"Dad, why does your face look even worse now? Is the Black Dragon Bolus ineffective?" Aurora asked worriedly.

Leon was momentarily speechless.

Honey, it's not that the Black Dragon Bolus isn't working — it's working too well, and Daddy can barely handle it right now...

No.

It’s not just me struggling to handle it.

Your mom might be in for a tough time too.

Thinking of this, Leon raised his head to look at Roswitha.

The dragon queen was still enjoying the spectacle, completely unbothered by the chaos. Had she forgotten the havoc caused by the last Black Dragon Bolus incident, when she couldn't even enjoy a moment of peace?

Even Roswitha looked a little confused, unsure whether to laugh or cry.

Good news: their youngest daughter, gifted with the innate Holy Body of Alchemy, could craft Black Dragon Bolus at merely four months old, surpassing ninety-nine point nine percent of adults. This little half-human, half-dragon prodigy was destined to be praised as an unparalleled genius by anyone who saw her.

Bad news: her talent had an unintended consequence—Leon had apparently developed the innate Holy Body of Black Dragon Bolus.

The man, whose life brimmed with brilliance as much as abstraction, wound up with roughly two-thirds of his post-marriage "entertainment value" contributed lovingly by his adorable daughters.

He had thought Muen's sneaking Communion snacks was already the peak of his tribulations, only for Aurora to take it even further and completely knock him flat on the metaphorical beach.

“It’s nothing too serious; the Black Dragon Bolus is an excellent tonic for the Dragon Clan. The effects just haven’t fully kicked in yet,” Roswitha quickly assured everyone, trying to smooth things over. “Dad will sweat a bit tonight, and by morning, he’ll be bouncing with health again, so you don’t need to worry.”

“Really, Mom?” Noa asked.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that Dad’s “Don’t save me, I just want to pass away” expression didn't suggest he'd recover with just a little sweat.

Deep down, Roswitha sighed softly.

She really wasn’t great at lying to her daughters.

Was she supposed to say, *Your dad’s about to go berserk soon, and the scenario might get... mature-themed etc, not safe for young dragons?*

No choice. Roswitha had to brace herself and say,

“Of course it’s true. Trust Mom—once the effects kick in, all Dad needs is a good night's sleep to recover.”

Hearing Roswitha's assurances, the three little ones finally eased their worried hearts a bit.

“Well, Dad, make sure you get a lot of rest tonight~” Muen stood by the bedside, shaking Leon’s wrist affectionately.

Rest?

Sweetheart, Dad probably won’t get *any* rest tonight.

“Uh... sure, Dad knows.”

“All right, it’s late now. You should all head off to bed too. After all, don't you want to play games with Dad when he's all better tomorrow morning?”

Roswitha needed to hurry the young dragon girls off to bed.

That cursed Black Dragon Bolus... once it took full effect, it could be downright terrifying.

“Okay! Goodnight, Mom. Goodnight, Dad! Make sure you rest well!”

“Mm, goodnight...”

The three little ones left the room one by one. Roswitha escorted them to the door and locked it firmly after ensuring they’d gone.

When she returned to the bedroom, Leon was already sitting up, leaning against the headboard.

His face was noticeably redder than before, but his gaze was sharp—crystal-clear even.

No, not *clear.*

It was *driven.* *High.*

The dragon queen felt her legs weaken involuntarily, even her tail instinctively curling a bit.

That night of wild storms during Leon’s *first* Black Dragon Bolus dose was still vivid in her memory.

But back then, it was partly her fault—the taunts she’d flung his way had prodded General Leon to take reckless, bold action. He’d boldly activated the Bolus's intense effects under the mantra: “The ballad of mankind is the ballad of bravery.” What followed was chaos manifest.

This time, however, he had the debuff from a flu—so even with the Bolus’s effects, he shouldn’t go overboard, right?

Roswitha hesitated for a moment before walking toward the bed with measured steps, gently extending her tail toward Leon.

“Here, want to play with it?”

She recalled how he’d grabbed hold of her tail last time during his frenzy, affectionately calling her "wife" nonstop.

This time, the queen decided it was better to proactively comfort him, treating him like a child and calming him down in advance.

Leon rolled his eyes, ready to fire back that she shouldn’t treat him like a kid—but strangely, his mind kept hearing this quiet, incessant whisper:

"Hold it. Hold it. Hold it."

Leon frowned, raising a hand to pat his forehead—trying to chase away what felt like the voice of temptation itself.

It was useless.

"Hold it."

"Hold it."

"Hold it."

With increasing impatience, Leon tutted. Frustrated.

But when he snapped back to awareness, his hand was already clutching the tip of Roswitha's tail.

Cool to the touch. Soft. Smooth. Absolutely incredible.

Leon froze, hastily trying to explain: "Wait—I didn't mean to, it’s just that my body suddenly moved on its own..."

Still denying the obvious.

Roswitha folded her arms, studying the dog-man playfully.

"You’re saying you didn’t mean to while still holding onto my tail? That’s hardly convincing."

Hearing this, Leon tried to let go immediately.

But no matter how hard he tried, his hand seemed glued to Roswitha’s tail—he couldn’t ungrasp it at all.

Besides, this silky-smooth, cool sensation felt extraordinarily comforting for someone burning with fever like he was.

Merely gripping it wasn’t enough to satisfy Leon anymore.

He stared intently at the elegant tail before him, swallowed nervously, and—

Under Roswitha's mildly surprised gaze—lightly pressed the tip of her tail to his scalding forehead.

Then released a soft moan of approval.

The ultimate ice pack: Silver Dragon Brand. Truly worth having.

Roswitha grimaced, unable to hide her contempt-heavy tone: “Should I be relieved you haven’t started gnawing on it yet?”

“Wife...”

There it is.

Once he methodically called her "wife," it signaled the start of his frenzy.

"Your tail feels so cool and soothing."

"Then do you like it?"

"Like it."

"If you like it, just hold onto it. Don’t do anything else, okay?"

"Yes, my dear wife!"

Soothing Leon was as easy as coaxing a preschooler.

Letting him cling to her tail was vastly preferable to letting him get up to anything else.

Even though his body was weakened by illness, there was still the buff from the Nine Hells Gate’s First Form in place—it was unwise to test Leon in this state.

Roswitha feared she’d end up on the receiving end of forty-two-degree molten punishment if she wasn’t careful.

The dragon queen sat down by the bedside.

Leon kept caressing her tail like treasure, pressing it to his face lovingly.

Before long, the fool asked, “Wife, your tail's so fun... why don’t I have one?”

Roswitha snorted. "Every time I suggest installing one for you, you refuse. Now you want one?—Too bad!"

Just because he wanted one didn’t mean she’d give it. Spoiled brat.

Even in his Bolus-induced state, Leon didn’t press the point. Instead, he suddenly grew quiet.

Roswitha wasn’t particularly surprised.

Under the effects of Black Dragon Bolus, his thought process functioned like an overcharged frog. She could never predict which lily pad he'd leap to next.

"Wife."

"What?”

"Love you~" From frenzied straightforwardness.

“Mm. Love you.” From cold indifference.

"Wife, look at me."

“What do I need to look at you for?” Roswitha, arms crossed, kept her gaze forward—unwilling to humor him and glance his way.

"Look at me. Come on, hurry up." Leon urged persistently.

Helplessly, Roswitha finally turned her head slowly towards him.

She watched Leon raise his arm over his head, extending his palm above so his fingertips barely touched.

He shaped a massive heart with his arms—a gesture entirely directed at Roswitha.

“Love you~ Wife~”

Leon would normally rather die than do anything remotely childish or romantic like this for Roswitha.

Seeing this display, Roswitha couldn’t resist chuckling.

But she quickly attempted to mask her laughter, merely snorted, “Tsk, what a childish fool.”

"You should make one too, Wife."

"I won’t."

“C’mon, just one!”

For goodness’ sake.

He was already under the Black Dragon Bolus. Why not just humor him?

Roswitha sighed deeply, closing her eyes as she gave in. Then she mimicked Leon’s gesture—raising her arms, tapping delicate fingers to form a large heart, saying:

“Love you~”

“Not done yet.”

“What else?”

“A title right after your ‘love you.’”

Leon’s behavior resembled that of an oversized Muen—a silly fool, yet one with ridiculously high exacting standards.

Surely their daughters had picked up bits of these peculiar antics, traces of their oddball parents.

What now? Simply indulge him.

Thus, Roswitha matched Leon's motion, sweetness dripping from her tone:

“Love you~ Husband~”

Then promptly reverted to her usual austere demeanor. Her tone chilled, her gaze dull: “Satisfied now?”

Leon nodded in approval. “Satisfied.”

Roswitha shot him an icy glare before standing: “Hand back my tail for now—I need to use the restroom.”

She expected him to obediently release her tail. Instead, he suddenly jerked hard on the tail, pulling her straight back onto the bed.

“Hey! What are you—”

Before she could finish the question, Roswitha’s Dragon Mark glowed faintly on her chest.

“Damn... so it's come to this...”

“Dragon Queen.”

His voice carried heat, merging seamlessly from one word to the next.

Roswitha slowly turned her face toward him.

Leon, now stripped to his torso, bore the mark of the Dragon glowing fiercely upon his chest... accompanied by faint blue electric arcs trailing outward.

At that moment, the Silver Dragon Queen understood.

So tonight, the 42°C flaming rod she was about to face also came with lightning-element damage, huh?