaking of "meeting the parents"-- this isn't exactly an easy matter for 'Xiao Luo' and her brother-in-law.

The family background of the Melkevi sisters was somewhat unusual. Having been brought to adulthood by their grandmother who single-handedly raised them, the sisters had never seen their parents since childhood. After seeing them grown, their grandmother would routinely lose contact for decades at a time, claiming she wanted to travel the world. She didn't even return for Roswitha's wedding to meet her granddaughter's husband.

She didn’t even return for Roswitha's wedding to meet her granddaughter’s husband.

As for the brother-in-law’s background, Isa didn’t know much. Xiao Luo had told her that he came from a disbanded minor tribe and had essentially joined her Silver Dragon Clan via marriage.

Isa was skeptical about her sister’s version of events.

After all, the Crimson Flame Dragon King Constantine was brought down by this supposedly harmless brother-in-law of hers.

Someone with the strength to defeat Constantine would hardly be reduced to the state of having his tribe disbanded, relying on another clan’s protection just to survive, would they?

Perhaps his marriage to Xiao Luo was to evade pursuers?

Or maybe the two of them had struck some kind of deal?

Isa had pondered this question more than once, but Xiao Luo insisted that Leon was someone she trusted and depended on.

As for the reasons behind this trust, Xiao Luo didn’t elaborate.

What could Isa, as her elder sister, do about it?

Of course, she chose to believe her little sister.

Pulling her wandering thoughts back, Isa focused on her sister.

“Well, I’ve passed the message along. Grandmother didn’t specify a return date, but she’ll be back within a stretch of time. I need to start preparing now to avoid being caught off guard when she shows up.”

Roswitha nodded. “Yeah, me too.”

“Alright, that settles it. If there’s nothing else…”

Isa stood up, letting out a long breath. She then glanced at Leon, who was busy tending to the baby nearby. “Finally, I can spend time with my little niece~”

Leon also stood and handed Aurora over to Isa.

“Leon, come help me prepare dinner,” Roswitha said.

“Alright.”

Leon leaned down to pat Muen’s little head. “Mommy and daddy are going to make dinner now. You be a good girl and listen to Aunt Isa, okay?”

The little dragon girl nodded obediently. “Okay, Muen knows!”

Leon smiled, walking over to Roswitha’s side. The couple left the nursery, one following the other.

Closing the door behind them, the two walked side by side down the hallway.

Dinner was already being prepared by the maids; this was just an excuse for them to have a private chat.

They understood each other well enough for quiet coordination like this.

“Does your grandmother really only come back every few decades?” Leon asked.

“Mm-hmm.”

“That long? Aren’t you worried about the family growing distant?”

Roswitha shook her head. “Dragon Clans have long lifespans; a few decades isn’t a big deal. Besides, most Dragons don’t place much importance on familial bonds.”

Leon blinked. “So, your grandmother is one of those types who don’t care much about family?”

The queen shrugged. “Judging by the way she seldom comes home, you could say she doesn’t care much about family overall. But my sister and I still felt her love and concern when we were young.”

As they talked, the couple arrived in the sanctuary’s backyard, strolling leisurely along the shaded path.

“Wise beings are always complex. You can’t judge them based on a single aspect of their behavior,” Roswitha said. “Take how Dragon Clans are perceived by outsiders—violent, ruthless, obsessed with strength, and indifferent to bonds and feelings.”

“But after living with me for so long, surely you’ve noticed: while Dragon Clans rarely care about emotions, once they form a bond with someone, they are unwaveringly loyal—devoted to the core.”

“This isn’t exclusive to marital relationships—it applies to familial bonds and friendships too.”

“Take that newlywed couple we ran into while vacationing at the Floating Cloud Valley—they had a great marital relationship.”

“And then—”

Roswitha’s flow of words came to an abrupt halt.

She suddenly paused in her steps, her gaze toward Leon shifting subtly.

Two seconds of eye contact passed before Roswitha turned her head away, quickening her pace as if to cover up her actions.

“Ahem, you get my point,” Roswitha said, realizing that continuing might become too ambiguous. She abruptly changed the subject.

Leon looked puzzled. “I don’t get it. Weren’t you about to say something important? How am I supposed to understand if you cut yourself off?”

He genuinely hadn’t grasped what she was trying to express.

The earlier part about not judging a sentient being by a single dimension—that he understood completely.

After all, he’d mentioned the same principle when helping Muen, the baby dragon, develop her cognitive abilities.

Back then, the little dragon lectured him, saying: “If everything has two sides, then just as there are fierce and warlike Dragons, there must also be Dragons who yearn for peace.”

Leon had remembered her words ever since. Choosing neither to affirm nor deny them, he decided instead to observe and experience things firsthand to reach his own conclusion.

Now, Roswitha was talking about unwavering devotion, loyalty in relationships, etc.—which Leon found quite thoughtful.

But just as they reached the crux of her point, the dragon queen halted the discussion.

It was like getting to the climax of a novel, only for the author to hit you with: “To be continued, next chapter.”

How could anyone not feel impatient?

Yet Roswitha interpreted Leon’s curiosity as mocking her.

This infuriating man.

Surely he must have caught on to what she was about to say? Surely he knew how difficult it was for her to bring up their ambiguously romantic situation?

And yet, he insisted on pretending ignorance!

Was this amusing to him?

*Amusing?*

The queen let out a cold snort, crossed her arms, and flicked her tail twice in an irritable manner before striding ahead, leaving Leon in her dust.

Leon was left bewildered. A breeze passed by, carrying a few fallen leaves past his feet.

“Wait, what—how did things turn sour all of a sudden?”

Ah, a woman’s mind—a mystery as deep as the ocean.

Even after living together for over a year, Leon still struggled to figure out what Roswitha was thinking.

Her temper and peculiar moods showed up more and more frequently these days.

When discussing serious matters, her emotions were stable; she always maintained her royal poise and elegance.

But when talking about mundane everyday life, she would turn into a walking, talking pufferfish—ready to angrily puff up over God-knows-what.

Leon had faced countless battles and challenges, none of which ever left him feeling truly defeated.

Roswitha was his first.

Yet this enemy—he couldn’t fight her, nor criticize her—mostly because he just couldn’t bear to.

So, what could Leon do?

Just put up with it, of course—what else? Divorce wasn’t exactly an option, was it?

“Hey, wait for me!”

Leon quickened his pace, chasing after Roswitha.

Though Roswitha didn’t respond or look back, she noticeably slowed her steps.

Leon caught up and walked alongside her, glancing at her puffed-up expression sulking to the side. He opened his mouth, but was unsure where to begin.

Roswitha glanced at him sideways, let out a light snort, then asked:

“That human girl back in the cave—what did she call you?”

Leon thought for a moment before realizing Roswitha was referring to Rebecca.

“Uh… Captain, I think.”

“No, another title.”

Roswitha stared at him, enunciating each word slowly: “Dumb Straight Guy.”

Indeed, the universe is fair to all.

On the battlefield, strategizing against traitors, parenting a baby dragon, handling unconventional tasks—Leon excelled at it all.

Except for pacifying his wife.

But don’t rush to pity him.

The renowned commander *believed* he wasn’t good at wife-pacifying for justifiable reasons.

“Damn it, they didn’t teach this stuff at the Dragon-Slaying Academy!”

Conclusion: Leon “Cosmod” is a rigid product of traditional, test-focused education—tragic, really.