"Leon... I-I’m so nervous."

"Don’t be nervous. There’s a first time for everything. Just give it a try. You have to take that first brave step."

"But I still feel unsure..."

"It’s okay. I’ll guide you along the way. Now, stretch out your hand. Slowly feel the surge of power. Yes, just like that... Can you feel it?"

"I can feel it... It’s kind of hot, and it’s constantly expanding outward..."

"See? You’re doing great even though it’s your first time using this method. Keep going. That’s it."

"Leon! Look, isn’t there some white stuff coming out?"

"There really is! Keep it up, Roswitha! Hold it steady!"

"I... I think I’m losing control, Leon. It’s getting too hot to handle... Let’s stop."

"Alas... Alright. Such a pity, though. We were so close."

On the lawn in the backyard of Silver Dragon Castle, the couple sat cross-legged, facing each other.

Roswitha soothed the burning sensation in her palms, then looked up at Leon.

"First of all, thank you for practicing Primordial Power condensation with me."

"But next time when you help me train, can you not use such... ambiguous expressions?"

Leon blinked, feigning innocence. "What’s so ambiguous about it?"

"Words like 'first time,' 'don’t be nervous,' and 'don’t stop'. Those phrases sound too suggestive!"

"How about your 'white stuff' and 'hot to handle'? Didn’t they sound weird at all?" Leon retorted reasonably.

"T-That’s because you led me astray!" The Queen argued with conviction.

General Leon rolled his eyes. "Alright, mighty dragon lady, it’s not like we’re a pair of clueless teenagers anymore. What’s wrong with using a bit of mature vocabulary? As long as we get the point across."

"Wait a minute, Casmode. Are you implying that you’ve been in love before?"

"Hah? Aren’t you and I considered being in love?"

"We’re NOT!"

"...Fine, whatever you say."

Leon let out a long breath and leaned back, lying on the soft grass.

A while back, when meeting his master and Rebecca, Leon had asked his master to find some books about Primordial Magic, to which his master agreed.

However, neither he nor Roswitha was entirely relying on his master to be some kind of Doraemon who could pull anything out of his four-dimensional pocket.

So after they returned, the couple began researching Primordial Magic themselves.

As Roswitha had said before, Primordial Magic was too ancient and mysterious; there wasn’t a single ancient text or document that recorded it in detail in the present day.

They could only dig out bits and pieces about Primordial Magic from the margins of various historical records.

After some exploration, Roswitha discovered that using Primordial Magic required first condensing "Primordial Power."

Using regular magic would severely dilute the effects of Primordial Magic.

Initially, Roswitha couldn’t figure out how to condense Primordial Power at all.

This wasn’t about talent or effort; Primordial Magic was such a puzzling thing that anyone starting out would be at a complete loss.

However, only a few days ago, Roswitha was astonished to find that she could faintly sense a power within her that was entirely different from ordinary magic.

Since then, she had been trying to draw this power out of herself.

Today, with Leon’s guidance, Roswitha had managed to make some progress.

She spread out her palm, where a small flicker of white energy flames danced and flickered.

"You know, it’s strange. I couldn’t feel any trace of Primordial Power just a short while ago, but now I can already condense it," Roswitha said.

Leon, lying on the grass and gazing at the sky, replied, "That just proves that my guidance is top-notch."

Roswitha snorted softly and kicked his calf. "Stop being so narcissistic."

Leon chuckled and sat up, turning to look at Roswitha’s lovely and radiant face. "Then it must be because my wife is extraordinarily talented."

Caught off guard by the sudden compliment, the Queen’s lips curled up proudly. "Hmph, glad you know."

After a pause, Roswitha suddenly realized something.

As the realization dawned on her, she swung her feet again, aiming for Leon. "Stop trying to cozy up to me! Who’s your wife? You should address me properly as Her Majesty the Queen."

"Yes~ yes~ Her Majesty the Queen."

Recently, this man’s words had become ridiculously sweet. What was he up to? Could it be that his dull brain had finally come around to realizing her worth? Or was he scheming some devious plan?

With her understanding of Leon, there was no way he would change like this without a reason.

There had to be something fishy going on!

But contrary to the Queen’s overthinking, the truth was none of this.

Leon was simply reminded of a promise he had made to their daughters in the future, where he had vowed to be more proactive in his relationship with Roswitha upon returning.

However, now that life had settled back into its normal rhythm, he found himself hesitating again.

Yet General Leon was not one to go back on his word!

He had promised his daughters, and he would hold himself to it!

If being proactive was challenging for him, then sweet-talking her with things she liked to hear to make her happy was just as effective, wasn't it?

Oh, women! They could be so hard to please when they wanted to be, but so easy to charm when the time was right~

As Roswitha stared at Leon, who was grinning mindlessly to himself, her eyes narrowed. "You’re definitely up to something, aren’t you?"

Her words dragged Leon’s wandering thoughts back to reality, leaving him confused. "What... something?"

"You’ve been constantly making me happy recently, saying all these syrupy things you’ve never said before. When something seems off, there’s always a reason. You must have some hidden agenda, don’t you?"

"Nope," Leon replied. "Is that really what you think of me?"

Roswitha took a moment to consider the question seriously, then nodded solemnly, enunciating clearly, "Yes."

"...Though it saddens me to be so profoundly misunderstood by you, I’m still happy."

"Why?"

"Because at least I still have a place in your heart."

Now it was Roswitha’s turn to be at a loss for words.

"Casmode, I actually preferred the old you—arrogant and rebellious, constantly threatening to chop me up. Could you please go back to that?"

Roswitha sighed. "If you have something you want, just say it outright. Stop feeding me these cloying compliments."

Because if you keep this up, I might actually start believing them.

"Hey, what’s this about? I’m being sincere, okay?" Leon protested.

"Oh, please. You’re all talk. You’ll keep this up for a while, but once you can’t achieve your goals, you’ll stop sweet-talking me every day."

Seeing Roswitha’s continuing skepticism, Leon felt a sense of urgency kicked in.

"Alright, mighty dragon lady, since you’re framing it like this—"

Roswitha raised an elegant brow.

Judging by his tone, it seemed he was about to drop his act.

Ha, I knew it, you sly man, she thought triumphantly.

But to her surprise, his next words were:

"Then I’ll just keep saying it every single day."

"No, not just every day. I’ll say it for a year—no, even a year isn’t enough."

"I’ll keep saying these sweet lines for ten years, twenty years, thirty years, right up until the day I’m six feet under! I’ll gross you out with my cheesiness until you learn to respect my resolve!"

The determined look on his face left Roswitha with no doubts—Leon wasn’t joking.

He was dead serious about saying sweet nothings to her for a lifetime!

Roswitha was momentarily stunned, her long silver tail unconsciously curling behind her.

She quietly clutched the edges of her skirt, struggling to suppress the shy warmth threatening to surface inside her.

"Y-You think I’m scared of you saying these things? If you dare to speak, I dare to listen!"

Their gazes locked, as if sparks were invisibly flying between them.

After a prolonged standoff, both of them turned their heads away simultaneously.

"Childish man," Roswitha muttered under her breath, then stood up, patting the dust from her skirt. "Let’s go. Time for dinner."

"What’s for dinner?" Leon asked, following closely behind her.

"Eggplant stir-fried with carrots."

"If you actually cook that, Roswitha, I swear, the only thing getting stir-fried tonight won’t just be the carrots."

"Eat it or don’t. I can’t stand picky eaters."

"You can’t, but I’m the exception."

"Shameless!"

As they bickered, they headed back toward the Silver Dragon Castle.

The setting sun stretched their shadows long—so long.