Roswitha hurriedly guarded her waist, then executed a smooth maneuver, just like a carp, to dive into the covers, pulling the blanket all the way up to her mouth, leaving only a tiny nose exposed above it for breathing.

Her actions were fluid and seamless, as if she had practiced them countless times beforehand.

Leon stood beside the bed, watching Roswitha, who was wrapped up tightly like a cocoon. With a chuckle, he asked,

"What’s the matter? I just want to have a look, that’s all."

From beneath the blanket, the queen offered a reasonable explanation. "You… You haven’t fully grasped our current situation yet."

Leon raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Right now, we already have two Dragon Marks. The sensation of… desires, will be transmitted through the Dragon Marks at double the intensity."

Roswitha explained, "Let’s take an example: before, if we wanted… wanted to do something intimate, we would kiss first, or use other flirtatious methods to activate the Dragon Mark in the other person. But now… when you just glance at a certain part of my body, perhaps you will… you will feel that kind of urge."

Upon hearing this, General Leon pondered her words briefly and then spread his hands.

"Do I seem like the type of man who allows my epencephalon to control my brain?"

"For most things, I won’t say—but when it comes to husband-and-wife matters, you absolutely are!"

"Come now, that’s an injustice, Your Majesty. I'll do nothing but just have a look," Leon defended himself, raising three fingers in an oath.

"I swear to the heavens, just one glance."

Looking at Leon’s sincere expression, Roswitha pursed her lips, torn on whether to let him see or not.

Although the couple had explored every inch of each other’s body since long time ago, knowing even the tiniest details, down to the mole near some very private spots, deliberately exposing sensitive areas…was still far too embarrassing!

Earlier in the sanctuary, when Roswitha pulled up her skirt to show Leon the area around her abdomen, she had already felt overwhelmed with shame.

And now, he wanted to see her waist, the most sensitive part…

Roswitha bit her lip, hesitating for a long time before finally saying,

"You can have a look, but you absolutely cannot touch. Do you understand?"

"Okay, okay," he agreed readily.

Roswitha let out a breath of relief, as though assuring herself psychologically.

Then, sitting upright on the bed, she tucked in her tail, leaned forward in a duck-like sitting position, and slowly lifted the hem of her skirt behind her.

Her plump hips, wrapped in black lace, had above the edge of the lace on the lower back the freshly inscribed Dragon Mark.

It rose and fell rhythmically with Roswitha’s breath—cute yet provocative.

But the waist was only part of the Dragon Mark; another small portion extended along the hollow of her tailbone, disappearing under the lace underwear.

Leon commented, stroking his chin and slightly furrowing his brow,

"This Dragon Mark sure knows how to pick a spot."

"Are you done looking, you scoundrel?" Roswitha asked, her cheeks flushed deeply.

"Let your tail out so I can look more closely," Leon suggested.

"The tailbone and waist are too close, and I want to see if the Dragon Mark shifts its position when your tail is out."

Oh, so that’s what he meant—she thought he was just looking for an excuse to pinch her tail again.

Obediently, Roswitha did as she was told and released her tail.

Part of the Dragon Mark still remained on her lower back, but with the tail out and the structure of her body slightly altered, the other part extended to just below the base of her tail.

Normally, Dragon Clan members would keep their tails naturally hanging down during daily activities.

So, the Dragon Mark wouldn’t be visible to others even if it extended beneath the tail—unless…

There were some perverted Dragon Clan folks who found pleasure in flipping others’ tails.

But if that were ever to happen, Leon would undoubtedly electrify the offender into a pile of ash long before anyone could touch his wife.

"Under the tailbone," Leon remarked.

Hearing Leon's words, Roswitha sighed quietly in relief.

"Oh, that sounds not too bad. At least it didn’t shift to somewhere weird."

"Somewhere weird, by which you mean... your butt?"

"Shut up! Do you have some kind of obsession with my butt?"

"I have an obsession with your entire body, Your Majesty."

"Go to hell, you idiot! You’re so disgusting!"

Is it true that married men grow increasingly shameless over time?

How dare you to talk with me in that way? Seems like you haven't fully understood your status.

Roswitha silently cursed him in her mind, then lowered her skirt and lay back in the covers.

"I’ll deal with you another day. Now, go to bed and sleep."

"Oh? Are you still willing to sleep in the same bed with me now?" Leon teased.

Roswitha blinked, not understanding why he would ask such a question. "Why not?"

"You just said that the Dragon Marks would react more easily—what if I accidentally touch your hands and you get the impulse to violate me? Then what?"

Roswitha rolled her eyes speechlessly toward the ceiling.

"Don’t flatter yourself, idiot. Even if you held my hand the entire night, I wouldn’t feel anything."

"Alright, since you insist, I’ll reluctantly continue sharing a bed with you."

"If you feel reluctant, the courtyard is free. No one will stop you."

Leon grinned cheekily, moved around to the other side of the bed, changed into his pajamas, and slipped into the covers.

Underneath the blanket, he reached out and held Roswitha’s hands.

Despite the lack of visibility, Leon managed to locate Roswitha's hands, which were hidden under the blanket with pinpoint accuracy.

Whether the queen deliberately moved her hands toward him, or Leon himself had simply grown adept at this, remained unclear.

Once their hands were intertwined, their fingers naturally interlocked.

Leon carefully gauged his own feelings before commenting,

"Seems like… nothing special, honestly. What about you?"

"Nothing here either. Not only no feelings—I’m actually getting sleepy."

"Hah! After living together for a year and you've already been bored now, huh?"

Roswitha cast him a sideways glance. "In this world, there are only two types of people who feel nothing when lying next to each other."

Leon turned his head toward her. "Oh? Which two?"

"Pure friendship and old married couples."

"Whoa, Your Majesty, you’re making me blush here. Three years into marriage, and we’re already old married folks, huh?" Leon replied theatrically.

"Idiot. I meant we’re pure friends."

"If you say so—"

The banter cut short.

Leon suddenly felt his heartbeat skip.

After that one skipped beat, his breathing quickened uncontrollably, and his body heat began to rise.

He noticed that Roswitha’s fingers twitch slightly within his hands.

This meant Roswitha was feeling the same reaction as he was.

The act of holding hands became overwhelmingly sensitive. Even this simple gesture triggered countless images in their minds.

Roswitha had always enjoyed the feeling of Leon’s palms against hers—and now, that sensation extended itself solely through imagination, heightening her physical awareness.

Gripping the bedsheet tightly with her free hand, Roswitha fought to suppress the restless surge in her body.

"Leon… Leon…"

"Don’t call my name…"

Many times, when they reach climax together, Roswitha couldn’t help but call out Leon’s name.

But this time, she had voiced his name only casually—yet somehow, those simple words unfurled with an unmistakable allure.

"No—it’s just… Leon, something feels… off."

Leon glanced at her, muttering, "Oh, Mother Dragon, weren’t you just saying holding hands all night wouldn’t be a problem?"

Roswitha pursed her dry lips, attempting to pull her hands free.

But with Leon’s large palms firmly clasping hers, the sensation felt far too pleasurable…

She didn’t need to do anything at all. Merely being held was enough to bring delightful sensations coursing through her body.

Though it risked things spiraling out of control, the feeling was dangerously addictive.

After a brief internal debate, Roswitha surrendered entirely.

Leon, experiencing the same heightened sensitivity as she, asked lowly,

"Hey, Mother Dragon—can you… smell that?"

"Smell what?"

"It’s an intoxicating fragrant…"

"What?"

A soft rustling sound came from beside her. The man turned and drew closer, wrapping his arm around her waist under the covers.

"Roswitha," Leon murmured, "you smell intoxicating."