In the dungeon, the maid Maureen—or rather, the traitor Maureen—was shackled to a rack with anti-magic chains.

Suddenly, the crisp sound of footsteps echoed from outside the cell.

High heels clicked against the cold stone floor, the sound reverberating through the damp and dark iron cages.

*Creak.*

The cell door opened, and Maureen vaguely heard that familiar, authoritative voice issuing orders to the jailers guarding her.

"Go outside for now. The Prince and I will handle her ourselves."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

The guards responded and tossed the blood-stained vine whip aside, as if to suggest they had left their work unfinished.

Leon’s gaze lingered on the whip briefly, its blood-streaked surface telling the story of the torment that had echoed through the dungeon's walls. Then, he turned his attention to Maureen. This once-loyal servant now resembled a statue crumbling under the weight of betrayal, her disheveled hair framing her pale face. The cold iron rack behind her completed the image of a forsaken traitor.

For betrayers, regardless of species, there was no tolerance.

Traitors who wore the skin of their kin but carried cold daggers in secret never truly realized the catastrophic consequences their dark dealings would bring.

Silent acts of treachery could, in an instant, claim countless innocent lives and even destroy once-peaceful homes.

Leon had experienced **betrayal** firsthand and had witnessed the losses it brought.

So now, he had little sympathy for traitors, spies, or informants.

Sympathy, in this case, did not mean he would spare them—it only referred to the futile act of trying to understand their motives.

Thanks to Victor, Leon had come to see questioning a traitor’s motives as a complete waste of time. After all, when he learned of Victor’s reasons for betrayal, Leon only felt that asking was pointless.

That’s why, before this sting operation against Maureen, he had told Rosvisser that understanding a traitor’s motives wasn’t necessary.

It seemed his “fake wife” had taken his words to heart.

"Do you want to question her, or should I?" 

Rosvisser’s voice interrupted Leon’s thoughts.

Leon snapped back to reality, leaning casually against the table, arms crossed. "You do it."

"Why? This is your business," Rosvisser said, though there wasn’t any true resistance in her tone.

Leon chuckled. "You're better at these official matters than I am."

Rosvisser gave him a disapproving eye roll. "Then pay close attention and learn something—there’s more to life than just fighting wars."

"Mhm, I’m learning. Show me your best work, Professor Melkvesse."

(*Shut up, this isn’t the place for your flirting!*)

Rosvisser turned her head slowly and fixed her gaze on Maureen, who was strapped to the iron rack.

"What were Constantine’s orders to you?"

Her question was met only with the sound of Maureen’s labored breathing.

"Aside from reporting the date of my childbirth, did he give you any other instructions?"

The lifeless traitor remained silent, her head hanging low.

"Maureen, Constantine is dead. There’s no point in remaining loyal to him. Tell me what I need to know, and I will make sure you leave this world quickly."

*Huff… huff…*

After several rounds of threats and interrogation, Maureen still refused to speak.

Just as Rosvisser was about to ask another question, a stifled laugh came from behind her.

She slowly turned her head, her silver eyes glaring at Leon. "What’s so funny?"

"Nothing… just remembered something amusing."

"What’s so amusing?"

"I’m learning interrogation techniques from the Queen of the Silver Dragons, but after all this questioning, not a single word from her. Truly top-tier techniques, Your Majesty."

Rosvisser shot him a glance but didn’t argue. Instead, she replied calmly, "Idiot, watch carefully."

With that, she stepped forward and gently placed her hand on Maureen’s forehead.

A faint silver glow began to shimmer, transforming into streams of liquid-like energy that seeped into Maureen’s head through her skin.

Leon squinted slightly, observing closely, and realized that Rosvisser’s magic wasn’t flowing into her bloodstream but rather into her magical circuits.

As her circuits were invaded by this external magic, Maureen’s body instinctively began to resist.

However, with her hands and feet bound by the anti-magic chains, all she could do was tremble and growl lowly.

It was clear this process was painful, though not yet lethal.

Leon trusted that Rosvisser knew what she was doing. Even though the traitor deserved death, this wasn’t the time to kill her.

After a few minutes, Rosvisser withdrew her hand, exhaling with relief.

Leon finally spoke up. "Was that some kind of memory-probing magic?"

Rosvisser paused to catch her breath before turning to Leon. "Yes."

Leon spread his hands. "If you’ve got a trick like that, why didn’t you use it earlier, Your Majesty?"

"Because probing memories has its limitations and costs."

Rosvisser lifted Maureen’s chin so Leon could get a better look at her face.

Her expression was vacant, her eyes unfocused, much worse off than before.

"First, the principle of memory-probing magic is to forcibly inject one’s power into the target’s magical circuits, which causes irreversible damage to their brain. If I didn’t obtain useful memories from the target, they would be rendered completely uncooperative in further interrogations. That’s why this magic isn’t used unless absolutely necessary."

"And second…"

She let go of Maureen’s chin, and her head drooped again.

Rosvisser’s own complexion wasn’t great either.

Leon noticed and opened his mouth to say something, his concern bubbling to the surface. But the words that came out were less tender than intended. "Does it drain your magic significantly?"

Rosvisser shook her head. "Because I quickly read through her memories, it’s more like I endured everything Maureen experienced over the past few years within a few minutes."

Leon pursed his lips, feeling a bit awkward. After a brief pause, he awkwardly muttered, "Thank you for your hard work…"

Rosvisser scoffed lightly. "Finally, something worth hearing, you idiot."

Leon’s face flushed as he recalled teasing Rosvisser’s interrogation skills earlier, yet now the Silver Dragon Queen had gone to such lengths to extract information for his sake.

This was a whole new level of significance.

After regaining her composure, Rosvisser added, "Constantine never told her anything about your human identity. We don’t need to worry about that anymore—"

She paused, realizing her phrasing was off, and quickly corrected herself. "You don’t need to worry about that anymore."

Leon raised an eyebrow, catching her quick correction. "You were about to say ‘*we* don’t need to worry,’ weren’t you?"

Rosvisser: →_→

"Cosmod, the Silver Dragon Clan's dungeon isn’t a place for you to… to…"

Rosvisser struggled to find the right words to describe Leon’s behavior.

But fortunately, General Leon, ever articulate, finished the sentence for her. 

"To flirt with you? I get it."

"Go to hell, you."

Since Maureen didn’t know anything about Leon’s human identity, there was no longer any need for tension between the couple.

After a brief exchange of banter, Rosvisser grew serious again, adding another crucial piece of information.

"Oh, right. Maureen had several face-to-face meetings with Constantine. From those conversations, it seems we can deduce… that Constantine wasn’t the only Dragon King collaborating with the human empire."