You coquettish dragon, are you trying to seduce the general again with a beauty trap?

Heh heh...

Such petty tricks, I’ll tell you—

I’ll let them work today.

The one who wishes to take the bait is captured!

Leon grabbed Roswitha’s wrists and pulled her into his embrace, seating her sideways on his laps—

Well, not quite. It was less "Leon put her there" and more "Roswitha gracefully maneuvered herself into the position."

Roswitha wrapped her arms around Leon’s neck; the tips of their noses brushed and they grazed each other lightly. Her soft lips danced tantalizingly close to his skin.

It seemed that someone was been getting quite skillful at deploying the beauty trap.

“Why don't you come and kiss me? Hmm? My big hero,” Roswitha murmured. Her voice was full of teasing intimacy.

“It’s been… too long.”

“Too long for what?”

“Six months. It’s been too long.”

Roswitha blinked. “So?”

“So I’ve forgotten how to kiss you.”

“...”

Forgotten?

Forgot something that’s practically ingrained in our DNA—the primitive impulse to kiss?

Why don’t you leave your brain alone in the future?

You sly dog, you’re clearly just making excuses. Don't think for a second that the queen couldn't see straight through you.

Fine, so you won’t make the first move?

Well then, it's time for reviewing a little “pull-and-tug strategy” between us lovebirds.

“Ah, what a pity. I’ve forgotten how to kiss as well. How troublesome!” Roswitha cooed playfully.

Leon glanced down at her position on his laps, then at her arms winding around his neck.

And those sultry eyes paired with that flirtatious tone—

“You’re doing all this so smoothly; it doesn’t look like you’ve forgotten as well.”

“Sorry, my dear husband. It’s just like the old days when I only won key matches.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I only win key matches, and I only forget key things too. Ah~ Look at my silly brain. It’s hopeless!”

“...”

Roswitha leaned her chest forward, allowing her softness to lightly press against Leon’s chest.

“What are we going to do, darling? Darling, say something~”

Leon’s eye twitched slightly.

Stop squeezing, Dragon Queen.

I just finished my meal—don't make me vomit!

The pair continued their battle of wits and reluctant pulls, neither willing to be the one who breaks first and loses control to their overwhelming impulses.

Sure, giving in would be the easy way—mutually satisfying for both parties.

But every skirmish and moment of resistance carried stakes for the dynamics of their household hierarchy. This couldn’t be taken lightly.

Their black and silver eyes reflected one another’s gazes as they faced off. They were so close that their breaths mingled, and their increasingly rapid heartbeats were clearly audible.

After six months apart, the longing buried deep within them had long transcended that of a brief lover's reunion.

Rustle—

The silver tail dragged lightly across the floor, slowly creeping up to coil around Leon’s ankles. It slid further upward, gently curling around his calf.

Its agile tip ventured into his pant leg, teasing the sensitive hollow beneath his knees.

A ticklish sensation, electrifyingly sensitive.

Leon inhaled deeply, catching the familiar and enticing scent of her body—a fragrance he knew all too well. Ultimately, he decided to surrender willingly to the temptation.

His hands tenderly cupped Roswitha’s delicate face as their lips met.

Their lips alternately parted and pressed together, as if savoring each other’s taste.

A brief and reserved prelude gave way to a deeper, more profound duet.

They both lied.

Six months hadn’t made them forget how to kiss each other—if anything, it had intensified their desire. Their separation had only magnified their hunger for one another, leading them to lose themselves in a kiss that consumed them whole.

As their emotions escalated, Leon's palms began to drift downward from Roswitha’s face.

It glided along her fair swan-like neck, skimming her slender and defined collarbone, and paused briefly at her softness—adding just enough fervor to their reunion.

Then, his touch ventured toward Roswitha’s abdomen.

However, as his fingertips traced Roswitha’s ribs, she suddenly jolted, emitting a stifled gasp of discomfort.

Leon stopped in alarm and immediately withdrew, asking, "What's wrong? Did I hurt you?"

“No...”

Roswitha winced slightly, furrowing her brow. “It’s just… battle wounds. After fighting for so long, it’s inevitable to be left with a few scars.”

She touched the area under her ribs and managed to smile. “I think this one happened a few days ago. When I was in dragon form, a rock thrown by the enemy struck me… ugh… It hasn’t healed yet.”

Looking at how much pain she was in, it didn’t seem “unhealed”—it looked fresh, as though it had just happened yesterday.

Leon quickly guided Roswitha into the nearby chair, urging her to rest for a moment.

“All this time, you’ve been enduring the pain because the kids were around us, haven’t you?” Leon asked while examining her injury.

“Mm.”

He lifted Roswitha’s shirt slightly, his fingers unintentionally brushing against her warm and supple skin—it was smooth and tender.

Yet, it bore traces of countless wounds.

It seemed the past six months had been grueling for her too.

Leon frowned deeply, gently pressing on her ribs as he asked if it hurt.

Roswitha held up the hem of her shirt and replied softly, “It’s fine. With Dragon Clan’s self-healing ability, injuries like these will heal naturally in a few days—even without treatment.”

“But it’ll hurt for a while, right?”

Leon jumped in, lowering her shirt as he added, “I’ll stop by Sherry’s later to grab some painkillers for you.”

Roswitha didn’t argue, nodding. “Alright. For now… shall we head to the bedroom?”

“Mm.”

Roswitha clutched her ribs and slowly stood up.

However, just as she turned to take a step forward, she noticed that Leon was still seated in his chair.

“Didn’t get enough to eat?” Roswitha asked.

“No…” He rubbed his thigh, looking somewhat distressed.

Roswitha caught his small movement and asked with concern, “Did you hurt your leg?”

Leon shook his head. “It turns out that the fight just now marks the limit of my strength… After storing up magic for so long, and combined with the Nine Hells Gate spell, taking down those Dragon Kings left me barely able to walk.”

Facing four Dragon Kings simultaneously, even the old Leon would have been in for a tough battle.

While earlier it had appeared that Leon had dispatched those Dragon Kings almost without injury, the drastic expenditure of magic paired with the backfire effects of Nine Hells Gate had left their toll afterward.

The queen blinked, then softly chuckled. Reaching Leon’s side, she gently helped him up.

“Got it—you didn’t want our daughters to worry, so you were holding it all in.”

Leon gave a wry smile, allowing Roswitha to support him.

The couple leaned on each other, arm over shoulder and hand around waist, helping one another out of the dining room and walked through the corridor.

“If I had a bit more magic… I probably wouldn’t be struggling to walk like this.”

Leon muttered, “Although earlier, the amount of magic I stored seemed to max out the Dragon Mark’s capacity. When I tried to cohere more beyond its limits, all the excess was absorbed by that mysterious ‘thing’ inside me.”

Roswitha’s thoughts flickered, her lips pursing slightly. “I do… have a method. To help you store more magic.”

Leon glanced sideways at her. “What’s the method?”

The queen smiled mischievously. “Do you really want to know?”

Seeing her sly expression, General Leon felt a pang of apprehension.

Swallowing hard, Leon trembled as he asked, “It… it wouldn’t be something weird, would it?”

“No, no, no—rest assured, it’s *not* weird~~at all~~”

Roswitha said, “Once I’ve recovered from my injury, let's try it together.”

“Oh… Wait?! Why did you say ‘us’ instead of just ‘you’?!”