The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] - Chapter 303

Chapter 303: Time
The silence inside the barrier hung thick with disbelief.

Even now, moments after confirming each other’s identities, Amelia found herself trembling. Her hands refused to unclench, and her breath wouldn’t steady.

She was alive, but it felt like her soul had been yanked back from the edge of a dream—or a nightmare.

It didn’t feel real.

She had tried to suppress this hope.

Day after day, year after year, in this cursed dungeon, she’d fought to forget how long it had been.

She’d trained herself to ignore the ache in her chest, to pretend the silence of her terminal wasn’t maddening. She fought like someone who’d already died yet couldn’t find peace as she clung onto her heart’s regrets.

But what was this? Her long-time confidante and friend was here and was spewing words she’d only dreamed of.

And she wasn’t even dead yet?!

“Please, Your Grace,” Butler Gary said softly, his voice thick with restrained emotion. He offered a gloved hand to help her lower herself onto a flat patch of smooth stone.

Amelia Soren Kyros—the Duchess of Kyros, once a soldier feared on the battlefield—sat with practiced poise, her spine ramrod straight, as if any display of weakness might shatter the fragile dignity she still clung to.

And yet, her knuckles turned white where they gripped the folds of her cloak, the tremor in her breath betraying her composure.

But her hands moved before her mind could catch up. She gripped his sleeve tightly, like letting go might break the spell. Her eyes scanned his face, searching for cracks, confirmation, or denial.

Anything.

“Tell me about him,” she said at last, her voice softer than a whisper.

Gary blinked, confused for a moment, before realization dawned.

“Young Lord Luca?”

She nodded. Her voice cracked. “Is he… still bedridden?”

“Is he…is he eating enough? Does he look too thin? Have you been giving him his supplements?”

She swallowed.

“Has he grown taller after so many years?”

Butler Gary’s heart stuttered.

She still remembered him as the boy who couldn’t move. Still frozen in time, while the world had gone on without her.

When he smiled—a soft, relieved, bittersweet thing—Amelia panicked.

“No,” she breathed. “No, don’t do that. Don’t smile like that. What happened?”

“He’s okay,” Gary said quickly. “He’s more than okay, Your Grace. He’s more than we’ve all imagined.”

Amelia blinked.

“The Young Lord woke up,” Gary whispered reverently. “Months ago. He’s…he’s incredible. Strong, intelligent, and extremely kind.”

“And somehow…he brought the Duke back.”

“?”

“!!!”

“What—?”

The Duchess choked on a laugh.

And then another. And then sobbed.

She covered her face with both hands and laughed and cried at the same time, overwhelmed by the sheer absurdity and joy of it.

“He did it,” she whispered. “That bastard Leander actually did it. He said—he said the heavens would probably spit him back if he died. That hell wouldn’t take him because he was too gullible.”

Gary chuckled wetly. “It was touch and go. But he made it.”

The Duchess sat frozen for a long moment, drinking it all in.

“My son. I have to see him,” she said. “I have to—now.”

The woman who had been desperate to defeat the boss wasn’t just fired up this time.

She was going to get it done, hell or high water.

But the butler lifted a hand.

“No need to look so far, Your Grace,” he said, gently steering her upward.

“What do you mean?”

He guided her to a narrow ledge overlooking their makeshift camp. And there, in a halo of crystal glow and flickering light, stood a boy.

A boy who laughed like sunshine.

He was snacking. Of course, he was.

He was with Lord Ollie, talking animatedly about something. Maybe fungus. Maybe glowing fruit. Or whatever rock they possibly found earlier. Who knew?

And Amelia gasped.

“He’s…” Her knees buckled again, and she had to brace herself.

He looked just like his husband, if that guy didn’t grow to be an armored vehicle.

They’d always been alike. Almost painfully so.

But his eyes. Gods, those eyes.

Her son’s eyes.

She reached for her satchel without thinking and withdrew the one thing she had managed to keep all these years. A photograph. Wrinkled and weather-worn, the ink faded in places, but the expression unmistakable.

Luca.

Small. Innocent. But looked up at her like she was the world.

“I used to take this out every night,” she said quietly. “Even when I was too tired to eat. Even when I thought I wouldn’t make it to the next day. Just one look. That was enough.”

Gary said nothing. There was nothing to say.

Amelia watched her son laugh. She didn’t move.

“I want to hug him,” she whispered.

Smother his face with kisses, bop his nose, ask about his day, his life…so many things, but—

Butler Gary glanced sideways.

“But I can’t,” she said, more firmly. “Not yet. I-I want to get to know him again. I want to see him like this, before he sees me as someone who failed him.”

“Your Grace, you didn’t—”

“I did.” Her voice was soft. “Even if I couldn’t help it, I did. And I don’t want him to feel like he owes me anything just because I’m his mother.”

Her eyes filled again.

She was clear on her dreams of seeing her son, her husband, and her people. But she meant it when she said she’d like to just see them.

For even now, she’s bathing in failure. What face was she supposed to show everyone after being gone for so many years, only for his son to come to her instead?

And after so many years of having to do this, was she even worthy of calling herself a mom?

She wasn’t sure about being a mother, but she was sure about being a coward right now.

How absolutely unlike her.

Maybe she was the real chicken shit of this family?

“What if he doesn’t want me back?”

The loyal vassal’s answer was immediate. “He will.”

“Lord Luca is something else, Your Grace.”

He was something none of them could’ve ever imagined, and none of them lacked wishful thinking.

Countless images and thought-up scenarios, and yet their Young Lord managed to exceed all of them.

And it’s only been about two months, and he’s already managed to change everything.

But speaking of months.

Butler Gary wasn’t entirely sure about this but why did he feel like something was so wrong about the situation.

“Your Grace, if anything, the Duke only has two months on you.”

“The Young Lord just returned when his first semester at the Academy started.” He explained.

“Huh?”

“He’s in school? They allowed him to go despite his age?”

“What do you mean, Your Grace? The Young Lord is only nineteen; because of his age, he’s required to go!”

Duchess Amelia froze.

Nineteen?

But it’s been five years.

It’s been five years since she vanished into this dungeon, since she last held her loved ones, and since her world split apart.

“Your Grace, it’s been six months.”

“What?!”

They looked at each other—horrified and confused—until realization slowly dawned.

“The time flow,” Gary murmured. “That place also had a different flow. If that’s the case… then here…”

She swallowed. Hard.

Only six months?!

Seriously?

Well, apparently so!