"Ah-choo!"

“Dad, did you catch a cold?”

By the floor-to-ceiling window of the library, Muen sat at a desk holding a copy of *Fundamentals of Magical Theory*. She lifted her small head and looked at her father.

Leon rubbed his nose and exhaled. “I don’t think so…”

“Then why did you sneeze?”

“Maybe… someone is bad-mouthing me?”

It wasn’t just “bad-mouthing.” The old of the Empire had openly declared they’d grind Leon’s bones into dust.

Fortunately, General Leon was "tough enough". Such a vicious “curse” only resulted in a single sneeze.

“Could it be Aunt Isa silently complaining while fixing the pavilion you crashed into again, Dad?” Aurora, sitting across from her sister, chimed in.

Leon chuckled, walked over, and affectionately ruffled his younger daughter’s hair. “Focus on your studies. Tomorrow, I’m giving both of you a test to see where you stand.”

There were only twenty days left until the entrance exam for Saint Hiss Academy.

Judging by the current progress of his two beloved daughters, they’d have no problem passing the test. The question was just how far they could excel.

After all, Noa had once passed the academy entrance exam at the youngest age ever and with the highest score. Naturally, as her younger sisters, Muen and Aurora didn’t want to be outdone.

“Got it, Dad.”

The little dragon girls buried themselves back into their books.

They were already in a consolidation phase and didn’t need Leon’s hands-on guidance, leaving him feeling a bit idle.

The father glanced at the clock on the wall—still early.

“You two keep studying for a while. Dad’s heading out.”

“Okay, Dad!”

“Make sure to come down for lunch later,” he reminded.

“Got it!”

After a gentle reminder, Leon got up and left the library.

He walked through the corridor, down the stairs, and arrived at the grand hall on the first floor of the sanctum.

Roswitha sat on the enlarged, refurbished throne, buried under a mountain of work files.

With no diplomatic meetings or formal events for the day, she wore light makeup and a modest yet elegant gown. Around her neck hung a pendant necklace gifted by her grandmother.

Roswitha’s silver hair flowed casually down her back, though a small braid at her temple—the result of a prank Leon pulled ages ago—still remained. It had become one of her signature traits.

The hall was quiet. Leon quietly padded forward, but even so, his footfalls were audibly dull and heavy in the cavernous space.

The beauty seated on the throne cast a glance at him but said nothing, quickly returning her attention to her work.

It wasn’t until Leon ascended the steps and stood close to the throne that Roswitha finally spoke.

“Do you need something?”

“Are you busy today…?” Leon asked cautiously.

Roswitha nodded toward the pile of documents and reports on the table, her tone somewhat exasperated. “What do you think? After just two days at my sister’s place, I came back to this mountain of work. I’ll probably need to work overtime tonight.”

“Oh… Is there anything I can help with?”

Roswitha paused her writing for a split second. She didn’t say anything but shifted slightly, making room for him. “Come, sit here.”

“Huh?”

“You said you wanted to help. So, sit here.”

“Oh.”

Leon obediently sat down.

The moment he pressed against the throne, the familiar texture sparked fond memories of a particular escapade.

Not long ago, when the throne had just been refurbished, he and Roswitha took their rebellion to new heights with what could be described as a… *particularly memorable activity*.

Both had embraced the thrill of *defying sense and tradition.*

However, ever since then, the couple hadn’t dared repeat such antics there. Partly because getting caught by someone in their clan would be unimaginably mortifying; merely describing it as “social death” would be an understatement. They’d probably have to relocate to another planet just to survive the sheer embarrassment.

The other reason was the symbolic significance of the throne. It represented power and governance. Though the audacious and taboo experience of their *homework session* on the throne had certainly been exhilarating, a sense of respect for tradition ultimately prevailed.

Once was enough—well, maybe twice. Any more, and it would decidedly lose its *refined appeal.*

Shaking off those memories, Leon leaned in slightly to assess the documents on the table. “Which one do you need me to help with?”

“Hmm? None, actually,” Roswitha said.

Leon blinked in confusion. “Then why did you ask me to sit here?”

“Because you sitting here is helping,” Roswitha replied matter-of-factly. “I need someone to keep me company while I deal with this dull work. That person has to be patient, emotionally intelligent, and mildly entertaining. Bonus points if he’s good-looking.”

“...You’re so shallow.”

“Why is it shallow? I’m addressing tribal matters as their queen while also enjoying the presence of a man I admire, who provides me emotional value. How is that shallow, hmm?”

She slowly turned her head toward him, a faint smile dancing on her lips as her gaze grew soft and alluring. “Oh, by the way, you’re also quite easy on the eyes.”

See? How amazing is it to having an appearance on the queen’s preferences.

When captured by a queen, it buys you a few more minutes to try a Hail Mary confession.

And in the long run, you don’t even need to do anything; just sit there, and you’ll have a queen smiling radiantly at you and complimenting your looks.

Leon pressed down the corners of his lips, which threatened to curl into a grin, silently accepting Roswitha’s flattering remarks.

Noticing Leon's delight, Roswitha chuckled softly and didn’t push further, returning to her work.

After a moment, she suddenly asked, “Why did you ask if I was busy?”

“Ehm… I was thinking of inviting you on a walk.”

Roswitha raised an eyebrow. “Are you inviting me on a date?”

Leon’s mouth moved awkwardly. “I guess… something like that.”

Their daughters’ studies didn’t need his immediate oversight, and his physical recuperation was passive, leaving Leon feeling boring these past few days.

After mulling it over repeatedly, he finally mustered the courage to ask Roswitha. A walk to clear their minds sounded good, didn’t it?

But the queen’s response was unexpected:

“I don’t want to.”

Leon: “?”

“We’re not boyfriend and girlfriend. Why would I go on a date with you?”

The smiling profile of Roswitha made Leon pause before coming to a realization. This dragoness was blatantly playing coy.

“How are we not considered boyfriend and girlfriend?” Leon asked directly.

If she was flirting while pretending not to understand, there was no harm in being blunt. Leon decided to meet her head-on—why hedge when a straight ball can break through everything?

“You’ve never formally confessed to me, so naturally, we don’t count,” Roswitha said calmly.

Oh—a straight ball met an even straighter reply.

Leon instantly lost this round. Scratching his nose in embarrassment, he murmured, “Fair enough...”

He didn’t bring up the date again, deciding instead to remain quiet and provide Roswitha with emotional companionship—and serve as her eye candy.

Roswitha didn’t press the conversation further and instead buried herself back in her tasks.

The afternoon passed quickly.

The two of them sat shoulder to shoulder on the throne. Roswitha continued plowing through the monotonous workload, occasionally resting her head on Leon’s shoulder when she felt too tired.

After the “no confession, no boyfriend” topic ended, their afternoon was oddly quiet.

Near dinnertime, Roswitha lowered her pen and stretched lazily, her elegant curves catching Leon’s gaze and leaving him quietly restless.

She let out a relieved sigh as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She turned to glance at Leon.

He looked… rather muted?

Not as lively as usual. Perhaps still sulking from his failed “date” invitation earlier?

Roswitha knew him well. The man may appear bold but had an awfully “petty” streak.

Rarely did he take the initiative. Given how she’d refused him earlier, it made sense he’d be gloomy.

Roswitha smiled, then stood. “After dinner, meet me in the cherry blossom grove at the back hill.”

Leon’s eyes lit up. “Does this mean you’re agreeing to a date, Your Majesty?”

Roswitha snorted softly. “It’s just a routine inspection of the back hill. Not a date.”

She might as well have tattooed “I’m a tsundere” across her forehead.

Leon wasn’t fooled.

The two exchanged knowing smiles, their gaze charged with unspoken intimacy.

After a long pause of looking into each other’s eyes, Roswitha turned away, crossed her arms, and elegantly descended the stairs in her heels. “Time to have dinner.”

Leon followed closely behind.

At the dinner table, their daughters eagerly shared the new knowledge they’d learned that afternoon. Leon and Roswitha attentively listened and offered supportive praise.

After dinner, the couple exchanged a subtle glance. Roswitha barely tilted her chin toward the back hill, and Leon immediately understood.

As the maids cleaned up the dining table, Leon slipped out first, heading for the cherry blossom grove.

Married couples develop these little habits, after all.

Trysts that aren’t convenient to openly discuss often need no more than a glance to arrange.

Leon arrived at the cherry blossoms.

Before long, the sound of footsteps approached from behind.

He turned, only to frown when he saw not just Roswitha in the distance—but also her maid, Milan.

To the delight of Roswitha, Leon’s expression was perfect: bewildered and vaguely betrayed.

“M-Milan came too…” Leon muttered.

“Yes, Your Highness. I’m here to accompany Her Majesty on her inspection of the back hill.” Milan answered respectfully.

Damn it.

Wasn’t this supposed to be a date?

It turned out to be just an *inspection!*

“Ah… That’s, uh, great…” Leon said with a strained smile.

What else could he say? Telling the maid to leave so he could spend some alone time with her queen would’ve been both indiscreet and insulting.

Though Milan wouldn’t likely mind—she’d probably be thrilled to know more romantic things about this couple—it wouldn’t exactly present Leon in the best light. Far too obvious that he’d been completely whipped by Roswitha.

Roswitha looked at the expression on her silly husband's face and felt utterly satisfied.

Mhm, yes, exactly this kind of expression.

"How could this happen? I really want to be alone with her, but why does she have to bring someone else along? Whine, my wife, my beloved wife, I want to hold your tiny hands, but I just can't."

Ah, men. Not so long ago, we were an even match, but now~~

You’ve fallen in love~

"Milan, go check over there. The prince and I will head to the other side," Roswitha said.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Milan was quite understanding and immediately turned around, jogging off.

Pulling her gaze back from Milan, Roswitha looked at Leon with a mischievous smile and asked, "For a moment just now, did you think our romantic evening alone was about to be ruined?"

"Tch, you suffer from a mental disorder."

Leon waved his hand dismissively and turned away, not wanting to deal with this dragoness.

Roswitha took the chance to grab his hands. "Oh, are you sulking, my little lion?"

"Cut it out, dragoness... Enough already."

If this went on, the scene might devolve into some over-the-top "arrogant female CEO" drama.

What about the dignity of me, General Leon?!

Roswitha covered her mouth and chuckled lightly, deciding not to tease him anymore. "Alright, alright, I’ll stop."

She tilted her head toward the cherry blossom woods. "Shall we take a walk?"

"Sure."

The couple strolled hand in hand through the cherry blossom forest.

At first, they talked about their daughters’ progress at school and then moved on to Constantine.

"The Empire has mastered that kind of ridiculous fusion magic… Seems like future battles won’t be easy," Roswitha said.

"It’s not so bad," Leon replied. "My detonation magic can’t target a single dragon scale on its own. Once activated, it will explode all five dragon scales together. And all the Heart-Guarding Dragon Scales I saw in the future were stored together, so… I bet the Empire is cursing me out big time right now."

Roswitha chuckled. "Then why didn’t you use the detonation magic earlier? If you had, Constantine wouldn't have been able to reincarnate as a fusion beast, would he?"

"You mean, one fine morning, I wake up in bed, open my eyes, snap my fingers on a whim, and boom—the Empire's dragon scale storage explodes?"

Leon turned to the silver-haired beauty beside him. "That would lack any sense of ceremony."

Roswitha playfully slapped his arms. "You're really obsessed with this 'sense of ceremony.' Because of that, my sister’s garden lawn and pavilion now have to be fully rebuilt."

Leon laughed. "Well, let them rebuild then. It’s not like it’s coming out of *my* pocket."

The couple bantered back and forth, and naturally, their conversation transitioned from Isa to the topic of grandma.

"Oh, speaking of which, my grandmother sent a letter this morning saying she’ll be visiting my sister next week," Roswitha said. "I’m thinking I’ll take the girls and join them. While we’re at it, we could get a family photo taken. What do you think?"

Leon nodded. "Sounds good."

"Mhm. And maybe… we can try asking grandma again about the Northern Wastes."