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

While one grumbling mechanic was out there furiously scribbling his grievances about possibly marrying into a family with too much historical baggage, an unlicensed one was elsewhere, coincidentally discovering the bloodline he’d already married into.

Unlike Ollie, who was panicking over emotional contracts and hypotheticals, Luca was quietly absorbing information about the actual pillars of the Empire.

And it turned out that there was a big difference between hearing about someone in passing and having their government-issued achievements flash before you on a projector.

Take Princess Nina, for instance.

To Luca, she was the adorable little girl who loved sweets and once clung to a bunny-shaped pancake like it was a national treasure. He thought she was simply a precocious child.

But no—apparently—six-year-old Imperial Princess Gianina Theron Solaris was already a prodigy with significant political capital. The slide even listed her full portfolio of alliances, charities, and minor legislative victories.

Luca stared blankly, feeling vaguely betrayed by the memory of bunny apples.

And then it got worse.

Because next came a segment on the ”Imperial Succession Line,” where the lecture notes painted the Imperial siblings as rivals locked in political tension.

Which was insane to him. Considering how he’d literally watched Xavier let Nina braid his hair while she asked if she could sit on his lap like a cat.

So, how were they supposed to resemble the cat-and-dog siblings depicted in this article, where factions apparently exist, ready to overthrow each other?

Clearly, some history books were a bit too aggressive in their narrative.

Then came the real kicker.

Instructor Falco pulled up the final slide, one depicting the Imperial Crown Prince.

Or rather, not depicting him.

It was the only slide with a completely empty photo frame.

There were hushed murmurs from around the room, and Luca had to suppress a full-body shiver.

Instructor Falco went on, voice steady, as if delivering a story from legend:

”Imperial Crown Prince Aeric Theron Solaris is currently fulfilling the traditional training required of the Empire’s successor...”

Luca blinked.

He once heard Xavier’s full Imperial title before when he told him about his identity. But back then, it was simply a name he read on one of the books when he and D-29 were trying to gather as much information as they could about the Empire.

But for him to hear other people mention Xavier, or to talk about him like this when he was literally sitting in the same class, Luca wasn’t sure how to feel.

And yet despite his hesitations, the presentation continued.

Despite being ”away,” the Crown Prince had already spearheaded legal reforms, stabilized major financial initiatives, and authored several proposals instrumental to recent peace negotiations—all anonymously.

All without even revealing his current identity.

Luca sat frozen, his fingers hovering above the keys to his holographic tablet, entirely unsure what to write anymore.

Then the presentation shifted again.

Falco listed several attempts over the years to discredit the Crown Prince—rumors, scandals, destabilization plots, all meant to weaken his claim. It was a pattern, he said, rooted in Imperial tradition. Because generations ago, so many heirs had been assassinated that secrecy had become the throne’s most sacred armor.

Luca lowered his pen.

And for once, he was speechless.

Because in a room full of students speculating about a faceless prince...

He was sitting there with that very prince’s little notes folded in his inventory space.

And then it happened.

The student next to him leaned over to his seatmate and whispered, ”I bet the Crown Prince is like...old. And has a giant beard.”

But the other person shook his head. ”Well, he can’t be too old, the Emperor and Empress are still young. He’s probably just balding. That’s why they don’t show him.”

A third snorted. ”My uncle says he’s in exile. Bet they’re just buying time until the princess is old enough.”

Luca struggled to keep his expression unreadable. But inside, he was screaming.

Because not only was the Crown Prince not old, bald, or exiled—he was criminally handsome, cool as ice, and had kissed Luca’s forehead just this morning.

...Twice!

He’s even got his photos on his terminal!

”And of course,” Instructor Falco continued, ”we must not forget the reigning sovereigns.”

The screen shifted to display:

His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Xavian Tarion Solaris.

Her Imperial Majesty, Empress Gisella Theron Solaris.

Luca’s head flung up.

He could feel the start of a nosebleed, or maybe that was just spiritual overexposure from learning too much in too little time.

”Emperor Xavian is known for his composure and strength during the early corruption outbreaks,” Falco said. ”He established the current interplanetary alliance and remains the backbone of military reform. Many regard him as one of the most effective rulers of the past three hundred years.”

Luca had to breathe slowly.

Because if he was right, then weren’t these his in-laws?

Instructor Falco pressed a button.

Empress Gisella’s profile appeared next.

Former strategic mastermind. Co-architect of the Solaris Protocols.

”She also holds the record for the longest successful frontline command against a Class A Corruption Zone. It’s no exaggeration to say that Empress Gisella is feared even by our allies. She is credited with redefining military response protocols and advising on evacuation procedures. Her current projects include interspecies diplomatic expansions and the black zone quarantine policy.”

Luca buried his head in his arms, just now realizing how he seemed to have married into an actual dynasty.

But what probably intrigued Luca the most wasn’t the military accolades or the endless reforms.

It was how different it all sounded from the stories Xavier used to tell.

Because in those quiet stories, the Emperor wasn’t a steel-blooded sovereign—he was just a husband who adored his terrifyingly competent wife.

And the Empress? She wasn’t some diplomatic legend—she was the woman who used to point out to everyone that incompetent partners would likely get poisoned to death.

Somewhere along the way, Luca had forgotten their positions.

He’d only remembered the affection. The way Xavier smiled when talking about them. The way his voice softened when mentioning his mother’s habit of confiding in him, while his father had his dramatic episodes.

From his seat, Xavier wasn’t reading the slides.

He was reading Luca.

Watching the subtle shifts in his posture, the nervous tapping of his fingers, the way he lowered his head like he wanted to disappear into the desk.

Xavier hadn’t meant to hide the truth; after all, the information being shown was something anyone could find everywhere.

But he had chosen not to dwell on this because it wouldn’t really give Luca a clear idea about him and his family, which was now their family.

However, if he was being completely honest, it was in part because he wasn’t sure how he’d take it. What if Luca didn’t like what he saw?

What if he decided the reality of the Imperial family—the weight, the scrutiny, the violence in their history—was too much?

That Xavier came with too many expectations?

That their marriage wasn’t just a bond but a ticking time bomb of political risk?

And so, the Crown Prince—warrior, tactician, heir to the Empire, was nervous.

Because the only approval that mattered to him was seated a few inches away, quietly overwhelmed by slides and bullet points.