Roswitha admired the expressions on Leon's face as he was exposed for his past secrets with immense satisfaction.

Hmm, yes, yes, just like that—astonishment, shock, confusion, bewilderment, and with a dash of the blushing awkwardness only a teenage boy could muster.

My husband, you are so adorable—

Of course, "husband" was a fake title, while "adorable" was definitely not a compliment.

The queen crossed her legs, rested her chin on one hand, her striking silver eyes fixed on Leon, with a faint smile gracing her lips.

She wasn’t in a hurry to continue speaking; it seemed as if she was waiting for Leon to defend himself.

After waiting for a moment, she noticed that Leon just sat there awkwardly, clearly on edge, but stubbornly silent, not offering a single word of explanation.

Roswitha raised one of her elegantly shaped eyebrows. “About this silver-haired senior of yours, don’t you have anything to say?”

In fact, Roswitha had heard about the silver-haired girl quite some time ago from Leon’s mentor.

And from those brutally honest “truth sessions” at 2:30 a.m., she had some additional contexts about the girl.

To her recollection, Roswitha had never formally discussed this matter with Leon, having only teased him a couple of times under the excuse of, “I heard you talking in your sleep.”

Now, though, with the fresh gossip she had just procured from Rebecca, she wanted to have a proper chat about this enigmatic “silver-haired female classmate.”

Ah.

Well, not so much “chat” as a playful interrogation just to see him squirming in embarrassment.

If he could somehow manage to coax her into a better mood after his awkward time, then she would let it slide and spare his pitiful life.

But if he couldn’t… hmph, well, don’t blame this queen for tipping the entire vinegar jar onto his clueless head!

“Say… say something...” Leon swallowed, his voice dry. “What do you want to hear?”

“Whatever you say, I’ll listen,” Roswitha replied leisurely, her smile unwavering. “I clearly remember, ages ago, that you even mumbled about her in your sleep.”

“I never talk in my sleep—that’s obviously something you made up.”

“Oh? Is that so? It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that in your otherwise bland life time, there must have been such a silver-haired girl who left a deep impression on you, isn’t that right?”

“...”

Leon clamped his mouth shut, uncertain of where this was going. But seeing no way to dodge it, he admitted reluctantly, “Yes.”

“Then spill—how far did things go between you two? Did you kiss?” The queen leaned back, crossed her arms, and assumed the posture of a police officer interrogating a prime suspect.

In truth, Roswitha already knew Leon and that girl didn’t have anything—their relationship was clean as a blank sheet of paper.

But she wanted him to say it outright.

Leon rubbed his palms against each other and stared at the floor. “No...”

“No kissing? So, at least holding hands, right?”

“Umm... during a dance, I barely touched her wrists—it doesn’t really count as holding hands.”

“A dance? You actually danced with her?”

“No, no, no—it was during a social dance hosted by the academy. Everyone had to pair up, and we only danced one song.”

Good heavens.

General Leon had been cooler facing down Constantine at war than he was currently, sweating buckets under Roswitha’s inquisitive gaze.

After all, no Dragon King can’t be silenced by a single thunderbolt strike—or two, if necessary.

But there isn't a “Jealousy Queen” whose wrath can be dismissed in one or two sentences. And if such a person existed, surely it wouldn’t be Roswitha Melkevi!

“Have you ever danced with me?” Roswitha asked.

“Well, you’ve never mentioned dancing…”

“And if I don’t mention it, you wouldn’t bring it up yourself?”

Leon: ...

What does marriage even bring to men?

It's really terrible.

Leon quietly sighed, then lowered his voice and asked, “Roswitha, are you… jealous? Or perhaps angry?”

Roswitha’s eyes flickered, and then with a casual grace, she stood up, walked over to him, leaned down, and gently brushed the tip of his nose with her finger.

“I’m not jealous, and I’m certainly not angry. I don’t care about that so-called female classmate at all. Now, turn off the lights and get to bed.”

Straightening her posture, Roswitha left the study with an effortless stride.

Moments later came the sound of her shoes hitting the floor, followed by her slipping into bed with a relaxed sigh.

Leon, still seated in the chair, hesitated, considering the option of just sleeping on the sofa tonight…

His mentor once told him that, one must interprets women's words backward.

If she says she doesn’t want it, then she definitely does want it.

If she says it’s not a big deal, then it’s definitely a huge deal.

If she says she’s not angry or jealous, then she's definitely angry and jealous.

Leon had asked, “Was that how Lady Mentor behaved too?”

His master replied, “Of course. How else do you think I came to this conclusion?”

Leon then inquired, “Then should I flip all their words around?”

His master pondered for a moment and replied, “Not always. When she tells you to get in bed, you don’t need to interpret that—she really means it.”

Back then, his master didn’t expound on the topic, probably because Leon was too young and inexperienced to grasp the subtler nuances of such adult matters.

Snapping back to reality, Leon exhaled quietly. Then he got up, turned off the study lights, and headed to the bedroom.

He pulled back the blanket and lay down.

The warmth of the bedding, already infused with Roswitha’s body heat, wrapped around him, along with her light fragrance.

Leon turned his head to look at her. Roswitha lay with her back to him, her nightgown strap slipping off her smooth shoulders, lazily draped over her pale and slender arm.

Leon opened his mouth, intending to offer another explanation about the female classmate.

But after thinking for a moment, he decided against it.

I’ll sort it out tomorrow, he thought to himself.

Just as Leon was about to close his eyes and sleep, a soft voice floated from beside him,

“That’s it? You’re just going to sleep?”

“...What else do you want, Your Majesty?”

“Idiot.”

Her tone carried a hint of grievance. “Fine, sleep all you want. Goodnight.”

Leon’s thoughts sharpened.

Something is wrong.

She had told him to get in bed, but then followed it up by asking, “That’s it?”

Her behaviors were clearly pointing to one thing—

She was waiting for him to give her a clear answer.

For once, General Leon’s brain worked at top speed when it came to pacifying his wife.

He turned to face Roswitha’s delicate back, her silver hair glowing like a shimmering river of stars under the moonlight.

After a long moment of silence, Leon spoke, “There’s absolutely nothing between me and that female classmate. The closest thing to ‘intimacy’ we ever shared was that single dance. After the party, I barely interacted with her again.”

“Hmm.”

Her reaction was too muted.

Which meant Leon hadn’t fully hit the mark yet.

The general dug deeper into his mind for the right words. After a moment, he added,

“I can’t even recall her name now. Back then, it was even less likely that I had feelings for her, wasn’t it?”

“Oh.”

Still didn’t hit the mark?

Leon scratched the corner of his mouth thoughtfully.

This time, after a long deliberation, he said,

“You’re the first woman I’ve ever hugged, the first woman I’ve ever held hands with, and the first woman I’ve ever kissed.”

“Really?”

She reacted!

And her tone even carried an undercurrent of suppressed delight.

“Yes,” Leon said. “Honestly, back when I was a student, I was pretty dull and a bit of a blockhead. I kept imagining finding a ‘perfect’ girl to be my partner, but looking back now, that so-called ‘perfection’ never really existed.”

“That silver-haired classmate of mine merely fit part of my ideal image of perfection—specifically her looks. That’s likely why I was curious enough to approach her.”

“But after getting to know her better, I realized she wasn’t anything like what I had envisioned.”

“It’s not that she or any of those other girls were bad people. It’s just… in their interactions with me, they always placed themselves in positions that were too submissive. And I disliked that.”

“What I wanted was a partner who could engage with me as an equal in our relationship—someone who can interact equally rather than constantly compromising or yielding.”

“For a long time, I thought I would never find such a person.”

“Until… I ended up building this ‘fake family’ with you.”

“And though all this saying like ‘You’re the one I’ve been searching for’ sounds a little… sappy—”

“Still...”

Leon paused, searching for the right phrasing, though none seemed adequate.

After hesitating briefly, he chuckled self-deprecatingly. But then he swiftly adopted a much more earnest tone,

“You *are* the one, Roswitha.”

When he finished, he felt uncertain.

Because throughout the entire time he’d been speaking, Roswitha had given no reaction whatsoever.

Leon bit down on his lips, unable to help but wonder if he had misstepped somewhere along the way.

If this had been in the past, he wouldn’t have cared much about her feelings.

But after all their time together—and after witnessing glimpses of what the future could hold—it was hard not to care about the emotions of the woman who lay beside him.

He was no longer indifferent. He found himself moved by Roswitha: her happiness or sorrow, her joy or frustrations, and all the other emotions she stirred up within him.

Leon wasn’t sure if this was what people called “love.” But what he did know was that, he didn’t dislike any of it.

As for Roswitha...

She was already on the verge of being completely giddy from the sweet words flowing out of this stupid man’s mouth.

Was this the kind of thing she was even allowed to listen to?

Hey, hey, hey, I am a dragon. Your sworn nemesis. How could you just... just randomly say such sappy and heart-melting things to me like that?

Hmm...

Actually, well done!

This was precisely the outcome Roswitha had been aiming for when she brought this conversation up tonight.

The focus had never been on his history with that female classmate. Roswitha trusted his characters completely.

The real point was… where *she* stood in his heart.

She needed to hear it with her own ears—Leon admitting that she was his first.

She wanted to make him expressly acknowledge how important she was to him.

And no matter how many flirtatious and romantic words he said, it would never be too much.

“All done?” Roswitha asked, her amusement barely hidden.

“Ah… yeah, I’m done.”

“Hmm. Alright then—hold me.”

“Uh... what?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself. I said, hold me.”

“Oh… okay...”

Leon cautiously leaned in, inching closer to Roswitha from behind, and gently wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

"Just the shoulders?" Roswitha asked.

"What else... would I do?"

"Hmph, idiot."

With that, Roswitha grabbed Leon's hands and guided them to her waist.

"This is how you hold me from behind. Like this. Always like this. Got it?"

Leon blinked, understanding dawning on him. Oh~~~ he got it now. She was in a good mood.

Well, since she was happy now, the great General Leon didn’t need to play it polite anymore.

His hands, taking liberties without asking, slid up from Roswitha’s waist to her soft belly.

Roswitha quickly grabbed his wrists. "What are you doing?"

"I just... wanted to hold you closer," Leon murmured as he buried his face against the curve of her neck, his warm breath wrapping around her like a veil.

Roswitha, of course, merely made a token attempt to stop him.

"Don’t touch me—it tickles, you stupid man... Hey, stop moving down—mm~~"

Leon placed a tender kiss on the back of her neck, and then whispered in her ear.

"It won’t take too long, my jealous silver dragon. After all, you have to teach them tomorrow."