After the couple finished checking in, they went upstairs and found their room according to the number on the key card.

Standing in front of the door, both of them felt a slight twinge of nervousness.

Although their absolutely convincing, Oscar-worthy performance had successfully led the other to believe that they were both "forced by circumstances" to share a room, neither of them had taken the time to discuss what kind of room the receptionist—an innocent-looking, cheerful young lady—might have assigned them.

Would it be a heavily themed S&M suite filled with all sorts of props? Or perhaps a romantic rose-petaled waterbed room?

Click.

The key slid into the lock, and with a gentle twist, the door opened.

With both nervousness and anticipation, the couple stepped inside.

What greeted them was a tidy room with a plush, circular bed draped in delicate chiffon. The comforting aroma of lavender wafted through the air.

No bizarre props. No bathtubs overflowing with rose petals.

Seeing this, Leon and Roswitha both quietly let out a sigh of relief.

Thankfully, it seemed tonight would be a peaceful one.

After all, we've been married for five years now. All those over-the-top, dramatic setups don’t really suit us—

At least that’s what this husband-and-wife duo, who regularly indulged in "plays" of captives, teachers, and bunny-girl waitresses, told themselves.

Yet, amidst their mutual relief, there was a small, unspoken hint of disappointment.

The longing for forbidden thrills and excitement... Perhaps that was a primal instinct buried deep in the bones of every living being.

Leon stepped into the room and drew the curtains, shutting out the moonlight and the city's noise.

The room was illuminated with a soft, warm orange glow, cozy and inviting.

Roswitha pushed open the frosted glass door of the bathroom and peeked inside.

Satisfied with what she saw, she turned to Leon and asked, “You want to shower first, or should I?”

“Ladies first,” he replied.

The queen raised an eyebrow. “Oh? How gentlemanly of you.”

General Leon puffed out his chest with mock pride, rubbing his nose as if he were the most noble man alive. He raised his thumb and said, “Of course! Didn’t you see me back at the reception? I wasn’t even trying to take advantage of you—I asked for two rooms, didn’t I? But alas, only one was left. What can a gentleman do?”

Roswitha snorted, inwardly scoffing at his act.

*This smug bastard,* she thought. *If it weren’t for my sharp wits and unparalleled graciousness, you wouldn’t even dream of staying in a hotel room with me.*

“Yeah,” she replied with a feigned tone of regret. “It’s such a pity the hotel didn’t give you the chance to display the full extent of your gentlemanly restraint.”

Leon chuckled, satisfied with the banter. Internally, he thought, *The little dragoness is so easy to deceive. A minor diversion, and I’ve already got her wrapped around my finger.*

The two exchanged their playful pretense without giving the other even a glimpse of the truth.

After a bit more lighthearted chatter, Roswitha let go of the bathroom’s glass door handle.

“You go first,” she said. “I need some time to summarize the key points from today’s meeting.”

Leon nodded. “Alright.”

Taking her word, Leon headed off to the bathroom.

As the sound of running water began, Roswitha walked to the wardrobe and picked out a white bathrobe, slipping it on.

Freeing herself from her long dress and high heels allowed her to relax noticeably.

She then moved to the wooden desk, pulled out some paper and a pen, and began jotting down notes while recalling the earlier discussions at their secret meeting.

Though her memory was sharp, she believed nothing compared to writing things down. After all, there was wisdom in the old adage: “The faintest ink is better than the sharpest mind.”

About half an hour later, the water in the bathroom ceased.

Leon walked out, with a bath towel wrapped around his waist, revealing his perfectly sculpted V-taper torso. Water droplets clung to his muscles, trailing down beautifully as they fell.

Roswitha’s gaze flicked up for a mere moment before she looked away.

Then she glanced again, fleetingly, and turned away.

Then once more, briefly, and then yet again.

And then—

“If you want to look,” Leon said while drying his hair with a towel, “just look openly. Stop sneaking peeks like a thief.”

Roswitha’s face flushed crimson. “Who would want to look? I’ve seen it more times than I can count! There’s nothing new here!”

Her words came out in a hurried rush, after which she quickly stood up and darted toward the bathroom, her head low and her steps hurried and flustered.

Leon smiled lightly, choosing not to tease her further.

He moved to the bed and noticed a bookshelf nearby, where a collection of magazines and novels were neatly arranged.

Leon flipped through some casually. They were primarily entertainment gossip or romance stories—nothing particularly compelling.

After all, there probably weren’t any tabloid stories more dramatic than the legendary romance of Leon and Roswitha, the man-and-dragon love saga the entire world knew of.

As for those romance books...

General Leon skimmed through one for a few moments, then clicked his tongue disapprovingly. Comparing its contents to his daily life with Roswitha, he concluded disdainfully:

“This isn’t sweet at all.”

Not even half as sweet as their story.

Setting the book back, Leon shifted his gaze to the nightstand next to the bed.

In addition to a few bottles of drinks provided by the hotel, there were some... intriguing little items he didn’t immediately recognize.

Leon picked up a small brown bottle and gave it a gentle shake. Judging by the sound, it contained some kind of liquid.

Flipping to the back, he found the product description.

"Silky smooth enjoyment—"Durax" Ultra Glide formula, lubricating with ultimate comfort."

He read aloud, curious about the finer details. Then his eyes caught an additional note:

“Attention: edible.”

“Edible?”

“Huh—!”

Leon froze for a second, and realization hit him like a bolt of lightning.

Despite being married for five years, Leon’s limited experience with hotels meant he didn’t realize that “couples’ tools” were essentially standard in most rooms.

At that moment, Roswitha finished her shower.

The frosted glass door swung open, and first, long and slender legs stepped gracefully onto the soft carpet, followed by her petite, delicate feet. Her skin glistened smooth and flawless, with water droplets sliding down her shapely legs.

Her silver hair clung faintly to her cheeks and shoulders, and her makeup had been completely removed, leaving her bare-faced—yet, even in her natural state, Roswitha’s beauty was utterly breathtaking.

Her long eyelashes were still damp, fluttering like soft feathers from her delicate blinks, lending her an unexpectedly adorable appearance.

Her slightly loose bathrobe revealed not only her swan-like slender neck, but also a faint glimpse of a tempting curve...

Nestled within the valley of her chest was the shimmering silver Dragon Mark.

Leon’s gaze brushed over her once, then turned away.

A second glance... then turned away.

Another look... and turned away again.

And then—

“If you want to look,” Roswitha suddenly said, throwing his earlier mockery right back at him with precision, “just look openly. Stop sneaking peeks like a thief.”

Leon smirked. “I wasn’t sneaking. I'm admiring.’”

Roswitha cocked an eyebrow and moved over to sit lightly beside him.

"Is that what you gentlemen prefer to call it—admiration?”

“Correction,” he shot back. “Admiring one’s wife doesn’t count as sneaking.”

“Let me correct you,” she retorted coolly, “I’m just your fake wife.”

“Even a fake wife is still a wife.”

“Hmph—”

Roswitha chuckled softly, covering her mouth with her hand. “Call it whatever you like.”

Her laughter stopped when her eyes fell on the small item in Leon’s hand. “What’s that?”

“Uh... Couples’ enhancement accessory?” Leon said hesitantly.

“Couples? Enhancement?”

Roswitha reached to take the item from him, scanning the label herself. It didn’t take long for her to understand its purpose.

“Ah... it really is something to heat up the occasion...”

Though they were no strangers to “turning in homework” in countless innovative ways, using such props wasn’t something they often indulged in.

“There’s more,” Leon noted, his curiosity growing. The two then turned their attention to another small item.

“‘Breathless, as if caught by a serpent’s embrace—"Durax" Flexible Neck Rings for an entirely new and thrilling experience.’”

“Look at this one!” Roswitha’s eyes lit up. “‘Heavenly sensations like nothing you’ve felt before—"Durax" Starlight Dragon Mint, elevating pleasure to a whole new level.’”

Leon blinked. “Dragon Mint? What’s that?”

“Think catnip—for dragons.”

“I’ve heard of catnip. Cats love it—they just rub on it nonstop.”

“Yes, Dragon Mint has a similar effect. It relaxes us and...”

Leon’s devious grin visibly widened as he shook the bottle of Dragon Mint. “What do you say, shall we—”

“No.” Roswitha immediately held up a metaphorical stop sign with her firm tone.

The last thing she wanted was to turn into a clingy little kitten in front of Leon.

She was a queen. A noble dragon!

“Look at the next one,” she instructed, nodding toward the other displayed items.

Leon picked up yet another box.

“‘Explosive satisfaction, boundless vigor—"Durax" Power Boost Set, equivalent to... Black Dragon Bolus?!’”

“This is the one!” Roswitha teased, suddenly energized. “Leon, your stamina isn’t what it used to be. This is exactly what you need!”

Leon rolled his eyes. “Who says my stamina isn’t what it used to be? Every time we ‘turn in homework,’ don’t we battle till dawn? Besides—”

“Besides what?”

“I can practice Black Dragon Bolus myself. Who needs this junk?”

With that, he disdainfully set the item back.

Roswitha chuckled lightly.

Mention of “battling till dawn” reminded her to glance at the clock on the wall—it was nearing midnight.

“Let’s sleep. It’s been a long day with back-to-back meetings.”

“Alright.”

With their moves, both of them glanced toward the sofa on the other end of the room.

The sofa was perfectly sized to accommodate a sleeping adult.

Logically, as a “gentleman”, General Leon ought to volunteer himself to the sofa;

Meanwhile, the “sexless queen” Roswitha should command her captive to take his rest there.

But!

In the next second, the couple tacitly and completely ignored the existence of that sofa!

What sofa?

Didn’t see it.

Isn’t there only one bed in the room?

Ah, once again, what a helpless situation—it seems they had no choice but to squeeze onto the same bed with their pseudo-spouse.

They climbed into bed and slipped under the covers. Leon and Roswitha lay back-to-back.

Between them was a gap that spanned more than half the bed.

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Ten minutes later.

"Leon."

"What?"

"My back feels a little itchy. Can you... help me check?"

Turning in homework doesn’t really need any excuse;

But some couples just enjoy the process of coming up with excuses.