The interview began quickly.
Leon and Roswitha took their seats, and the same three interviewers from two years ago were still in charge of the process.
The two seated on either side maintained their stern demeanor, but Vice Principal Wilson already looked eager, as if he was greatly anticipating how the couple would perform this year.
Unfortunately, old Wilson, you're in for some disappointment this time.
"If you're ready, we can begin the interview now," the vice principal said.
The couple nodded. "We're ready, Principal."
"Alright."
The vice principal glanced briefly at the interview materials on the table before saying, "Let’s start with what seems to be the most significant change in your family over the past two years."
Hearing this, Roswitha was momentarily stunned and asked, "Vice Principal, do you mean...?"
"The third princess, Aurora."
The vice principal elaborated, "It’s rare for families in the Dragon Clan who conceive live births to consider having a second child, particularly when their first were twins. So, I'm quite curious—what made you decide to have a third child?"
A chance?
If an unplanned pregnancy counts as a chance, we could have a lengthy discussion about it.
The couple exchanged a glance, communicating silently with their eyes.
Becoming pregnant with Aurora had indeed been an accident, a fact they couldn't deny. But Leon and Roswitha both understood that, under this circumstance, there was absolutely no way they could admit to it.
If the interviewers heard them use the word "accident," they might think the couple was highly irresponsible about their children.
This wouldn't just lower the points in the family interview; it might drop low enough to disqualify Muen and Aurora from passing the enrollment test.
So, how should they answer this question? They needed to deliberate.
After a brief moment of thought, Roswitha finally spoke up.
"It’s like this: my husband and I have been married for quite a few years now. We've been through all kinds of ups and downs together. Over time, our married life gradually transitioned from passionate to calm and routine. So we started wondering if there was something we could do to help rekindle the spark we once felt for each other."
"After trying a few things, we found that none of them worked."
"That’s when my husband suggested perhaps we should have another baby. Just like how we raised Noa and Muen, we could also raise Aurora into an equally exceptional young dragon."
"I agreed with his proposal, and that’s how Aurora came into our lives."
This explanation was a twofold strategy.
Not only did it completely avoid the "unplanned pregnancy" narrative, it also communicated the idea that their "waning marital passion" was actively addressed.
When Roswitha finished her response, Leon glanced over at the interviewer on the far right, the one holding the score sheet. He was scribbling something on the paper, his brows tightly furrowed, his expression stern.
It seemed Roswitha's response hadn’t completely gone as the interviewer had anticipated.
Excellent. The desired effect had been achieved.
However, though they had achieved the desired result, the couple overlooked a minor flaw in this explanation.
"Since the conception of the third daughter came about as a way to rekindle your feelings for each other, does it mean your emotions toward her might differ slightly from those toward your first two daughters?" asked the interviewer on the left.
His phrasing was quite euphemistic—just shy of directly asking whether Aurora was merely a tool for keeping their marriage intact.
For this question, Leon didn’t need much thought. He responded immediately, "Our feelings for Aurora are no different from those we have for Muen and Noa."
"Oh? But wasn’t the reason you conceived your third daughter to revive your marital passion?"
The interviewer twirled an expensive pen in his hand. Compared to the couple-obsessed vice principal and the stern scorekeeper, this interviewer seemed far more sharp-tongued.
This was, of course, normal. After all, in a serious interview, someone always had to play the "bad cop."
You couldn’t exactly expect the vice principal to fill that role, could you?
If that were the case, Leon and Roswitha probably would’ve passed in two rounds with a perfect score.
"Mr. Interviewer, in my opinion, the circumstances leading to Roswitha's conception of our third daughter and the feelings we have for her after her birth are unrelated."
Leon’s voice was steady and firm. "Do you really think parents capable of raising a young dragon as outstanding as Noa could be so irresponsible?"
A well-timed rhetorical question could be quite effective in creating the illusion of confidence.
And Roswitha could infer clearly—her husband was getting a little annoyed with this "bad cop."
Admittedly, the narrative they’d come up with to lower their score was effective, but questioning a dad’s love for his daughter was undeniably upsetting.
If this weren’t an interview where they clearly lacked the upper hand, Leon might’ve already flipped the table and whipped out Chidori.
The interviewer chuckled faintly, lowered his head, stopped twirling his pen, and began jotting something down on the paper.
"Ms. Roswitha, you mentioned earlier that your married life had grown boring, and that the initial passion in your relationship had waned."
The vice principal furrowed his white eyebrows. "After the third princess was born, did this situation improve?"
Roswitha smiled softly and brushed her hair back. "There has been some improvement, definitely. But returning to the way we were when we just got married would be extremely difficult."
As her words trailed off, Roswitha subtly tapped Leon’s legs under the table.
Leon immediately understood her cue and chimed in, "Truthfully, it’s not just about getting back to how things were when we just got married. We can’t even return to how things were two years ago, when Noa just got into school."
The couple’s back-and-forth responses appeared to dance on the thin line of what's acceptable in a family interview.
If you claim they’re about to divorce, that seems a step too far.
But if you say they’re passionately in love as ever, that feels like an overstatement.
In short, it was...peculiar.
Peculiar enough to allow their interview score to hover right on the edge of "mediocre."
Being labeled "mediocre" wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. It was sufficient for them to pass the enrollment interview without being marked as a role-model family.
Noticing the interviewers’ reactions, the couple felt a secret sense of relief.
Success seemed within reach!
However, while their carefully measured responses straddled the right boundaries and they understood the interview’s expectations, they overlooked one crucial factor: the vice principal, that relentless shipper of this couple’s love story.
Old Wilson drank a few hurried sips of water, as though trying to force himself to remain calm.
After another few rounds of questions, the two interviewers leaned in by Wilson’s ears and whispered that there were no further issues.
Wilson glanced at their score sheets. Though the scores were just enough to pass the family interview, they certainly didn’t reflect the overwhelming and pure love story he had envisioned—a love that effortlessly crushed any competitors under its force.
Reaching into his suit pocket, the vice principal pulled out a handkerchief to dab at the sweat beading on his forehead.
He pursed his lips and gazed at the couple sitting before him.
They leaned back comfortably in their chairs, legs crossed, completely at ease.
The scene was idyllic, but in the vice principal’s mind, his favortie couple was rapidly heading toward disaster!
The vice principal fidgeted with his fingers, hesitated, then finally mustered the courage to ask,
"If I may ask... do you two still love each other?"
Roswitha raised an eyebrow. "Love? Of course we love each other."
Leon nodded in agreement. "Although we no longer have the same fiery passion as before, I still love my wife."
There was absolutely no chance they would admit they didn’t love each other anymore.
Even without this "no social death" plan, would they have admitted it?—Ahem, that’s hard to say~
Though Leon and Roswitha both explicitly stated their feelings, in the vice principal’s eyes, this seemed nothing more than a prepared response tailored for the interview.
Old Wilson quietly clenched his fists and thought to himself:
No.
I can’t let this happen.
I absolutely won’t let this happen!
The ship of my favorite couple absolutely cannot sink!
