The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] - Chapter 278

Chapter 278: Understanding
The small tin can that was slid through the slot of the confessional was received with skepticism.

For one, it was not beyond his children to put in random items that were not for the faint of heart, and that included Ollie, who was known for putting in micro grenades for fun.

He frowned, lifted the lid—

*Click.*

And immediately snapped it shut right back up.

The Marquis was stunned. But more importantly, the father in him trembled ever so slightly.

He did assume a few things, like a bribe of precious gems or maybe a rare material… but no.

It was nothing like that. In fact, he wasn’t even sure how to describe it.

Yet, despite not knowing exactly what it was, he could sure as hell tell what it could be classified as.

An honest-to-goodness relic.

And one that his son likely just carried the same way he delivered those auction goods to him.

“Ollie!” he boomed once again, and Ollie, by sheer conditioned reflex, responded, “Pop! I swear, I didn’t steal it!”

It was not because he had such hands but because he had the knack for encountering and collecting the oddest items and people who wouldn’t normally be found easily.

If only his father knew, Marquis Osmond would learn that all this took shape precisely because of this odd knack.

But then he realized that, oh, maybe there was another concern that should really be highlighted: “If it makes you feel better, Pop, I’m sure it’s edible. I tested it out myself!”

The mop was proud; after all, he managed to only consume one cookie from this particular can.

All in the name of ensuring quality.

However, the father, who would’ve normally reacted against this, was too fixated on the snacks to remember what they could be for.

He narrowed his eyes to open the tin again—just to double-check the goods—before finally asking, and he did so despite the dizzying scent that was likely clouding his judgment.

“What kind of atrocity did you commit that made you think that something like this would be an appropriate bribe?” Asked the Marquis, who was surviving on sheer willpower.

Nothing yet. After all, he was just about to go there, but only after explaining without really having to do so.

Instead of receiving an answer, the Marquis heard movement from the other side.

Then came another item.

This time, it was a bottle, one whose contents he should be able to identify despite not getting the chance to taste them—a bottle of lemonade.

It looked refreshing, and he just knew that opening it would likely cause the confessional doors to be sealed for a long while.

The Marquis stared. But as if a certain prodigal son thought that his father needed a bit more shock in his life, he decided to send another item over.

A single apple.

Red, glossy, and literally shimmered like a jewel in the eyes of the Marquis.

It was practically the humblest of all the three offerings but was the one that had the most impact.

Ollie had chosen to send over the basics—not the garlic butter or celebratory strawberry milk, nor did he send over the popular pancakes.

Because his goal was to send a message.

This wasn’t a bribe. This was trust.

The father stilled.

He had received the message.

Ollie knew his father. While he was “playful” with everyone, it would’ve been impossible for him to rise and stay as a top industry player by being dense.

No—Trading Mogul Marquis Osmond had survived this long because he listened, he saw, and he connected.

And right now?

Everything was lining up.

This prodigal son wasn’t trying to stall his punishment but was trying to introduce him to something far bigger that couldn’t yet be put into words.

And he really had no time to yell, for if his guess was true, then he didn’t have much time.

“I see.”

“Pop?” Ollie tilted his head from the side of the booth, waiting for the verdict that hopefully wouldn’t get him banished.

“Let us stop talking about this.”

“Eh???”

“If what you’re trying to say is what I think you’re trying to say, then don’t. Not even the confessional was built for that.”

Ollie, the confused son, blinked.

“It has remained a secret for a reason,” the Marquis said firmly, “And I will not be the one to make a mistake that could cost you your protection.”

“But—”

“I’ll go.”

Ollie’s jaw dropped.

“To Planet Nova,” Marquis Osmond clarified. “But not right away. I have appointments I must honor. But in about three days, I should be available.”

“Really, Pop?!”

“If this guild of yours is as serious as it seems, then it’s probably worth seeing it for myself, ” he said as he carefully grouped his haul, which he’d probably try on later.

“But—” Ollie perked up, remembering why he came in the first place. “Before that! Can I consult you about something?”

The Marquis raised an eyebrow, amused at the vocabulary he seemed to have picked up while away. Since when did Ollie consult about anything?

“It’s important, Pop,” Ollie stressed. “It’s about some regulated materials.”

The air cooled. While the hopeful son felt the chill, he tried pushing on. He was dead meat after this anyway, so he might as well be useful dead meat.

“Plasmium and Titaniumite. We’re trying to source materials for a very crucial build. But…we can’t source it unless someone sells from their allocation.”

Ollie fiddled with his hands. If anything, all of this was dependent on luck because they couldn’t expect to buy everything, and by now, there could even be nothing left if customers had already lined up for this.

“I see”. Marquis Osmond didn’t press further. “And you?”

“I’m asking if we could…maybe buy it from our company’s allocation?”

“And if I say no?”

Ollie gulped. But tried fumbling for words.

“I’ll understand…” he trailed. “But I’d probably cry and look for Mom.”

And he really would. But at the same time, he figured he needed to do something drastic too. “Pop, please! I promise we won’t tell others, and I won’t even complain if you don’t send me an allowance for this year—

“Or maybe even next year. Just…I really need this, Pop.”

There was silence, and Ollie couldn’t help but fidget until he heard a soft, considering hum.

“I’ll check. If the allocations are still there and the quotas haven’t been used up. I’ll consider your offer.”

“But only after I visit.”

“Really?!”

“No promises. But I will see it first. I want to understand what I’m getting our family involved in.”

Ollie exclaimed in joy, “Thank you, Pop! You’re really the best! And even with three fewer hairs, you’re still the most handsome!”

The Marquis heard that and almost wanted to take back what he said.

Who was even the cause of his hair loss?!

“You. While you can’t explain about other things, you better start explaining about your mercenary certification.”

“And what was this thing about being a Flower Boy?”

“Then there is the matter of Owen’s birthday dinner. You’d have likely missed out on that too if not for these materials, no?”

Tsk.

This child.

Bullseye.

Ollie paled, and rightfully so.