Though the midtown and lower districts of the Empire had members of the Lionheart Association acting as undercover agents, as Rebecca had mentioned, if Leon and Roswitha truly wanted to go out for a stroll, they would still need to employ some disguises.

And it had to be during specific times.

Thus, in a private room of the Lionheart Association, Leon and Roswitha, under the guidance of a few ladies, began their disguise preparations for this outing.

Leon’s disguise was relatively simple—just a pair of sunglasses and a change in attire would suffice.

But when it came to Roswitha, things became a tad more challenging.

First of all, the Queen’s hair color was far too distinctive. While there were a few rare instances of silver hair in the Empire, they were indeed exceedingly uncommon. Walking down the streets with her radiant silver locks would undoubtedly attract unnecessary attention.

Moreover, the ladies in charge of makeup quickly realized this client was unlike anyone they’d worked with before. Roswitha’s artful face looked stunning no matter the style—be it light makeup, heavy makeup, or any other transformation. Her unparalleled beauty was simply impossible to hide.

And finally, upon learning that they were tasked with applying makeup for a Dragon Queen, the ladies were downright terrified.

Goodness gracious, they were used to doing disguises for undercover members in the Lionheart Association, like turning Nacho into a beggar, for example.

But to do makeup for a Dragon Queen... that was uncharted territory, to say the least.

Roswitha, naturally perceptive, noticed the ladies’ hesitation and did not make things difficult for them.

“I can do it myself. Thank you for your efforts.”

With that, Roswitha picked up a comb and began grooming her hair.

She wanted to create a low-profile hairstyle.

Perhaps it would be best to tie all her hair up?

Watching her from the side, the ladies exchanged anxious glances.

After a short but intense silent debate, one of them finally stepped forward and hesitantly spoke up,

“W-we have some different styles of wigs. Would you like to have a look?”

Her voice, devoid of any formal address at the beginning or end of the sentence, carried a hint of impoliteness. But given the circumstances, she could hardly be blamed. After all, how were you supposed to address a Dragon Queen?

Roswitha arched her elegant brows. “Wigs? Hmm, sure.”

“Alright. Midi, fetch the wigs.”

“Okay.”

In no time, a selection of wigs in various styles was brought over.

Roswitha began sorting through them carefully.

Eventually, her gaze settled on a sleek, long, straight black wig.

“This one.”

“Black hair is certainly the most inconspicuous choice,” one of the ladies remarked.

Low-profile indeed.

Though, the real reason Roswitha chose the black wig... was simply that she liked black.

It reminded her of someone’s hair color.

“Let us help you put it on,” one of the ladies said.

“Alright. Thank you.”

Though still somewhat intimidated by the Dragon Queen before them, the ladies gradually found her not as ferocious as the legends made Dragon Clan out to be.

On the contrary, the silver-haired beauty radiated a dignified composure and maintained a courteous demeanor. While she kept others at arm’s length, she did not make those around her feel uneasy.

After a flurry of activity, the wig was finally in place.

Roswitha stood before the mirror and took a look.

Her immediate reaction was mild unaccustomedness.

After all, she had lived with her silver hair for over two centuries. To suddenly swap it for long black locks was certainly a strange adjustment.

As for whether she thought she looked good in it... Roswitha couldn’t quite say for sure.

“Are you ready? We can leave now,” Leon said as he walked into the room.

The moment his eyes fell on Roswitha, her jet-black hair cascading in soft waves, even he was momentarily taken aback.

Like her, his first reaction was that it looked unusual.

But as she turned to face him, Leon found only two words to describe his wife in that moment:

Utterly breathtaking.

The stark contrast of her black hair highlighted her porcelain, milk-white skin, and the interplay of light and shadow on her face elevated her already radiant beauty to a new level.

The soft lamplight caressed her profile, making her appear as though she’d stepped right out of a masterpiece.

“Does it look good?” Roswitha asked softly.

Leon snapped out of his reverie and, for once, didn’t try to deflect. Instead, he gave an honest reply.

“It looks good.”

“Oh? Speaking your mind so directly? I thought you’d go on a long roundabout before admitting it looks good.” Roswitha teased with a playful smile.

Caught off guard by her smug look, Leon quickly amended his statement.

“Well, actually, I think it’s just... alright.”

“Then why did you say it looks good?” Roswitha tilted her head ever so slightly, her black hair falling to one side, lending her an air of cheeky charm.

Leon’s slightly reddened face betrayed him. “Whether it looks good or not is for me to decide.”

“Hmph.”

With their disguises complete, the makeup artists gave a courteous nod to Leon and respectfully excused themselves.

“You think I look better with black hair, or silver?” Roswitha asked, walking up to Leon while twirling a strand of her black hair around her finger.

Leon pondered for a moment. “Silver.”

After all, General Leon had been weak to silver hair since he was a boy.

“So... you’re saying I don’t look good now?” she asked with a playful growl.

“...You look good now, too.”

“Then which is better, silver or black?” she continued to push.

“Should I just shave your head and save us both the trouble?” Leon countered with a deadpan expression.

Roswitha chuckled, letting him off the hook, and shifted her attention to the parchment he carried.

“What’s that?”

Leon unfolded the parchment on the table—a map, marked with red lines and circles denoting safe routes and accessible areas.

“Rebecca outlined the secure paths and the locations we can move freely without raising suspicion,” he explained.

Roswitha nodded in approval. “Thoughtful.”

“Yeah... I didn’t expect the Lionheart Association to develop such an extensive network in just a few years. Master and Rebecca really outdid themselves,” Leon mused while folding the map and tucking it into his pocket.

He then patted the money pouch at his waist.

“This is our purchasing budget for the mission.”

With a mischievous glint in her eye, Roswitha tilted her head. “You mean our dating budget?”

Hearing that, General Leon stiffened slightly, quickly assuming a serious tone.

“W-what date?! We’re just going out to buy some Recording Stones!”

“Alright then, let’s not waste time.”

For once, Roswitha seemed unusually eager, sparking Leon’s curiosity.

Still, he didn’t probe further. Leading his wife out through the back door, they stepped into the Empire’s slums.

This area, the poorest district of the country, was a haven for escape—devoid of patrols, though also absent of attractions worth strolling through.

Leon planned to follow the map’s routes to escort Roswitha to the lower district and possibly midtown for a walk, all while revisiting his old hometown, much as Nacho had suggested.

...

By mid-afternoon, the couple strolled side by side through the lower district streets.

This area was far busier than the slums, teeming with merchants and vendors on either side of the walkways.

Roswitha walked on Leon’s right, her hands clasped neatly in front of her. She wore a dark, modest dress prepared by the Lionheart Association, paired with Martin boots. Her long black hair added an air of elegance to her already graceful demeanor, making her resemble a traditional noblewoman.

True beauty could not be masked. Regardless of the makeup or attire, Roswitha’s radiance shone through.

Throughout their walk, her gaze flitted to various sights and novelties.

Everything was fresh and fascinating to her—the children playing marbles by the street corner, the old stalls selling windmills, and an assortment of street foods she’d never seen before.

Even the stray cats and dogs lounging by the roadsides captured her interest.

When Leon stopped by a magic item shop to purchase some Recording Stones, he turned around to find Roswitha crouched at a nearby corner, playing gently with two adorable cats.

He approached her. “The Dragon Clan doesn’t keep pets, do they?”

“Did you see any cat or dog during the five years you lived with me?” Roswitha shot back.

Leon reflected. No, he hadn’t.

It dawned on him then—whether it was cats, dogs, or even donkeys, these animals were only ever mentioned in Dragon Clan textbooks.

In fact, when Muen was still little, she had once asked Leon what a donkey was.

Roswitha had explained that, given the Dragon Clan’s mighty bloodline, keeping such furry little companions was deemed below their dignity.

Later, in a private complaint, she admitted that this ridiculous rule—caring more about appearances than joy—was a tradition passed down by some foolhardy ancestors.

“Cats are so fun to play with... why can’t we have cats?!” she’d lamented.

Two centuries old, and today marks the first time this queen got to pet a cat.

How tragic.

“Well, then let’s buy one and bring it home,” Leon suggested.

Roswitha blinked, then shook her head. “No. I already have three kittens and one big dumb dog waiting for me at home.”

Leon blinked, confused, before pointing a finger at himself.

“Is the big dumb dog supposed to be me?”

The queen’s smile was serene. “No.”

Leon rolled his eyes.

Roswitha giggled behind her hand before glancing at the shopping bag he held.

“Only these Recording Stones? That’s hardly enough.”

If they were planning to use the resonance of the Recording Stones for the Festival, this amount was clearly insufficient.

Leon nodded. “We’ll need more. But we can’t buy them all from the same store—it’ll look suspicious.”

Roswitha caught on immediately. “Got it. Onward, then?”

“Let’s go.”

However, as soon as they took the first step, Leon’s curiosity got the better of him. As they walked, he couldn’t help but ask,

“Roswitha.”

“Hmm?”

“Why do I get the feeling that you’re... really excited about this trip?”

Roswitha’s steps came to a brief halt. Instead of answering immediately, she smiled and asked back, “Really? Am I that obvious?”

Leon nodded. “Yes. From the moment we left until now, you’ve urged me several times to hurry on to the next place.”

The beauty lowered her gaze slightly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Then she looked up toward the distant street, taking unhurried steps as she answered Leon.

“Ever since the girls went off to Saint Hiss Academy, you’ve been all alone at home.”

“I’m often busy with work and can only occasionally have you sit with me to chat. On one hand, having you by my side gives me peace of mind. On the other hand, I don’t like seeing you wandering the courtyard all by yourself.”

“Later, you started leaving the sanctuary and strolling alone through my tribe’s lands.”

“At first, I didn’t understand why you enjoyed sneaking off like that.”

“But one day, you told me it was because you wanted to walk the paths I’d once walked and see the sights I’d once seen.”

“That day, I had originally wanted to ask you more questions, but you didn’t say anything further.”

Leon was lost in thought as he listened.

When his mind returned to the present, he realized Roswitha had already walked a few steps ahead of him.

He raised his head and looked forward.

Roswitha had her hands clasped behind her back. She playfully turned to walk backward, facing him as she moved.

“This question has stayed with me ever since. Why would you want to walk the paths I walked and see the sights I saw?”

“Today, stepping onto the soil of your homeland, I think I’ve found the answer to that question.”

“To truly understand someone, you can’t just stick close to them in the present. You also have to feel their past and experience the things they’ve been through.”

“I want to know what kind of environment shaped the person you are today.”

“And even more than that…”

She tilted her head slightly, squinting her eyes with a smile. A blush spread across her face as a breeze lifted her long black hair, revealing strands of silver that shimmered like a fringe of light swaying under the night sky.

“I want to know where the person I love comes from.”