Shut Up, Malevolent Dragon! I Don’t Want to Have Any More Children With You

Vol 8. Chapter 46: Keh-heh~ Keh-heh~

Human Empire, outskirts of the Blackwood Forest.

Rosvisser didn’t disappoint — they reached their destination within an hour.

Leon stood on the branch of a towering tree, squinting toward the brilliant lights of the imperial capital in the distance. A thousand thoughts swirled in his mind — nostalgia, hesitation, unease. But no matter what he felt, the time for second-guessing was long gone.

After taking a deep breath to steady himself, Leon turned toward Rosvisser — only to find her perched on another ancient tree, staring at the bark and prodding at it with the heel of her shoe.

He frowned.

“What are you doing?”

Rosvisser lifted her skirt slightly, pressing her heel into the branch. The wood creaked and cracked under her step.

“Oh, nothing... just checking. It’s a little broken.”

Leon blinked, unimpressed.

“Broken? You’ve only been here once before, right? What’s there to be nostalgic about?”

The queen didn’t answer. She just kept lightly pressing on the bark with her heel.

As the faint crack-crack echoed through the night, she closed her eyes, a subtle, satisfied smile curving her lips.

Meanwhile, in the viewing chamber:

“Big sis, what’s Mom doing?” Moon asked, tilting her head.

Even the “Study Queen” looked lost.

“I... don’t really know. Moon, any ideas?”

Moon shook her head hard, like a rattled maraca.

“If it’s something only dragons would get, it’s probably something she and Dad did before I was born. No way I’d know.”

“...Oh. Right.”

None of the girls would ever know just how much “suffering” their dear mother had once endured on that same tree branch.

Leon didn’t ask further.

He’d long accepted that dragon logic ran on a frequency entirely different from his own.

“Alright, nostalgia time’s over,” Rosvisser said at last.

She spread her silver wings and floated up beside him, then raised her slender wrists toward him.

Leon raised an eyebrow.

“What’s this supposed to mean?”

“You can put the anti-magic chains back on me. That way you won’t have to worry about me running away or attacking you.”

She cast a sidelong glance at his waist.

“I know you’ve been holding onto them the whole time. Let’s save everyone the trouble — I’ll cooperate.”

Her tone was so matter-of-fact it made him hesitate. He reached for the chains... then stopped halfway.

Finally, he lowered his hand and turned away.

“No need. I trust you won’t run. Or attack me.”

Rosvisser’s lips curved slightly.

“Oh? And why this sudden trust?”

Leon said nothing. He couldn’t even explain it to himself.

Seeing that, Rosvisser smiled and took a small, playful step forward, hands clasped behind her back, silver hair falling over her shoulder. She looked for all the world like a mischievous schoolgirl.

“Oh~ I get it now,” she teased. “It’s not trust.”

“...What?”

“It’s that you’ve fallen for me~ right— mmph!”

Before she could finish, Leon clapped a hand over her mouth.

She pulled away, swatting his hand aside.

“Come on, just admit it! What’s with the hand thing?”

Leon rolled his eyes skyward and decided she wasn’t worth the argument.

He looked toward the capital — judging by the moon’s position, dawn was still six hours away.

They had to find something before sunrise.

Realizing he wasn’t in the mood to banter, Rosvisser finally sobered. She looked at the glowing city and said quietly:

“Alright, how do we get in? Any ideas?”

Leon watched the steady flow of wagons and pedestrians at the main gate and smirked.

“Maybe. Depends how strong your core muscles are.”

“Core... muscles?”

A few minutes later, Rosvisser, hanging beneath a merchant wagon, hissed through clenched teeth:

“This is your brilliant plan? I’m practically kissing the ground here!”

Leon, also clinging beneath the carriage, shot back:

“Strange, I’m not touching the ground at all.”

“Because look at you, then look at me! Do the math!”

Thus was reborn a time-honored Melkvey family tradition — carriage-hitch infiltration.

To be fair, Leon had used this same trick nearly twenty years ago when he first snuck back into the Empire alone. Even thirty years later — in another timeline — he was still using it.

Apparently, “carriage-hitching” was encoded somewhere deep in his DNA.

He just hadn’t accounted for the... anatomical complications of bringing Rosvisser along.

(Future daughters Moon & Noa: “We definitely didn’t inherit that problem from Mom! QAQ”)

Still, it worked. Under cover of night, the two managed to crawl into the cargo carriage itself, breathing a little easier.

Rosvisser tilted her head.

“But why are there merchants entering the capital at midnight? Don’t your Empire’s workers ever rest?”

Leon leaned back against a crate.

“Some caravans prefer night deliveries — fewer people on the roads. Restaurants and taverns stock their ingredients before dawn to serve fresh food.”

“Ohh, I see.” She nodded. “So when do we get off? To investigate, we’ll need to reach the inner palace, right?”

“There are two barriers,” Leon explained. “The outer gate of the main city, and the palace barrier itself — only royal magi know the unlocking spell. If we force our way in, we’ll be detected instantly.”

“Then what? If we can’t get into the palace, this whole trip’s a waste.”

That stumped even Leon. He sat in the corner, frowning in thought.

Then the carriage jolted. A crate tipped over, its lid bursting open.

Leon looked — inside were rolls of the finest silk, clearly imported.

He touched the fabric, a knowing smile forming on his lips.

“Well, would you look at that, Rosvisser.”

“You... called me Rosvisser?”

“These are tribute silks from foreign city-states. You know what that means?”

“You did call me Rosvisser.”

“It means this caravan’s bound for the imperial palace itself. If we stay put, we can sneak right in through the front— wait, what’s wrong?”

By the time he noticed, Rosvisser’s face was already inches from his.

For the first time, they were that close — so close he could feel her breath.

Silver and black eyes locked in the dim carriage light.

Rosvisser’s voice came barely above a whisper.

“You just called me... Rosvisser?”

Leon froze, realizing their proximity. He jerked back to his corner.

“I—did I? You must’ve misheard. I said Melkvey.”

“No, you definitely said Rosvisser.”

For the past month, he’d only ever called her “Melkvey” — her clan name, a formality even between comrades. But she was certain this time — he’d said her name.

Seeing her so confident, Leon sighed in defeat.

“Fine, fine. I said Rosvisser. Happy now?”

“...Rosvisser,” she repeated softly.

“Say it gently,” she teased.

Leon inhaled sharply.

“We’re about to break into the Empire, and you want me to practice your name right now?! I don’t even— how am I supposed to—”

Rosvisser laughed, bright and genuine, as his flustered rant echoed in the carriage.

Finally, she leaned back with a smirk.

“Alright then. But once this is all over, you will call me that — properly, and nicely.”

“Yeah, yeah— wait, why would I agree to that?! We’re not even— hey, don’t just change the subject!”

Rosvisser turned away with exaggerated innocence.

“So... if we just stay in this carriage, we’ll get right into the palace, won’t we?”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t hear my question, you damned dragon!”