A certain dragon-slaying hero was the epitome of someone who yielded to softness but not hardness. After acting as a fake couple for so long, how could Roswitha not understand him?

After their heart-to-heart talk, the idiot straight man's expression softened a bit—at least it wasn’t as dark as before, as if someone owed him eight hundred dragon lives.

He stowed the list away, exhaling a breath of relief, then said,

"Thanks."

Leon thought that the always magnanimous queen would respond with a simple "You're welcome."

But unexpectedly—

“A verbal thanks is all you’ve got?” The beauty smirked mischievously, tilting her gaze toward him.

Her look made it obvious that Leon’s way of expressing gratitude wasn’t quite enough.

Leon shrugged, unfazed.

Right now, he wasn’t afraid of "turning in homework" at all.

Ever since opening the first gate of the Nine Hells, his physical condition had been nothing short of reborn.

It didn’t matter if this dragoness wanted "turning in homework" or playful mischief; General Lai could handle it with ease.

“Name your price—I'm game.”

As he spoke, Leon edged closer to Roswitha.

The silver-haired beauty, her eyes half-lidded and filled with allure, noticed his subtle movements.

Hmph, males are all the same—throw them a little bait, and they’ll take it. And what happened to all that "I'd rather die than yield" resolve, Dragon Slayer~

Roswitha watched as Leon slowly closed the distance between them, her gaze trailing from his waistline upwards until stopping at his chiseled, handsome face just as he pulled her into his arms.

She leaned her upper body slightly backward, pressing her soft abdomen against Leon. Because of their fullness, her supple chest lightly grazed his as she reclined.

Roswitha struck a teasingly reserved pose, a trademark mischievous smile playing on her lips.

She made no move to take the initiative; she simply used her naturally seductive gaze to lure her captive into taking the bait.

Meanwhile, Leon thought, I’ve already made the move to hug you, so isn’t it your turn now to do something proactive?

Glaring. Smiling. Why are you staring? And why are you smiling at me like that?

Hurry up and kiss me already!

The couple embraced under the starlit balcony, their gazes locked, but neither made the first move.

Leon’s eyes subtly dropped, eventually settling on the red lips of the beauty in his arms.

Involuntarily, he swallowed. Those lips—just looking at them was enough to evoke memories of their every entanglement.

Exquisite, intoxicating.

As if sensing that this foolish man was drooling while staring at her lips, Roswitha played coy, slightly parting her mouth.

Leon thought—for sure, this time, she was about to kiss him.

But unfortunately, no.

She only bit her lower lip, causing its softness to yield slightly under her white teeth, like a rose petal being gently ravaged.

Leon didn’t dare to watch further. Restraining himself, he met her eyes again.

At this moment, her gaze was filled with “provocation.”

It seemed to be saying, "Come on, kiss me. Don't you want to?"

Eyes that convey meaning without words are the most irresistible. Her silver irises were a mire, ensnaring Leon deeper and deeper.

The wind that night was rather unruly—enough to stir hearts.

Finally, he could no longer suppress the impulse in his chest and slowly leaned in to kiss her.

The queen did not resist, nor did she respond. She merely waited for her captive to offer up his kiss for the evening.

But just as Leon caught the distinctive fragrance of her lips, Roswitha suddenly raised a finger, pressing it against his mouth.

She stopped him, right at the last moment.

Smiling slyly like a fox whose trap had succeeded, she said, “You take my counseling session and now want a kiss? Do you expect all good things to fall into your lap?”

“Psh... as if I care.”

General Lai backed off from his attempt at a kiss and let go of his fake wife.

Roswitha chuckled softly, tidying her hair. Only after her slightly flushed cheeks cooled did she add,

"You’re the captive, I’m the queen. I only allow you to kiss me when I say so. Got it?"

"A moment ago, you were still calling yourself my wife. Now you're the queen? You Melkevi clan dragonesses change faces faster than flipping a book."

"Wrong. All women under the heavens are quick to change their moods. Especially married ones."

“Hah, hilarious. Good one, ‘Married Woman Roswitha.’”

Leon paused, seemingly catching a critical point in her statement. He asked, “Wait, are you admitting that you are—”

“Admitting what? I haven’t admitted to anything.”

Roswitha turned, flicking her tail as she folded her arms behind her back. Hooking her right index finger around her left, she exited the balcony, walking slowly in her dragon-wing slippers. Without looking back, she said lazily,

“Until you can’t hold back and confess to me, don’t expect me to admit to anything.”

Ah, so that’s it.

Miss Silver Dragon wants me to confess 2.0.

This wasn’t the first time Roswitha hinted at wanting a love confession from Leon.

Back when she had just retrieved him from the Empire, she mentioned it once in passing.

At the time, Leon had honestly thought it was merely a jest.

After all, while they were married, had a child, met each other’s families, and seemed lovey-dovey in public, even their “homework submissions” were harmonious—

But speaking of a confession? That felt overly ambiguous.

Yet afterward, the more Leon thought about it, the more it gnawed at him.

Even if she had meant it as a joke, she wasn’t the type to make light of something as serious as a confession.

Perhaps her mentioning "Miss Silver Dragon Wants Me to Confess" wasn’t entirely in jest. Half-truths are often the hardest to decipher.

Who could tell what Roswitha was really thinking?

And now, she’d brought it up again...

Leon truly couldn’t figure out her intentions.

Did she want to give their fake relationship a genuine title?

Or was it something else entirely?

He wasn’t ready to decide whether or not to "confess" yet, either.

This wasn’t about success or failure—their relationship was too unique for that.

For most couples, a confession yielded one of two outcomes:

Success? A kiss.

Failure? A slap.

But for Leon and Roswitha, beyond success or failure lay innumerable other possibilities.

What’s more... Leon was currently the Empire's most-wanted fugitive.

Even in the one-in-a-million chance that he and Roswitha did “seal the deal,” what if something happened to him afterward? Wouldn't the dragoness end up widowed?

And knowing Dragon Clan’s pure-love champion Roswitha, she’d probably end up being a widow for centuries.

So... how does that old saying go—

How can one consider romance when the kingdom is in turmoil?

Leon sighed quietly, turning back to the balcony to gaze into the starry night.

Though his mood had somewhat improved thanks to Roswitha’s brief counseling, a new set of problems now took its place.

How was he supposed to deal with the relationship between him and Roswitha moving forward—

“Hey! Why are you still pretending to brood? I thought you’d come over by now.”

Behind him came Roswitha’s voice.

Leon turned to see her kneeling by the bed, leaning forward slightly, her little head craning toward the balcony.

“It’s late. Let’s go to bed and wake up early tomorrow, alright? If you stop overthinking and come sleep like a good boy now, Her Majesty will reward you with the goodnight kiss you’ve been dreaming of. How about it?”

“...That’s not my dream reward at all. So childish.”

“Okay, fine. I’m childish. But can we go to sleep now? I’ve got work tomorrow morning.”

Leon: "Say please."

Roswitha: "Please."

Leon: "Saying please won’t work. Heh."

“Fine, go die out there then. Don’t bother coming to bed.”

Roswitha stormed off the bed in a huff, shutting the balcony door behind her.

And locking it.

Leon panicked and rushed over, pounding on the glass.

“Hey, hey! Are you serious right now?”

Separated by just a door, the couple stood on opposite sides.

Inside the warm bedroom, Roswitha stood barefoot, hands on her hips, tilting her head smugly.

“Great Dragon Slayer, since you refuse to sleep in Her Majesty’s bed, why don’t you lie under the stars and moon for a night? Truly a primal experience, don’t you think?”

“Dragoness! Open the door!”

Roswitha laughed. “Say please.”

Leon: "Please."

Roswitha: "Saying please won’t work. Heh."

Leon: ?

Damn.

She's pulling an Izanami on me.