Roswitha’s wrists were crossed above her head, pinned to the headboard by Leon.

Her chest rose and fell with each breath, the motion highlighting her defenseless position. In this state of complete vulnerability, Leon could freely savor her exquisite body.

Yet Roswitha remained calm, her demeanor composed.

She arched an elegant brow and asked softly,

"Evening is almost upon us. Aren't you worried that a maid might come to call us for dinner?"

In truth, she had already informed Milan that she and Leon would not be dining tonight.

So even if they were to strip and "battle" right now, there would be no fear of interruption.

Still, Roswitha couldn't resist teasing Leon. It was her way of playing around, indulging in some light banter before any "serious business" began.

If Leon retreated, she would take the chance to mock him mercilessly, claiming he didn’t even dare to taste the delicacy laid right before him.

If, however, Leon pressed on, he would have to contend with the psychological pressure of potentially being "caught in action" by maids—

a tension resembling the frantic rush of completing overdue homework after an idle holiday.

But Leon's response, as always, defied her expectations.

Drawing closer, he leaned in to lock eyes with Roswitha’s bright and enchanting silver gaze. With a voice that was calmly indifferent, he replied,

"If they come, they come. Wasn't it those little maids who speculated we were going through a 'cold spell' in our marriage? Well, perfect timing. Let's show them that not only is that false, but things are... rather heated between us."

With that, Leon placed a soft kiss on the corner of Roswitha's lips.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of her teasingly seductive smirk.

"What are you laughing at?" Leon pinched her chin, his tone slightly impatient and displeased.

Of course, such negative emotions were deliberately feigned. He knew Roswitha liked this kind of dynamic.

If he were too gentle, carefully pandering to Roswitha’s every mood, she would lose interest.

The wild spirit of the Dragon Clan ran deep in Roswitha’s bloodline—she wasn’t the type to play the role of a docile lady.

What she sought was a body-to-body exchange, vibrant with wild passion and defiant challenges. Especially a few years ago, when she and Leon were genuinely on opposite sides, neither yielding to the other. That fierce rivalry had laid the foundation for their uniquely spirited "married life" today.

While their everyday interactions were filled with mutual provoking, they both understood precisely what the other truly desired.

"I'm laughing at you, idiot."

"Laughing at me? Hmph, my dragon queen, do take a look at the situation right now—" As he spoke, Leon tightened his grip on Roswitha's wrists.

“Mhm... ah...”

The slight ache in her wrists elicited a soft moan from Roswitha, but the smile on her face didn’t waver.

"You're pinned down by me, completely at my mercy, and you’re still laughing at me?"

The queen's bewitching eyes sparkled, and she blew a gentle breath toward Leon’s face.

Her exhale was warm, carrying a subtle fragrance from her mouth.

"If you want to do something to me, just hurry up and do it already. Why so long-winded? Or is it that you’re—"

Roswitha narrowed her silver eyes slightly. "Stalling for time?"

"Stalling for time?"

"That’s right. The sun hasn’t fully set yet. Technically, it’s not nighttime, so you’re too afraid to make a move on me."

Roswitha laughed lightly, her tone playful. "You, dear sir... Hmph, you only grow bold after dark—ah!"

Her mocking words struck the perfect target.

Those words propelled the enemy into initiating the first round of assault.

Leon had no intention of releasing Roswitha’s hands. At the same time, he used his knees to press gently against Roswitha’s tail.

With this, she was rendered utterly powerless to resist.

Well, almost.

If she wanted to, she still had that sharp-tongued wit of hers, sturdy as steel.

But no matter.

Leon had his methods to silence her.

“Ha. Don’t think you can scare me like this, you shameless boy, Casmode. The sun’s still high in the sky, and you wouldn’t dare to—mmph!”

Her words were cut off by his lips, sealing hers completely.

A kiss to shut her up, sparing Leon from hearing her be hard-headed any longer.

Victory twinkled in Roswitha’s eyes.

While she pretended to struggle for appearances, inwardly, she brimmed with sly satisfaction.

She loved Leon’s rough kisses most of all—the way he would bite down on her lips, force through her defenses, and finally dominate her mouth.

In that moment, her entire world consisted of Leon.

Leon’s breath, Leon’s warmth, Leon’s touch...

He filled her entirely in every way.

When the kiss finally ended, Roswitha’s face was flushed red, her silver hair clinging to her sweat-dampened skin.

She snickered softly, “That was... completely underwhelming.”

“Oh really, Your Majesty? Then let’s change the battlefield.”

“Wait—hey! Where are you taking me?!”

Roswitha panicked.

Draped over Leon’s arms, she felt her heart race.

Moving mid-battlefield was not part of her planned script.

Where was this man taking her?

To the bathroom? The kitchen? Or the living room?

But they had tried all those locations countless times. The couple had already exhausted their creativity with such settings. Time and again, they found that the bed, with its classic simplicity, remained unbeatable.

Before Roswitha could settle her frantic thoughts, a blinding streak of sunset dragged her back to reality.

She raised her hands to shield her eyes, realizing that Leon had carried her out to the balcony.

From this vantage, they had an unbroken view of the blood-red setting sun.

“Leon, you—”

Before she could finish her sentence, Leon pressed her onto the tea table.

“Your Majesty, didn’t you just say I wouldn’t dare to do anything to you in broad daylight?”

He gently pinched her chin, forcing her to lift her head toward the crimson horizon.

“Then watch closely. Before the sun sets, I won’t... let you go.”

The call to battle sounded.

Flames of unbridled passion ignited, scorching their bodies and minds.

Creak—creak—

The tea table’s legs scraped against the balcony floor, producing a rhythmic sound.

The tea cups set on the table clinked against each other softly.

In this position, Roswitha felt a measure of discomfort. Her legs were too long, and the tea table was slightly too low, forcing her to arch her hips and waist.

But then again…

For moments like these, a little discomfort could also be a good thing.

It had been a long time since she and Leon had dared to engage in anything so audacious.

Naturally, Roswitha found herself far more exhilarated than usual.

Her silver hair fanned out across the table’s surface, and the sunset reflected brilliantly in her wide-open eyes.

Leon didn't loosen his grip, ensuring she continued to look toward the far horizon.

The forcefulness of his ways overwhelmed Roswitha, drawing her into an euphoric state from which she couldn’t escape.

Golden sunlight poured over her sweat-slicked face. A gentle evening breeze wound its way onto the balcony and snuck into her collar.

The tea table beneath them rocked harder and harder. Her mental control over her awareness dimmed steadily.

Resisting was ready to surrender herself entirely to the primal instincts sweeping over her.

Her long eyelashes quivered. She gazed into the distance at the sinking sun, watching it disappear bit by bit below the horizon.

And as the sun vanished completely from her sight, Leon kept his promise, ensuring he won’t "let her go" before the final rays melted away.

He chose that precise moment—when the sun dipped below—to “release” Roswitha, liberating her from the throes of desire’s cage.

...

“I have to get a new tea table."

"Why? Can’t we still use this one?"

"Unless you prefer to think back on what we just did every time you have tea, I’m fine not replacing it.”

“Fine. Replace it then. Doing something like *that* while watching the sunset… it’s utterly uncivilized!”

Roswitha cast him a playful glare, her voice scolding but her lips tilting into a smile. “You suddenly care about being civilized now? Why didn’t you think about decorum earlier when you were all over me?”

“Touching you *is* civilized.”

“Oh? In what way?”

“Civilized beastliness.”

"...” Roswitha rolled her eyes, closing them to ignore him.

But still, it wasn’t long before Leon spoke again. “Hey.”

“What now?”

“I’m hungry.”

“Then go eat.”

“But we’ve already missed dinner.”

“So? What’s that got to do with me?”

The moment she said it, Roswitha froze briefly.

Ugh—Leon didn’t know it yet, but it really was her who had told Milan to skip their dinner earlier. Well, no matter. No way she’d let him find that out!

“I have a dream,” Leon murmured, lying on the bed and staring up at the ceiling.

Roswitha didn’t respond. She already knew the bastard was about to say something outrageous.

“If I’m fortunate enough to someday eat a meal cooked by Her Majesty, the Silver Dragon Queen, my life would be complete.”

“The Silver Dragon Queen strongly suggests you go die instead, thanks.”

“Fried rice.”

“I didn’t say I’d cook for you. How dare you start ordering?”

“And add some ham cubes.”

“Hey…”

“And if there’s some shredded meat in there, even better.”

“I’m the Silver Dragon Queen, not the Silver Dragon Maid.”

“Darling.”

“...Fine. I’ll cook for you. But if you waste it, I swear I’ll shred *you* next.”

Roswitha got out of bed, dragging her battle-weary body toward the kitchen.

She tied on an apron and began prepping the ingredients.

As she sliced ham cubes, Leon quietly appeared beside her.

Glancing at him from the corner of her eye, Roswitha noticed that the idiot had donned an apron as well and was slicing up some meat.

The queen grinned but made no comment.

Night quietly descended, and the warm glow of the kitchen bathed the couple in tranquility as they stood shoulder-to-shoulder, preparing their late-night meal.