Early the next morning, when Roswitha arrived at the temple's public library, the place was already packed to capacity.

The temporary venue for the Love Tutorial Class was here, and the atmosphere was perfect—ideal for learning.

Besides, everyone's enthusiasm for the class was palpable.

However, General Leon was...rather late today.

Roswitha, too aware of his tardiness, wore a subtly complex expression on her face.

Milan noticed this and asked with concern, "Your Majesty, are you feeling unwell?"

Roswitha quickly looked away. "No, I’m fine..."

She couldn’t believe she had fallen for that rascal’s words last night—his so-called promise of "just one time" while assuring her that it wouldn’t interfere with her lesson the next day.

Once turned into twice.

Roswitha indulged him, coaxed him, much like placating a child—and truth be told. She herself was reluctant to call it a night.

And so it went on.

Once.

Twice.

And then over and over again, each time labeled as “the last time.”

But with the double buffs of the Dragon Marks, their shared philosophy had boiled down to: "If it doesn’t kill us, we’ll push it to the limit."

Fortunately, Roswitha had the constitution of a workaholic. Come morning, she had managed to drag her utterly exhausted body out of bed, put herself together, and arrive here to share her experiences in love with her clans people.

She had intended to emphasize the importance of "respecting each other's boundaries" in a relationship—something Leon had stressed to her the night before.

But after endurance-testing levels of revelry all night long, all she wanted to say was:

Stay away from the Dragon Mark. Treasure your life.

The Queen sighed inwardly, shaking her head to dispel the chaotic thoughts swirling through her mind.

Though physically tired, it wasn’t enough to stop her from conveying her and Leon’s insights on relationships to her Clan today.

“Good morning, Your Majesty!”

“Morning, Your Majesty~”

“Your Majesty, good morning~!”

Roswitha's clans people and maids greeted her warmly. She responded to each of them with a nod and a kind smile.

Amid the expectant gazes of the crowd, she walked toward the area below the floor-to-ceiling windows of the library—the temporary podium for the Love Tutorial Class.

In truth, calling it a "class" was too exaggerated; the environment wasn’t all that formal.

It was more like a "mutual assistance group."

After a brief introduction, Roswitha smoothly transitioned to the topic of the day: "respecting each other's boundaries" in relationships.

Leon’s words last night had greatly enlightened her.

She had spent some time organizing and expanding on the thoughts Leon had shared. Today, explaining the essence of relationships to everyone wasn’t going to be difficult.

The members of the Silver Dragon Clan listened intently from their seats, with some even taking out notebooks to carefully jot down every golden nugget of wisdom offered by their Queen.

About twenty minutes later, Leon quietly arrived at the door of the library.

Roswitha was engrossed in her lecture, and her audience was equally absorbed, so no one noticed his presence.

Leon wasn’t in a rush to make an entrance. With his hands casually in his pockets, he leaned against the doorframe of the library. His gaze swept over bookshelves, chairs, and people before locking precisely onto the silver-haired beauty standing confidently amidst the sea of admiring eyes.

“There’s a certain innate impulse in Dragon Clan blood,” her voice resounded. “When emotions are stirred, that impulse becomes uncontrollable.

And after indulging the impulse, there must be someone who gets hurt.

Sometimes it’s the enemy. Sometimes it’s ourselves.

But in the context of a relationship, that same impulse can harm the one you care about the most—and the one who also cares most for you.

We can find ourselves ruled by our emotions, saying the most hurtful words, or doing things that are incomprehensible to the other person.

This is normal.

But normal doesn’t mean right.

In the past, your Prince Consort and I have had arguments for all sorts of reasons. Each time, I would unleash my sharpest words, aiming to wound him as if to punish him for daring to cross me.

But in the end, I realized that doing so only hurt both of us.

Fortunately, in those moments of domestic strife, we instinctively left a sliver of breathing space for each other, keeping our conflicts from truly breaking our bond.

If we had pushed each other to the edge, intent on cornering the other with no room for retreat, then even in victory, it would have been an empty one—a true defeat in every sense.

What we need to do is to solve problems together, not treat each other as the problem to be eradicated.

And as always, respecting each other and recognizing where to stop before crossing your counterpart’s untouchable boundaries—that is the key to maintaining a healthy bond.”

"......"

Roswitha shared her insights and reflections with the Clan as generously as she could.

Meanwhile, Leon stood silently at the door, listening.

As he listened further, he raised a hand to scratch the tip of his nose, a proud smile surfacing on his face.

He wasn’t smiling because her words struck a chord. After all, having whispered enough sweet nothings the night before, their bed had been filled not only with unidentifiable liquids but also goosebumps from their own rhetoric.

Instead, Leon smiled because of a specific phrase Roswitha had used in front of the Clan:

“Your Prince Consort.”

Leon felt that this title carried far more gravitas than “my husband,” while also being more accessible than “my spouse.”

Above all, it faintly emanated a small but perceptible pride in her tone when she said it.

No.

Roswitha had to flaunt our love publicly more often.

That way, Leon would get to hear “your Prince Consort” all the time.

—

Another hour passed, and Roswitha had covered most of her planned material.

Now, it was time for a Q&A session.

“Your Majesty! I read in a book that marriage is the grave of love—how should we interpret that?”

Roswitha pondered for a moment and replied with a smile,

“I wouldn’t outright refute the idea. But personally, I believe that marriage isn’t the grave of love—it’s the beginning of the next chapter.”

“The next chapter?”

“Yes. If you’re unprepared to marry your lover, then it might feel like a cold grave. But if you’re ready for it, it becomes the rebirth of love.”

Leon: For us, love didn't have the first or second chapter. We skipped straight to pregnancy.

Kids, don’t try this at home~

“Your Majesty, over here! Is having a baby a scary experience?”

“Well… it’s an ordeal but not exactly frightening.”

“Your Majesty~ Your Majesty~ Does the Prince Consort get jealous when you spend too much time with the princesses?”

“He doesn’t, because it’s very obvious that he spends far more time doting on the children than I do. If anything, I’m the one who should get jealous.”

“Does the Prince Consort try to cheer you up when you’re upset?”

“I make sure to let him know he needs to, and he’ll obediently do so.”

"..."

The barrage of questions continued.

Toward the end, one question was especially bold:

“Your Majesty, when was the last time you and the Prince Consort kissed?”

At the question, the previously composed Queen suddenly froze.

Then, her cheeks flushed pink.

What should she do?

Should she admit that they had kissed just this morning?

Would that make it seem like the Prince Consort and me are *too* in love?

Ugh… Granted, it was a Love Tutorial Class, but perhaps this level of transparency was overkill.

As Roswitha’s mind spun with possibilities, a familiar voice broke the tension,

“Your Majesty might not remember because we don’t kiss *that* often.”

“Prince Consort!”

“Oh, oh, the Prince Consort and Her Majesty are making a joint appearance again!”

In the midst of excited chatter, Leon strode over to Roswitha's side.

Roswitha shot him a sideways glance and lowered her voice, “Have you thought of how you’re going to answer? Don’t mess with me.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got this,” Leon replied smugly.

He then took Roswitha’s hand, lifting it gently as he turned to address the gathered maids and Clan members with a smile,

“Well, I do remember when our last kiss was.”

“When?! When was it?!” a thrilled maid, Milan, blurted out.

Roswitha also turned to Leon, curious whether he would go with the truth or...

Before she could process fully, a warm and soft sensation brushed against her lips.

Her eyes widened in shock, her pupils trembling, and her tail instinctively stood straight. The classic behavior of *penguin-hand-in-clasping-position*.

When she finally snapped back to reality, the cheeky man by her side declared proudly,

“Our last kiss? It happened just now.”