The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] - Chapter 352

Chapter 352: Unexpected Introductions
It would’ve been a scene that D-29 could immortalize.

Who would’ve thought that its research could finally be spot on?!

But alas, it was not meant to be, for behind closed doors, one adjutant was trying his best to stay alive.

Not because he was receiving the brunt of the non-existent hits, but because Ollie might kill him from asphyxiation.

“Hey, you’re going to have to face them properly. So I’m going to have to set you down.” He whispered low enough for the mop to hear. Not like that would make a difference given their enhanced senses, but still.

“No, no!” He shook his head, eyes wide in terror.

“You’ve been wanting to show off your manliness, right? So this is your chance.” Kyle, still supporting Ollie’s weight, whispers, “If I set you down, you will face them like the man that you are, right?”

But instead of pounding on his chest like he usually did, the mop hissed back, “If you let go, I’ll die like a fool.”

There would be no need to talk about manliness or even futures, the world would just like that lose one bright soul!

Marquis Julienne, on the other hand, was not deterred by this and stepped gracefully inside with her husband behind her.

Ollie couldn’t tell if she was about to hug him or murder him. And it was likely both, but by the looks of it, his mother was just willing to hug his corpse once she was done with him.

Then she spoke, and he understandably flinched.

Marquise Julienne spoke softly, but somehow it felt louder than a thunderclap: “Oliver. We need to talk.”

Then the Marquise’s gaze shifted, her sharp, discerning eyes settling on Kyle with a precision that made him stand a little straighter despite himself.

She offered him a smile—polite, gracious, but edged with the steel of a woman who was used to getting answers to her silent questions.

“My apologies,” she said smoothly, her voice gentle but firm, “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”

Her head inclined slightly, elegant as a practiced elite. “May I ask for your name, young man?”

The adjutant hesitated for half a second before answering.

“…Kyle Nox, My Lady.” He answered with a respectful nod, his voice steady despite the situation’s awkwardness.

The name dropped like a pebble into a still pond.

The Marquise blinked once, twice, her polite smile faltering just a fraction, just enough for someone observant to notice. Her eyebrows rose a millimeter, surprise flickering across her otherwise composed features before smoothing back into practiced elegance.

“A pleasure, Lord Nox.” Her smile returned with suspicious swiftness.

Kyle wasn’t sure whether it was a compliment or a curse.

“Thank you for looking after my son,” she added, her tone pleasant, though something flashed in her eyes now—something that made Kyle feel like he’d just been added to a list. A very long, very detailed list.

Behind her, Marquis Osmond cocked his head to one side slightly as if silently reading between invisible lines.

Then the Marquise’s tone softened ever so slightly as she continued, “We were wondering…if it would be possible for us to borrow the room for a little while.”

Her smile widened by a fraction. “Just a quiet family conversation. Nothing more.”

Honestly, that sounded ominous, especially when paired with that expression.

And this got Ollie swallowing. Loudly.

“!!!”

“…”

“Of course,” he said, both noble and doomed. It wasn’t really something he could reject, not when he had been directly asked.

From his back, Ollie whimpered faintly.

“…traitor,” whispered the stressed-out stick hoarsely. “You don’t care about me anymore! I’ll be no more!”

Kyle gently pried Ollie’s limbs off his neck, peeling him away like an overly affectionate octopus. The mop whimpered pitifully, sagging in his arms like a damp towel.

But instead of immediately retreating, the newly minted tree trunk crouched down beside the bed, brows furrowed in quiet determination as he scanned the floor.

“Mnn…there!” he muttered under his breath, before spotting a pair of familiar bunny slippers poking out from beneath the dresser. He reached under, carefully retrieving them and even brushing off a stray bit of dust.

“Here we go,” Kyle murmured softly, slipping them onto Ollie’s bare feet with deliberate gentleness, making sure each foot was snug and warm. He even adjusted the floppy ears so they weren’t bent funny.

“Don’t freeze to death before facing your doom.”

Ollie sniffled miserably. “I’m already cold inside, you heartless jerk!”

Kyle gave him a light pat on the head. “Stay strong. And honest. I’ll…bring you dessert later.”

Ollie’s lip wobbled. “You’d really…?”

“Yeah,” Kyle added, his smile turning faintly crooked. “Might as well get you a last meal.”

Ollie deflated instantly, groaning. “Kyyyyyyle! How could you—?!”

Kyle chuckled under his breath, ruffling Ollie’s hair again. “You’ll survive.”

The waiting parents watched the quiet exchange with unreadable expressions. However, the faintest twitch at the corner of Marquise Julienne’s mouth suggested some kind of amusement, or perhaps grudging fondness at the sight of this very unexpected development.

Kyle straightened, giving Ollie one last glance before facing the parents with a composed nod.

He deliberated between heading out and doing this. For one, he had no place speaking about keeping contact when he purposely ghosted his family. But if he didn’t offer a few words, that mop might just wilt before saying anything that would make sense.

And so with a giant internal sigh, the well-meaning temporary roommate tried butting in.

“…I must apologize, My Lady, My Lord,” he began formally, hands folded behind his back. “I fear I, too, forgot to remind him to contact his family.”

He hesitated, guilt flickering briefly in his gaze. “We…actually encountered another emergency after the hijacking. We’d only just returned last night—and unfortunately, exhaustion overtook us all.”

His words were quiet, respectful, and his tone contrite without sounding defensive.

“I know it’s no excuse, but I thought it best to clarify. We meant no disrespect.”

Julienne’s gaze softened—just barely. Osmond’s brow eased a degree, his arms still folded but no longer radiating quite the same intensity.

Kyle dipped his head once more. “I’ll leave you to yourselves.”

And with that, he turned, quiet and sure-footed, and left the room without another word.

The door clicked shut behind him.

Inside, Ollie looked toward his parents with a pitiful whimper, bunny slippers twitching nervously.

“…please be gentle…”

The Marquise’s answering smile was sharp and sweet. “Let’s begin, shall we?”

And Ollie swore, in that moment, that even the slippers felt much heavier.