Book 3: Chapter 121 (1) |
Though the women were still a bit wary of the humanoid Dragon King before them, she didn’t seem as… ferocious as the legends suggested.
Quite the opposite—this silver-haired beauty’s every word and action was refined. Though somewhat distant, she didn’t make others uncomfortable.
After some bustling, the wig was on.
Roswitha stood in front of the mirror to take a look.
Her first feeling was that it felt unfamiliar.
She’d seen her silver hair for over two hundred years—switching to long black hair out of the blue was bound to feel strange.
As for whether it looked good… Roswitha wasn’t sure.
“Ready? We can head out,”
As soon as he stepped in, his eyes were drawn to Roswitha, her black hair cascading like a waterfall.
Like her, his first reaction was that it felt unfamiliar.
But when Roswitha turned around, Leon could only think of two words to describe his wife:
Stunning.
The black hair accentuated her milk-white, tender skin, the stark contrast elevating her already radiant face to a new level of beauty.
Soft lighting spilled over her profile, making her look like a perfect creation stepped out of a painting.
“Does it look good?” Roswitha asked softly.
Leon snapped back to reality. This time, he didn’t play tough, answering honestly,
“It looks good.”
“Oh, you actually said what’s in your heart? I thought you’d dance around it a dozen times before admitting it looks good,” Roswitha teased with a smile.
Seeing the Mother Dragon’s smug expression, Leon quickly backtracked,
“Actually, I think it’s just okay.”
“Then why’d you say it looks good?” Roswitha tilted her head slightly, black strands falling, giving her a playful, charming look.
Leon’s face flushed, “Whether it’s good or not, I’ll decide for myself.”
“Hmph.”
“The disguise is complete. You two can head out anytime. We’ll take our leave.”
The women gave Leon a slight nod of respect, then left the room.
Roswitha twirled a strand of black hair around her finger as she walked toward Leon,
“Do you think I look better with black hair or silver hair?”
Leon thought for a moment, then replied, “Silver hair.”
After all, that was General Leon’s lifelong *XP*.
“Oh? So you’re saying I don’t look good now?”
“…You look good now too.”
“So, silver hair or black hair—which is better?”
“How about I shave you bald? What do you think?”
Roswitha chuckled, no longer teasing him, and turned her attention to a piece of leather paper in his hand.
“What’s that?”
Leon spread the leather paper on the table—it was a map, marked with red lines and circles indicating streets and various locations.
“Rebecca marked out safe routes and places we can freely enter. As long as we stick to these areas, we won’t have to worry about being spotted.”
Roswitha nodded, “Very thorough.”
“Yeah… I didn’t expect the Lionheart Society to grow this organized in just a few years. Thanks to Master and Rebecca.”
Leon folded the map and tucked it into his pocket, then weighed the wallet at his waist,
“This is our procurement budget for this fieldwork.”
Roswitha blinked, asking knowingly, “Not date funding?”
At that, General Leon instantly went into serious mode, declaring righteously,
“Wh-what date?! We’re just going out to procure recording stones, that’s all.”
“Alright, let’s go already.”
Roswitha’s rare enthusiasm for something piqued Leon’s curiosity.
But he didn’t ask more, just led her out through the Lionheart Society’s back door.
They were currently in the Empire’s Slum District, where movement was essentially unrestricted—no need to worry about patrols.
Of course, the desolate Slum District offered little worth strolling through.
Leon planned to follow the map’s markings and take Roswitha to the Lower and Mid-Districts for a walk.
And, as Nacho had suggested, to revisit this homeland he hadn’t seen in years.
…
In the afternoon, the couple walked side by side down the streets of the Lower District.
It was far livelier than the Slum District, with various stalls and shops lining the streets.
Roswitha stood to Leon’s right, hands neatly clasped in front, wearing a dark long dress specially prepared by the Lionheart Society, paired with Martin boots. With her restrained, elegant black hair, she looked every bit the refined young lady.
A beauty is a beauty—no matter the makeup or clothes, nothing could suppress her overflowing charm.
Along the way, she kept glancing at the street scenes.
Everything here was incredibly novel to Roswitha.
Children playing marbles by the roadside, old stalls selling pinwheels, and all sorts of snacks and foods she’d never seen.
Even stray cats and dogs caught her interest.
When Leon finished buying some recording stones at a magic item shop and turned around, he found Roswitha squatting at a street corner, playing with two adorable cats.
He walked over and asked,
“Don’t dragons have a habit of keeping pets?”
“You lived with me for five years. Did you ever see cats, dogs, or the like?” Roswitha asked.
Leon thought back and realized he hadn’t.
Digging further into his memories, animals like cats, dogs, or donkeys only appeared in dragon textbooks.
He even recalled Muen, when she was little, asking him what a donkey was.