In the evening, Leon leaned against the balcony railing, gazing toward the backyard of the sanctuary.

After listening to Her Majesty's passionate speech, the Silver Dragon Clan had reached unprecedented enthusiasm for the idea of "giving birth to a child."

Currently, they were holding a party in the yard.

Of course, there’s no any logical link between "wanting to have kids" and "holdng a party"—otherwise, it would be coined as a lewd party.

Instead, they were just celebrating the Silver Dragons’ survival of this recent crisis, vowing to rally under the Queen’s leadership and stride toward a brighter future.

Leon’s gaze fell on the silver-haired beauty in the courtyard.

Roswitha stood out brightly among the crowd. The glow of the bonfire reflected off her charming face as she laughed. Linking arms with the maids, she danced around the fire, performing one of the Dragon Clan's celebratory dances.

Her campaign was going well and had already achieved initial success—most clan members were slowly beginning to find courage and tried to fall in love with someone.

A few days ago, when Roswitha initially proposed this idea to Leon, Leon had asked her directly whether it was for the tribe's revival or if this was just her genuine belief.

Roswitha pondered for a moment and replied, “Both.”

In the past, Roswitha would never allow personal feelings to influence her decisions.

But after spending so much time with Leon, she gradually began to change as well.

She was willing to embrace new ideas and implement them through concrete directives.

She even dared to "lead by example," putting her relationship with Leon on full display before the clan to help them better understand what real "love" ought to be.

Even though she had been a queen for fifty years, she still continued to grow and to evolve.

What Leon admired most about her was this relentless curiosity and commitment to the unknown.

They were similar individuals—aside from each other's appearances fitting perfectly into each other's ideal preferences, their admirable qualities also deeply attracted one another.

Leon withdrew his gaze from the courtyard and looked up at the night sky, letting out a long sigh.

Being not able to drink too much alcholo, Leon didn't join the Silver Dragons’ bonfire party.

Besides… Roswitha’s passionate speech during the day was so "unbearably moving" that when Leon recalled it now, even his toes cringed in embarrassment.

What were those things on the courtyard floor?

They were goosebumps from General Leon!

Thinking about this, Leon sucked in a cold breath and squinted at the female dragon who was still dancing away, muttering quietly,

“Did she really have to make it that disgusting...? Seriously.”

Shaking his head to dispel the mortifying memory, Leon turned around and left the bedroom, heading toward Noa and her sisters’ room.

It was already late at night, and the children were fast asleep.

Leon merely peeked through the bedroom door without entering to disturb them.

After leaving the sisters' room, Leon made his way to the sanctuary’s hall.

Roswitha’s new throne had been completed. Before the bonfire party commenced, Roswitha had told Leon to wait for her here.

Her cryptic attitude left him puzzled about her plans.

Leon’s gaze rested at the top of the stairs in front of the new throne. Internally, he chuckled,

“Don’t tell me she’s here to boast about her new station.”

To put it kindly, that was the queen’s throne; to put it bluntly, that was just her office chair.

Fair enough.

After hesitating briefly, Leon stepped onto the staircase and approached to the throne.

“Whoa, it’s definitely much bigger than it used to be. It could practically fit two people on it.”

Remarking casually, Leon cautiously sat down.

The moment his bottom met the cushion—

Ah!

Fantastic!

General Leon closed his eyes, savoring the sensation of his hips perfectly melding with the plush throne cushion. In that moment, he understood.

“No wonder she had it rebuilt. This is no longer a throne; it’s practically a VIP-exclusive lazy sofa!”

Tsk, that dragoness has gotten too lax!

As a workaholic, how could she use such a comfortable sofa?

Leon had a suggestion, which was to move the throne to his bedroom; then she could make do with a small stool instead.

Leon began testing different positions on the throne.

Horizontal, vertical, feet in the air, fish flop, inverted hook, crane stance…

“Impressive, seriously!”

Even the worldly-wise General Leon couldn’t help but applauded.

This throne was capable of accommodating such a wide variety of resting postures—it seemed the dragoness had put considerable effort into it.

But after indulging for a while, Leon suddenly realized something was off.

“Tsk... Roswitha wouldn’t rebuild a throne like this out of the blue. She’s not one for consumerism.”

Leon ran his fingers along the throne’s armrest, baffled as to why Roswitha had gone to the trouble of redesigning it.

And while it was still called a “throne,” what sort of Dragon King would have a throne so spacious?

Spacious enough for Leon to perform military calisthenics on.

“Better wait until she gets back and ask her directly. If it turns out to be extravagance, I’ll need to give her a proper lecture!"

Leon sat on the throne patiently waiting.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed. The bonfire outside had burnt out, and the sound of revelry had gradually dissipated.

At this point, Leon was beginning to doze off.

Through his drowsy consciousness, Leon heard crisp high heels echoing from behind the throne.

He didn’t need to turn around; merely hearing the rhythm of the footsteps, he instantly knew who it was.

“My little lion~ Oh, little lion of mine~ Are you here?”

Roswitha was humming an unknown tune, spouting nonsense. Obviously, she was intoxicated from the party.

Leon stared straight ahead, rolling his eyes in exasperation, not bothering to meet her.

Drinking until this late—does she even remember she’s got a home?

Only when a faint scent of wine crept into Leon’s nostrils did he lift his head to look at her.

Roswitha’s cheeks were flushed red, her eyes dreamy, her face adorned with a silly smile, and she held a half-empty bottle of red wine in one of her hands.

“Good morning!” Roswitha greeted him cheerily.

“How much did you drink…”

Roswitha hummed softly for a while, as if trying to recall.

Finally, she raised two fingers.

“Two bottles, and you’re like this? If you can’t drink too much, then don't do it.”

“Two cases.”

“…”

Leon silently raised a thumbs-up.

Roswitha squinted and smiled, then boldly walked over and plopped herself down on Leon’s laps.

She wasn’t a slender lightweight of seventy or eighty pounds; as a healthy Queen, she had curves where they were meant to be. Sitting on Leon’s lap, she made her weight distinctly felt.

“You really don’t regard yourself as an outsider, do you?”

Although Leon teased her, he carefully supported her waist, preventing her from toppling over in her drunken state.

“This is the sanctuary. What if someone sees you?”

“No problem, no one will see us.”

Roswitha replied, “I gave them all the night off—tonight, the entire sanctuary hall is just for the two of us.”

Leon sighed, “So, you asked me to wait here for what exactly? Don’t tell me you just drank too much and can’t find your bedroom, so you want me to take you back?”

“Of course not. I remember the way back to the bedroom very well.” Roswitha puffed her chest proudly.

Leon remained skeptical, “Then which floor of the sanctuary is our bedroom on?”

“Um… the third floor!” Roswitha raised five fingers.

“It’s on the fourth floor.”

“Ah! I totally meant to say the fourth floor! Yes, the fourth floor!” She then dropped two fingers, leaving three raised.

This was outright nonsense!

Leon slapped his hand against his forehead.

Great.

Absolutely hopeless.

He grabbed Roswitha’s hands and lowered them, then sat upright, leaning closer to her until they faced each other directly.

“Put the wine bottle down. We’re going back to sleep.”

“No.”

“Why not? You’re already drunk.”

“It’s rare for us to have this entire hall to ourselves. Sleeping so early would ruin the mood.”

Leon scoffed, “Ruining the mood between you and me? There’s no mood to ruin. Be quick. Go back and sleep.”

“I! Won’t!”

Roswitha stubbornly clung to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and curling her tail around his calf.

The soft warmth of her breath brushed against Leon’s nose, carrying hints of wine.

Admittedly, a slightly tipsy Roswitha was even more alluring than usual.

Her face, dusted with blush, carried the sultry charm of someone who had just emerged from a feverish night—a stunning beauty.

Even a fleeting glance into her gaze was enough to make Leon’s heart stir.

Unable to argue with her, Leon resigned himself to wait for her to sober up before leading her back to bed.

She idly perched on Leon’s laps, with her softness pressing up against his chest. She leaned in close, but seemed to deliberately control the distance.

Her red lips danced tantalizingly near Leon’s, grazing lightly across the corner.

She knew perfectly well that if she kissed him now, Leon wouldn’t resist.

But instead, she toyed with restraint, teasing and provoking.

Igniting them both into a much stronger and smoldering flame.

“How was my speech today?” Roswitha asked.

“Want the truth?”

“Of course.”

“That! Was! Too! Cheesy!” Leon bluntly replied, “My goose bumps littered everywhere.”

“How was it cheesy? Didn’t you notice the clan members being extremely supportive of us?”

Roswitha countered, “This proves that our usual displays of affection have made an impression. Everyone believes that we truly love each other. I capitalized on that belief to promote the revival plan for live births. Hmph, idiot, you don’t understand anything.”

Leon’s heart softened slightly. Pulling Roswitha closer by the waist, he asked,

“Were the words from your speech… all from the bottom of your heart?”

Roswitha raised an elegant eyebrow and answered,

“What do you think? Of course not. They were just crafted to help everyone believe in love. Naturally, I made them sound as touching as possible. Surely… you didn’t take them seriously, did you?” Roswitha lowered her body and leaned on Leon's shoulders. Touching his ears softly, she said those words slowly.

“I did. Will you take responsibility for that?”

Hearing this, Roswitha suddenly bolted upright. Surprise and joy flashed across her slightly drunken face. She hummed twice and then declared,

“Well, bad luck for you then, I won’t take responsibility. I told nothing but lies, so if you took them seriously, that’s your problem—not mine.”

“Really, Roswitha?”

The hands resting on her waist slowly moved to the base of her tail, and Leon gently stroked the root of her tail with his fingertips.

Roswitha’s body softened instantly, but her words remained stubborn, “Of, of course! I don’t love you at all... not at all.”

She lay on Leon’s chest, her fingers unconsciously clutching his shirt tightly.

Roswitha bit her lower lip, the alcohol flooding her brain relentlessly, and an intense feeling of “unwillingness” surged up from nowhere.

At last, she grabbed Leon’s collar, suddenly sat upright, looked into his eyes, and brazenly denied her previous statements:

“I love you! Everything I said during the daytime was true! I’ve fallen in love. I’m doomed, so what!”

Leon had long suspected that the dragon was being contrary, and with a bit of alcohol in her system, it was only a matter of time before she spilled the truth. So he had not been in a hurry at all.

“What are you laughing at? Laugh, laugh, laugh. I’m telling you, I’m only saying this because I’ve had too much to drink.”

“By the time tomorrow morning comes and I sober up, I won’t admit to anything I’ve said!”

“Remember that? Say something!”

She pouted and gave Leon’s shoulder a playful shove.

Leon continued to smile faintly.

He slowly sat upright as well, one hand still gently stroking the root of her tail, while the other hand slowly slid around her smooth and tender back.

“Say more, Melkevi.”

“I won’t.”

“Isn’t it you who said it? That since you’re drunk now, nothing you say counts, and by tomorrow you won’t admit any of it. If that’s the case, saying a bit more shouldn’t be a problem, right?”

Getting a drunken dragon to talk is as easy as coaxing a child.

As luck would have it, General Leon was good at handling kids!

Sure enough, Roswitha felt tempted by his words.

She averted her gaze, her flushed face burning bright red, and mumbled so faintly that her voice was nearly inaudible, “Then... what do you want to hear?”

“Say you want to be with me forever.”

Roswitha pouted, “No... Ah! Don’t pinch my tail, you jerk...”

She gave Leon’s hand a symbolic nudge, but her tail remained firmly grasped in his palms.

“Say, you want... to be... with me... forever,” Leon pressed relentlessly.

The blush extended all the way to the tips of the queen’s ears.

She pursed her lips, wanting to say it but was too shy to find the words.

To be together forever... Those words... Even if she was drunk and muddle-headed, saying them out loud was still mortifying!

That damned man, always taking advantage of her situation.

“I want... I want to be with you... forever!”

As soon as she finished, she ducked her head into Leon’s neck as though she were trying to hide from someone.

Roswitha curled her toes tightly, and even the tip of her tail raised, perhaps finally understanding the cringeworthy mix of awkwardness and embarrassment Leon felt during her speech earlier in the day.

It wasn’t until Roswitha heard Leon’s laughter that she lifted her head, then jabbed him lightly in the chest.

“Are you satisfied?”

“Very satisfied.”

“You can enjoy it while it lasts, Leon, because I won’t admit to any of this tomorrow.”

Leon slowly brushed his fingers over her burning cheeks before gradually reaching toward her neck. Then, his hand gently grasped her face, pulling her closer inch by inch.

He gazed into her charming and slightly dazed silver eyes, and spoke softly,

“Then let tomorrow come a little later, Melkevi.”