The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] - Chapter 329

Chapter 329: Sleep
It was one hell of an ordeal.

But after much shoving, tugging, and laughing between attempts to change, the two strugglers finally succeeded.

Those starry pajamas were on. Those soft, ridiculous, and very much Ollie-like pajamas were finally buttoned up to a certain someone’s satisfaction.

And sleep was finally within reach.

Which would probably be what Kyle would’ve said in a perfect world.

If only.

For the adjutant was currently squeezed inside a mecha cockpit with an uneasy mechanic who was still riding today’s adrenaline.

So now he had another problem.

“There’s nothing to watch,” the mop groaned dramatically, his starlit sleeves flopping over his face. “Kyle, we’re gonna die of boredom before anything else.”

Technically, Ollie would be the only one capable of perishing because of boredom, as Kyle had been born busy.

And if anything, he’d die from the lack of sleep before that tree outside could get to him.

But he understood that this was a special circumstance, especially considering how Ollie has likely had the longest and most eventful day of his life.

So he tried another method.

He’d have to tire Ollie out somehow, so out came his storage buttons.

“Here,” he sighed. “If you’re so bored, you can try sorting these for me.”

Ollie perked up instantly. And by now, it was obvious that this one was motivated by seeing and arranging things.

The problem was that Kyle didn’t exactly have a junkyard. So there was nothing much to sort unless he wanted the blonde to look at his files. Now that would surely drive this one to bed, but NDAs existed for a reason.

And it was as Kyle predicted, he just didn’t think it’d be done alarmingly fast.

But what was Ollie supposed to organize, save for the most recent items used when Kyle was the meticulous type?

Not even ten minutes. And the little hoarder could be heard flopping back into that awkward position.

They decided to sleep like this so they could fit side by side in the cramped space. Ollie was behind him, with only the view of Kyle’s back for entertainment, as both curled like parentheses in a sentence no one wanted to write.

It was…uncomfortable.

Especially with all those things hitting them when they move.

But worse than the discomfort were the seemingly unending sighs.

Which came as a surprise to Kyle.

It was obvious that Ollie was having difficulty sleeping, but that was unusual for someone who could sleep anywhere.

On cargo crates, even consoles, and even through an entire crash.

And while he did have his bedtime rituals, that was mostly for sleeping inside an actual room.

But normally, he could just conk out the moment he shuts his eyes.

So Kyle finally asked, “What’s wrong?”

There was a beat of silence.

Then the hyperactive shorty murmured, “My Pop was supposed to visit the base in three days.”

Kyle blinked, turning slightly. “Three days…?”

“Yeah,” Ollie said, voice muffled. “Uhh…that’s thirty days here, right?”

He sounded unsure and very shifty. And for once, Kyle realized the additional implication of being stuck in this dungeon.

Like how his brother was actually out there waiting for him, like they agreed upon.

But at least Killian would have an idea about where it could’ve gone wrong, unlike Ollie’s father, who would have to start looking for leads first.

However, both would still be tame compared to Duke Leander, who would definitely start overturning planets to look for his son.

Kyle stilled for a bit. He hadn’t really stopped to think about how time moved outside, not when they were trying to survive inside. But Ollie’s quiet words made it all feel real.

The duchess had spent five years in the lower-ranked dungeon even after alternating with Gisella to avoid extreme fatigue.

So if that was how long they’ve been dealing with this dungeon, then what more after it became A-class?

Ollie had been thinking about this for a while now. He had a feeling they’d be able to leave, but when?

Ollie sniffled once, quietly, subtly.

It wasn’t the dramatic ones he was known for, but one born from being torn about how to feel.

“I’m really glad we’re here, you know? ‘Cause we found Luca’s mom. That’s huge. But…”

“But now you miss your parents,” Kyle finished gently.

“Yeah,” Ollie whispered. “And I keep thinking…what if we can’t get out? What if my Pop comes and I’m not there?”

On the one hand, he was glad they somehow ended up here because his good brother finally found his mom. But at the same time, he couldn’t quite stop himself from thinking about his parents and how he promised to maintain contact, only to fail right away.

It was unnerving, and he felt guilty just thinking about it.

Kyle turned to face him, a little awkward in the cramped space. The mop looked small. Not physically—he was still limbs and fluff—but emotionally. Like a balloon two breaths from popping.

“We’ll figure something out,” Kyle said firmly. “We’ve got more people now. A lot more. That’s already more than she had before.”

Ollie didn’t say anything at first. Just stared at him with wide, red-rimmed eyes.

“Really?”

“Yeah, really. We’re getting out, one way or another, so you should go to sleep.” Kyle reasoned.

“The faster we rest, the earlier we can start executing our plan to get out of here.”

And Ollie exhaled—long, slow, and tired.

“But Kyle…My back hurts,” mumbled the blonde, who also wanted to sleep but really couldn’t because his back was hitting the edge of the console, with how cramped the space was.

The poor adjutant thought about it. But decided to trash his thoughts because logic does not apply to this person and to their situation.

For if he wanted to be logical, then those pajamas wouldn’t see the light of day. But what do you have here?

He’s already gone through such lengths, so what was one more step into insanity?

And so, without another word, the mecha pilot who has given up resistance hauled the mop on top of him, laying him on his chest to give them some actual space.

Ollie landed with a soft oof against his chest.

Kyle adjusted until both of them could actually breathe, letting the shorty sprawl across him like a blanket.

The mop was obviously surprised. Very much so.

But Kyle’s body was warm. His heartbeat was steady. And all of it felt familiar.

Ollie, who had been about to complain about hard surfaces and cramped spaces, instead found his eyelids drooping almost immediately.

The mop melted against him, arms slipping loosely around Kyle’s side, head tucked under his chin.

The tired mattress rubbed his hair absently, already feeling himself drift.

And for one blissful moment, it was peaceful.

And it really was, for Ollie, who couldn’t initially sleep, would wake up with better-looking skin.

At least one of them would.

For just when the poor adjutant thought that the night would at least pass safely, a bang jolted him awake.

A sharp noise ricocheted through the cockpit.

His heart jumped into his throat.

He cursed under his breath, feeling like the universe had a personal vendetta against his life, specifically his sleep.

He blinked blearily, registering the weight still sprawled over him. Ollie didn’t even twitch, dead asleep.

Of course.

Of course, the mop could sleep through anything now that he had sacrificed his sanity.

Another BANG—this time closer—and Kyle tensed, hand moving automatically to the cockpit console.

They have got to be kidding him.