The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] - Chapter 318

Chapter 318: Willingness
She saw the flicker of change in his facial expression.

There was uncertainty, and if she was right, a whole lot of fear.

Yes, that was clearly fear.

But the moment her son looked up to that white wolf, his face morphed into determination, and worse—or best of all—trust.

She’d have to be blind not to see how her son has placed his trust in this guy, and while it hurt because she was the source of his uncertainty, she couldn’t help but feel relieved that her son found someone to trust.

It’s just that…was this man trustworthy?

Did he cross-check?

‘…’

‘…’

Please.

Who was she kidding? Thought the duchess, who could only sardonically laugh at the irony of all this.

It sure as hell was late for her, who didn’t get the full experience. But she suddenly felt like all of it just clicked. She somehow just understood a bit of why her own mother fainted back then.

And how she felt like she was going to end up in the same boat.

And somehow, she just knew she was being ridiculous. And a giant hypocrite.

If anything, wasn’t she the one being fed her own medicine?

Her hands felt clammy, and her knees could’ve wobbled at the thought, but she realized that her son had made a decision. And all that she could do right now was to see whether she could survive it.

For this kid, no, this young man was not the same little boy who would constantly ask her if the moon followed him around or how many naps it would take to get home.

He’d grown up. Whether she liked it or not.

She was the only one frozen in time.

She’d experienced being on the brink of death so many times now, and yet somehow that look was all it took to send her back there.

But she wasn’t going to cry.

Although right about now, she could’ve sworn she’d love to see the goofy face of a certain someone.

Or anyone who could tell her what to do and how to be an actual parent.

Just a bit of support.

But maybe this was for the best, for she’d decided on what she could do.

Not that she had a lot of options here.

Sigh.

It may have been a ground-breaking moment for one duchess, but to a few, all they saw was that sudden momentary wistful look in her eyes right before the sounds of clanking metals.

To the untrained eye, the Duchess hadn’t moved.

But a certain adjutant, trained in observation and veteran in the art of family disasters, saw the flicker first.

That subtle shift of weight.

And that soft exhale that sounded far too calm to be natural.

And then—

Clink.

It was a sound that wasn’t even that loud, but seriously reverberated through the hearts of a few lads.

Kyle Nox had a few expectations; in fact, he had so much more filed under the worst-case scenario folder in his head, but when those things came off one by one, he knew that he wasn’t accurate in imagining what could have been.

A dagger dropped into Cece’s hand.

The dwarf froze, mouth open, eyes wide.

“…was this in your boot?”

Another metallic click followed.

Clink. Clink.

Two more daggers—folding, gleaming, obviously poison-coated—fell into Gisella’s hands like they’d been waiting to stab fate itself.

And Duchess Amelia?

She remained silent, still unreadable.

Until she reached up, calmly pulled a comb from her hair, and revealed it to be a hidden blade.

“?”

“???”

“!!!”

One by one, they came.

A spiritual disruptor spike from her heel.

A fan-shaped stun weapon that unfolded with a zzzzzip of glowing edges.

A bracelet that turned out to be a chain-linked throwing wire with monomolecular edges.

Click. Flick. Drop.

The final straw came when she casually unsnapped her belt and uncoiled a flexible energy whip from the lining, handing it to Gisella as if handing over a pair of gloves.

If anything, only her sword was handed with enough reverence that everyone thought it signalled the end of this horrifying scene.

No words.

No explanation.

Just quiet, noble disarmament.

All while everyone stood frozen in place, knowing that someone surely could’ve died.

Ollie felt like clutching his throat. But no one felt more vindicated than Sid, who knew he was right to disappear, but at the same time, offered a slew of prayers for the Master who could’ve experienced all of that.

But the duchess remained silent all the while, and only until she made a decision to hand over even this one did she speak.

It was her last hidden weapon. A tiny black orb the size of a marble, softly humming with internal spiritual charge. And only after this did she fold her arms in front of her like a woman finally ready to conduct diplomacy.

“I’m willing to listen, if you’ll let me,” she said smoothly, or as smoothly as her nerves could allow.

And before her, one Imperial Crown Prince who almost became wood shavings thought he had made the right and only plausible decision.

If he wanted to stand by Luca for the foreseeable future, he would have to tell as much of the truth as the oaths would allow.

He knew that this was the cost, or mainly, just the beginning of it.

However, what he didn’t expect was for Luca to suddenly step in front of him like a fluffed-up chipmunk trying to protect an ancient tree.

Initially, Luca wasn’t particularly sure about what was happening, especially as all those weapons were handed to other people.

However, someone else was sure.

A certain someone volunteered their expertise after analyzing what was likely to happen.

D-29 had seen this before. Repeatedly, in fact.

But to one little system’s horror, it was the host’s family that didn’t look too amused by this glorious partnership.

Then it noted the impossibility and waste of having to pay off the benefactor who had that much money, and the faithful system knew to encourage defense.

If the duchy were to attempt to separate them, it would be unwise to issue a blank check. It would be for an impossible price, and would definitely affect their CP gathering efficiency.

So naturally, the little system stepped in.

“Host—!”

What came was garbled scenarios that filled Luca’s mind with what-ifs.

Then dread.

Then the little chipmunk’s heart, who hadn’t known this kind of fear, clinched so tight that he felt like crying.

His throat locked up as emotions surged—raw, panicked, irrational.

And before he could stop himself, he turned to his mother, wide-eyed and trembling, and said—

“Mom…”

“Please don’t take him away…”

The words weren’t shouted.

They weren’t dramatic.

They were small. Cracked. Raw with fear and unspoken desperation.

Everyone went still.

Even Xavier.

It was such a pitiful look.

And everyone—every single entity—slowly turned to the duchess, who hadn’t even done anything yet.

Yet all eyes were on her as if she had just committed a crime.

And Amelia Kyros—Her Grace, Slayer of Diplomats, Terror of the Council—could only panic.

Xavier, for his part, closed his eyes in a long, quiet sigh.

Something had clearly gone wrong again.

And if his guess was correct, someone’s consumption should really be filtered before his little wife ended up learning about scum men, somewhere, somehow.