The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] - Chapter 291

Chapter 291: Cherished
Scratch that; there weren’t just one but four people who would probably benefit from Lulu’s majestic presence right now.

One would be Duke Leander, who was on the far side of the lobby. He stood quietly beside the remnants of the conflict, his eyes looking at every alleged passenger.

After all, it wouldn’t be the first time someone could possibly attempt to pass off as a hostage to escape punishment.

He hadn’t spoken in several minutes, arms crossed, surveying the injured, the shaken, and the quiet hum of his son moving through the crowd.

He looked calm.

But it was the kind of calm that required tremendous effort.

His knuckles were white where they gripped his forearm.

Butler Gary approached him, offering a report. “Minor injuries, a few moderate cases, but no criticals. The Young Lord’s aid came just in time.”

Leander said nothing.

His eyes were fixed on his son, who knelt beside a sobbing grandmother as he helped her stand.

Leander didn’t blink.

He hated this.

He didn’t hate that his son was someone with this kind of personality; he just hated how he just got back and had to keep on dealing with increasing responsibilities and the after effects of people’s greed.

But more than that, he hated the idea of pulling him away.

His son wasn’t meant to be tucked behind walls and guards.

He was out here. Healing people, figuratively and literally.

Even if the very thought terrified him, Leander didn’t say a word.

His son looked back at him once, maybe to check if he’d done the right thing.

The Duke gave the smallest nod before deciding to deal with their exit plan.

And maybe it was a good thing that the Duke had left for the command center, or he would’ve seen something not for the faint of heart.

Or, well, not for protective fathers.

The precious son had walked the entire stretch of the passenger lobby twice over.

He’d checked on the families tucked together in clusters of exhausted relief and reassured every person who looked like they were on the verge of falling apart.

Even now, his eyes scanned the edges of the crowd, looking for anything—or anyone—he might have missed.

Eventually, his feet led him to Ollie.

The little mop had gone from blubbering into people’s sleeves to handing out roll-ups and comforting sobbing children with the kind of cheerful awkwardness that only he could pull off.

At present, he was showing a little girl how to peel the edges of a fruit strip like it was a sacred art form.

Ollie looked up, eyes wide, arms full of candy, and smaller limbs. “Brother!”

He was pretty excited to see Luca but recognized how somber he was with how dim those golden eyes were.

“Brother, here, have some milk. Maybe this would help!”

Luca smiled faintly. “Thanks, brother.”

Ollie gave a thumbs-up, followed by a too-bright grin. “Go sit down. I think you need to rest, too.”

He wasn’t wrong.

So, with a small sigh, Luca found a corner of the room—just off to the side, where the lights were low and the edge of the wall curved into shadow—and finally allowed himself to sit.

He folded his legs before him, drawing his knees up, and loosely cradled the half-empty bottle of milk Ollie had stuffed into his hands earlier.

For the first time since they arrived, Luca let himself feel the weight of it.

It was one thing to hear about Ollie’s plight and feel partly at fault, and another to see actual people getting hurt in front of him.

Not to mention how it could’ve gone worse if Xavier hadn’t stepped in.

His chest tightened.

He pressed the bottle to his lips just to have something to do, but the milk did nothing to distract him from the way his thoughts spiraled.

Then, quiet footsteps approached.

He didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

The Imperial Crown Prince settled beside him, not saying anything at first, just sitting close enough that their shoulders brushed.

They stayed like that for a while, saying nothing.

Eventually, Luca broke the silence, his voice soft and a little shaky.

“Xavier, I—I’m sorry. I was reckless. I acted without thinking.”

Xavier’s brow furrowed slightly, though he didn’t turn to face him just yet. “You acted when it mattered.”

“But—”

“But if you had waited, then you would’ve hated yourself forever. I know you.”

That silenced him.

“It’s because you know you could’ve done something. Anything.” Xavier said as he looked at the people still gathered together.

“And I told you I’d round them up. If anything, I should apologize for dealing with them before asking.”

It sounded like it was just a matter of fact. But it had caught Luca’s breath.

“What kind of husband would I be if I couldn’t back you up?” The Prince nudged Luca’s slumped shoulders gently, trying to coax a reaction from the still-too-serious guide.

Luca’s eyes shimmered. It was always like this.

“Xavier…”

“Mn?” The Prince reached out, brushing his fingers lightly over Luca’s hand.

Luca had long thought about this, especially ever since D-29 showed him a few review materials.

He was always cared for, protected, and supported. And Xavier had done this wordlessly. And Luca couldn’t help but see the injustice in this.

The little chipmunk hesitated. Then tilted his head thoughtfully. “But Xavier, how about you?”

Xavier blinked. “Me?”

Luca nodded seriously. “When do you become the wife?”

“Huh? The what?”

“I mean, D-29 showed me all these social modules and household compatibility reviews,” Luca said seriously, his milk bottle almost forgotten on his lap. “And one of the things it said was that a ‘happy wife, happy life.'”

Xavier nodded slowly, intrigued. “Right.”

“But what to do when I’m the wife?”

Xavier choked on air. “Wha—”

“I’m always the wife,” Luca insisted, clutching the milk like a lifeline. “But isn’t that unfair?” he looked up at Xavier, eyes serious.

“When do you get to be the wife?”

Xavier stared at him.

“Because obviously, happy wives would have happy lives, right?”

“But if I’m always the wife, then what about your happy life?” Luca’s brows were furrowed.

Obviously, that was not what it meant. Not by a long shot.

But the combination of D-29 and Luca wouldn’t have known any better, and so the little wife had been stuck thinking about the injustices.

Xavier blinked again, his lips twitching. The corners of his mouth trembled, and for a moment, Luca thought he might’ve broken him.

Then, softly—dangerously—Xavier asked, “Do you not want to be my wife anymore?”

“That’s not—!” Luca’s ears turned red. “I’m saying it’s not balanced! That’s all! I just—” He flailed slightly, looking down at his milk like it might help him argue better.

Luca looked horrified.

“No! I mean—maybe not always? Or at least let me rotate duties!” He frowned.

“There should be a schedule. You can’t just be the one doing all the protecting and supporting. That’s unfair, right?!”

Just like today and the day before that, including all 400 attempts at their lives and guild that he didn’t even have to face.

However he looked at it, it just seemed like husbands have it worse.

“…”

Xavier finally gave a short, low laugh, finally letting it out.

The allegedly problematic husband let out a breath, clearly amused. “Luca, it’s a joke. ‘Happy wife, happy life’—it’s a phrase they use to say that husbands only get peace when their wives are content.”

“That sounds like a warning.”

“It is,” Xavier agreed solemnly. “One passed down through generations.”

“Oh no,” Luca muttered. “That’s even worse.”

“Exactly. It’s not actually a good measure.” Xavier let out a breath, clearly amused.

For one, it really should be ‘happy spouse, happy life.’ And not in a self-serving way.”

“Eh?” Luca blinked.

“It’s not me making you happy because I don’t want you complaining.”

“I’m trying to make and keep you happy because it makes me happy.” Those amused Azure eyes stared at Luca, and for a moment, he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“But if you must know. I’m very happy keeping you safe, smiling, and financially stable.”

“So, if you’d be interested in keeping me happy, I hope you’d continue being my wife,” Xavier whispered as he leaned closer.

Luca gasped. His face reddening at Xavier’s words.

His mouth opened.

Closed.

Opened again. He looked like he was buffering because he really was.

Luca’s hands flailed briefly before clutching his milk bottle like a blessed talisman.

Xavier simply smiled, a corner of his mouth slightly raised as he burned the poor, flustered chipmunk with his gaze.

“M—maybe! But if I’m always going to be the wife, I also need to do things!”

Xavier’s grin widened, satisfied. “Of course. Anything for my wife.”

Luca made a strangled sound and felt like he needed to down the rest of his milk in his panic.

But, beneath the flustered chaos, his heart felt full. Safe. Cherished.

Okay, maybe that was one person who didn’t need cow therapy anymore.