Vol. 6 Ch. 12

Leon and the Silver Dragon Queen’s agreement wasn’t just about experiencing their first date.

To be precise, the date was only one part of a much larger arrangement.

It all began long ago, when Her Majesty, the Queen, became obsessed with romance novels.

As everyone in the dragon clans knew, their queen was a bona fide workaholic.

Before marrying Leon, her days were entirely consumed by work—either at her job or traveling to it.

It wasn’t until after their wedding that Her Majesty finally found some leisure time and hobbies.

Of course, this didn’t change her workaholic nature. She continued managing internal clan affairs daily.

However, as the marriage progressed, the Queen noticeably “softened” and became less aloof toward Leon. Her smiles grew more frequent, and her demeanor gentler.

This newfound balance led her to explore other ways to relax.

Besides sneaking off to rendezvous with the Prince Consort, she secretly indulged in reading sweet romance novels.

She never dared reveal this little hobby to anyone but Leon.

When he once asked her why, she replied, “To maintain the dignity of a queen.”

General Leon: Speechless.

And as everyone knows, no romance novel is complete without one essential theme—

“When love runs deep, it naturally leads to… intimacy.”

As for how it’s done, how long it lasts, how many times it happens, or how detailed it gets—that depends entirely on the author’s skill.

Beyond the tear-jerking love stories, Rosvisser paid particular attention to the "emotional intensity" scenes.

Before Leon, Rosvisser knew nothing about the art of love.

After marrying him, she didn’t truly soften; rather, she felt it was her duty as a wife to embrace her body’s needs and their marriage’s long-term goals.

On top of that, her natural curiosity about the meaning of pleasure drove her to explore such things.

And as the saying goes, “Books hold golden treasures.” If one wants to excel at intimacy, creativity, and making it unforgettable, one might as well gather ideas from romance novels.

Thus, Her Majesty began jotting down all the quirky scenarios, methods, and plots she encountered in her readings in a small notebook.

She even made an agreement with Leon that they would try every method listed.

This ambitious plan, expected to take at least ten years to complete, was dubbed:

The Ascension Project—an endeavor involving various "assignments" over a decade. General Leon, truly a legendary man.

One evening, not long after one of their children’s trips, the couple sat together in bed.

While casually discussing daily life and intimacy, something suddenly came to Rosvisser’s mind.

She got up abruptly, opened the bedside drawer, and pulled out a notebook.

The first page listed completed entries:

Scenario: Waking Sleeping Beauty — Completed ✔

Ice Cube Kisses — Completed ✔

Blindfold Dance — Completed ✔

(Note: Laughing by the second attempt. Highly suspicious that the sly man peeked under the blindfold.)

Scenario: The Slave Girl and the Melkvey Lord — Completed ✔

Scenario: The Saintess and the Priest — Not Completed.

“Leon, I want to finish this one,” Rosvisser declared, pointing to the unfinished entry for The Saintess and the Priest, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Leon glanced at the notebook, reading its brief summary:

An unscrupulous priest abuses his power and authority to humiliate a subordinate saintess.

If enacted by the couple, it would involve the classic "man on top, woman beneath" dynamic.

Leon raised an eyebrow. “Why this one? You’re usually not into these kinds of scenarios.”

In most cases, Rosvisser preferred being the dominant player.

With a mischievous grin, Rosvisser replied, “Why not? Think about it—a pious saintess forced to unite with a corrupt priest. Such twisted, dark character dynamics! Don’t you find it intriguing?”

“...Has your mind become slightly twisted from all these scenarios lately?”

Whack—

Rosvisser smacked Leon with a pillow, her tone turning sharp. “Hmph! Forget it if you don’t want to play. Here I was, ready to praise you, and instead, you call me twisted.”

Leon immediately raised the white flag, sitting up straight and grinning. “Alright, alright. This one it is. I never said no, did I?”

Rosvisser shot him a playful glare, feigning indignation. But as she turned away, a sly, triumphant smile crept across her face.

“We haven’t prepared any props,” Leon pointed out.

“Props? We’re so experienced now; who needs them? Just use your words to humiliate me, Priest~”

Leon: ?

“You’re already in character?”

Leon had once thought that dragon queens grew lazier after marriage. But now, it seemed their penchant for theatrics only grew stronger.

Since his wife was so into it, Leon adjusted his mindset and prepared for his role as the priest.

Clearing his throat, he adopted a deep, commanding tone. “Sister Melkvey, do you know why you’ve been summoned here tonight?”

Kneeling before Leon, Rosvisser clasped her hands neatly on her lap, lowered her head, and answered softly, “No, Father.”

“Oh? You don’t know?”

Leon reached out, gently lifting Rosvisser’s chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You look far more beautiful tonight than usual.”

“Th-thank you for your praise, Father… It’s getting late. I should… probably leave now.”

“Leave? And where do you think you’re going?”

Leon’s tone grew harsher, his movements more forceful.

He pushed Rosvisser onto the bed. Her cascading silver hair spilled across the sheets, gleaming under the lamplight.

The strap of her nightgown slid down her shoulder, revealing part of her chest. Combined with her delicate, expressive face, she perfectly embodied the image of a saintess overwhelmed by a domineering priest.

“Father, why are you doing this?”

“Enough chatter. I’ve been watching you for a long time, Sister Melkvey.”

Leon delivered his lines with conviction, fully immersed in the role.

For the couple, any lingering embarrassment had long since become part of the fun, enhancing their enjoyment of the performance.

“If you want to survive in this church, you’ll obey me tonight. Understood, Sister?”

“Th-this isn’t right… Please, Father, let me go…”

“It’s too late, Sister Melkvey. Tonight, you’ll learn that being a saintess isn’t as pure as it seems.”

The familiar pattern of threats, power dynamics, and shifting roles continued—until the unexpected happened.

“Father! I… I have evidence of your sins! If you dare touch me, I’ll expose it to everyone!”

Leon froze. That wasn’t part of the script.

Still, improvisation was the spice of life, so he decided to play along. “Oh? Evidence? What evidence?”

“Hmph! Evidence of all your wicked deeds!”

With that, Rosvisser pulled a few photos from beneath the pillow and tossed them onto the bed.

Leon looked down at the photos Rosvisser had thrown at him. To his astonishment, they were all pictures from their previous "scenario plays," taken after their intimate reenactments.

There was one with Rosvisser in a princess gown and Leon dressed as a knight.

Another depicted the Queen alongside the "General of a Defeated Nation."

And yet another showed her holding a whip, playing the role of a captor disciplining her prisoner.

All the photos were staged like portraits, with carefully arranged poses and lighting, creating an artistic atmosphere.

“Using these sweet, sentimental photos as props for this scenario feels a bit… unconventional,” Leon muttered to himself.

Still, it wasn’t a serious performance, so he didn’t dwell on it.

“You think these photos are enough to threaten me?”

Leon let out a cold chuckle. “Too naive. These photos prove nothing. You can’t even take them out of this room.”

“Oh?” Rosvisser’s lips curled into a sly smile. “Do you think I only prepared these photos?”

Leon froze.

“What… what do you mean?”

His reaction wasn’t just from surprise at the unexpected twist in their play. Her words stirred a distant memory.

Using photos as “leverage” and preparing multiple copies—

It sounded eerily similar to an old contingency plan he had never anticipated being used.

“What’s wrong, Father? Are you scared of me now?”

Rosvisser’s expression shifted from that of a timid saintess to a mischievous schemer, her eyes sparkling with cunning. “If you don’t kneel and kiss my foot right now, I might just let you sober up a little before continuing.”

“Kneel and kiss your foot? Ha! Keep dreaming!”

Leon’s voice brimmed with defiance. Despite knowing Rosvisser’s penchant for dominance, he couldn’t resist playing along with her provocations.

“Well then, Father, if you’re so bold, I suppose I’ll just have to release these photos,” she teased. “When that happens, everyone will know who you really are. You’ll become a laughingstock, a pariah. Even dreaming of touching my feet would be impossible!”

Leon gritted his teeth. “Fine. You’ve asked for it. If this is the grand finale, Sister Melkvey, don’t blame me for what happens next!”

Rosvisser’s grin widened, triumphant. “Oh? And what do you intend to do?”

“Do you think only you have incriminating evidence? I have some as well! Before you became a saintess, weren’t you famously a bunny girl?”

The accusation was absurd, but Rosvisser’s reaction was even more dramatic—she laughed, her expression growing even more alluring.

“Bunny girl? That’s ancient history. You can’t possibly have proof.”

“Oh, can’t I?” Leon leaned in closer, falling deeper into her trap.

“And if you do?” she challenged.

“If I do, then tonight, you’re mine to command,” Leon declared confidently.

Rosvisser tilted her head, her smile sharp. “And if you don’t?”

Leon hesitated but replied, “If I don’t… then I’ll submit to you completely.”

“Deal, Father~” Rosvisser purred.

Leon smirked, confident in his claim. He got up and rushed out of the bedroom.

Ten minutes later, he returned, a hint of unease creeping into his demeanor.

Rosvisser lay on the bed, her long legs draped elegantly over the edge. Her silver eyes sparkled as she softly asked, “So, where’s your evidence, Father?”

Leon’s lips tightened. “I’ll find it. Just wait!”

He turned and left again.

Another ten minutes passed. When he returned, he was sweating and visibly shaken.

“Father,” Rosvisser teased, her voice sweet but taunting. “If you can’t find your so-called evidence soon, you’ll have to honor our little agreement~”

“Just one more chance!” Leon pleaded. “Let me try one last time!”

Rosvisser raised an eyebrow but gestured for him to go.

This time, Leon was gone for twenty minutes. When he returned, his face was ashen, his pupils unfocused.

“No… impossible… The photos… they’re all gone. I hid them so carefully years ago. How could—”

“Are you looking for these, Father?”

Leon’s head snapped up at her voice.

In her hands, Rosvisser held three pristine photos of her past self as a bunny girl. Her expression was one of pure victory.

Thunderstruck, Leon froze.

It felt like a bolt of lightning had struck him, more devastating than watching his divine powers stripped away.

“How… how did you—”

“Don’t worry about how I got them,” Rosvisser replied, her voice dripping with mockery. “You told me you burned these, didn’t you? So… what are these?”

“Uh… well… you see, my Queen, I’m a sentimental man. I kept them to reminisce about our fond memories together.”

“Oh, my dear husband, how thoughtful of you~” Rosvisser cooed, her voice laced with sarcasm.

Before Leon could reply, a small flame ignited in Rosvisser’s hand, consuming the photos in an instant.

At that moment, something inside Leon shattered.

Was it his hope?

His pride?

No, it was the last shred of his authority and dignity in their relationship.

With a dramatic leap, Leon climbed back onto the bed, kneeling before Rosvisser with tears brimming in his eyes. “My Queen, will you at least hear my explanation?”

“Of course, my dear husband.”

“Well, then—”

“Not right now,” she interrupted, cutting him off with a wicked grin.

Slowly, Rosvisser extended one of her long legs, resting her elegant foot before him. “Now, Father, will this be your reward, or shall I crush you underfoot? The choice is yours~”

“Is this… a reward?” Leon asked hesitantly.

“Let’s call it that,” she replied, laughing softly. “Every condemned man deserves a last meal before the execution.”

Her silver eyes gleamed mischievously. “Now, let’s fulfill our little agreement~~~”

In the end, the schemer lost.

The would-be "god" of their playful scenarios could only fall in defeat.

And somewhere, deep within the void, shadowy figures stirred.

“Has the time come for us to act? Shall we show the primitive beings of Samael a glimpse of the void’s true power?”

Seated on a throne lined with cruel spikes, a massive, ominous figure held a blood-red greatsword adorned with a single, malevolent eye.

“No,” the shadowy figure intoned, his voice ancient and commanding.

“But, my lord, Tiamat’s power has completely dissipated. Samael has lost its last god. Surely, this is the perfect moment to—”

“Who said Tiamat was the last god of Samael?”

“What? My lord, I don’t understand…”

The figure’s eyes opened, revealing the same terrifying brilliance as the sword’s eye. His voice grew sharper, each word laced with power.

“Her primal divine essence may have long faded, but—

The first has awakened. She has broken Samael’s web of time.”

“This act has triggered the return of Kronos, one of Samael’s primordial gods.”

The shadow leaned forward, his presence suffocating. “Though weakened and nearing its end, Kronos will unleash its fury upon the fool who dared meddle with the dominion of time.”

“Will this end with the collapse of the Web of Time, or will the wrath of the gods consume everything?”

“We’ll find out soon enough.”