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

Given the Duke’s strong desire to live, he probably would.

But for everyone else who had been given the daunting task of playing while knowing exactly what they were playing for, it quickly became clear that this was the kind of matter that made people want to sit on the ground and rethink their future plans.

Princess Tharkira had been rather thorough.

Painfully thorough.

Before they were told they were good to go, she made them memorize several key rules. Not suggestions. Rules.

First, everyone with access to the activity center was granted complimentary entry to all activities, with the sole exception of the mecha polishing competition. That one required a small fee to cover the component used during participation, which she clarified was really more of an investment since they would get to take it home.

Second, each guest was limited to five terminal swipes for the arcade games before needing to recharge if they wanted to continue playing.

Third, while there were no restrictions on which games one could play, there were restrictions on how one behaved.

No hogging machines.

No cutting lines.

And absolutely no cheating.

The last point was delivered with a frightening level of emphasis.

Especially cheating through spiritual energy.

The princess made it very clear that the games were meant to be enjoyed by everyone, regardless of background or ability. Anyone caught tampering with the machines or the gameplay through spiritual means would be escorted out.

Personally.

By her.

The way she smiled while saying it ensured that even those watching the livestream instinctively straightened in their seats.

Nobody doubted her.

And honestly, considering everything that was at stake, who in their right mind would want to be thrown out when the rest of the Empire was desperately trying to get in?

Certainly not Reeve Solin.

He was breathing a little heavier than usual as he followed Princess Kira through the activity center, his gaze darting between unfamiliar machines that beeped, flashed, and spun in ways that felt deeply personal.

Some of them looked innocent.

Some of them looked hostile.

All of them looked expensive.

Thea walked beside him, eyes wide but sparkling with curiosity. After a few moments of silent observation, she did something brave.

Or reckless.

”Um,” she said carefully, looking up at the towering orc princess. ”Your Highness?”

Princess Kira turned instantly, grin already forming.

”Yes?”

Thea swallowed. ”Do you... have a favorite game?”

Reeve nearly stopped breathing.

He half expected the question to be ignored, brushed aside, or answered politely and vaguely.

Instead, the princess’s face lit up like someone had just offered her a weapon.

”HAHAHAHA!” Princess Kira laughed, clapping her hands once. ”This! I love all the games here, but this is my current favorite!”

She pivoted sharply and led them to a machine boldly labeled:

WOBBLE STACK

Reeve stared at it.

The machine was deceptively simple, at least according to the Orc Princess. The objective was to simply create a vertical stack of perfectly placed blocks within the set timer.

It sounded doable.

Princess Kira leaned forward, eyes shining. ”So who wants to try?”

Her words didn’t feel like a question, and somehow everyone’s gaze shifted directly onto Reeve.

He felt something inside him accept its fate.

”Well,” he said weakly, lifting a hand. ”I guess I can go first.”

Princess Kira beamed.

He stepped forward.

And the moment the game activated, Reeve realized, with absolute clarity, that he had made a terrible mistake.

Because just what kind of game was this?!

__

The intern stepped onto the platform with the kind of caution usually reserved for unstable bridges and suspicious elevators.

All around him, people held their breath.

He lifted his terminal, skimmed the floating prompts once, then glanced toward Princess Kira, who nodded encouragingly as if she were about to watch someone wrestle fate itself.

”Whenever you’re ready,” she said brightly.

The machine chimed cheerfully.

Ready? Start!

Reeve barely had time to process the words before his finger moved.

He pressed the button.

A block dropped.

Gasps rippled through the crowd as it slid into place, aligning cleanly atop the base. The platform beneath Reeve’s feet hummed, but remained steady.

A beat passed.

Nothing exploded.

”Oh,” someone whispered. ”He got it.”

Reeve exhaled and pressed the button again.

The second block dropped.

Perfect.

Applause broke out immediately.

”Nice!”

”Clean placement!”

Reeve swallowed and focused. He could see the next block moving back and forth faster than the last. The rhythm had changed. Subtly. Intentionally.

He waited.

Pressed.

The third block landed true.

Cheers grew louder.

By the fourth block, Reeve noticed something was wrong.

The movement speed had increased again. The block slid left and right with a sharpness that made his eyes struggle to keep up. His timing slipped by a fraction.

He pressed anyway.

The block settled.

But unlike earlier, it settled imperfectly.

Then much to his and everyone’s surprise, the platform beneath his feet lurched.

”?!”

Reeve flailed instinctively, arms windmilling as the floor beneath him shifted in response to the imbalance above.

The crowd screamed.

”What was that?!”

”The floor moved!”

”That thing moves with the stack?!”

Even those watching the livestream jolted, feeds filling with frantic messages and rapid-fire punctuation telling Reeve to get it together.

The current sacrificial lamb’s heart slammed against his ribs as he fought to keep his balance. The next block appeared, moving even faster now, like it had sensed weakness.

”This is fine,” he muttered faintly. ”This is absolutely fine.”

Princess Kira watched with delight.

”Excellent reaction,” she praised.

That didn’t help.

By the fifth block, the platform was swaying gently, like a rocking boat.

His hands were shaking.

The block blurred.

He blinked hard.

Sixteenth block.

No. Nineteenth.

No. Twentieth.

His mind was losing count.

Just one more.

Just one more.

The ground beneath him rocked again, harder this time, like the machine itself was daring him to fail.

Reeve shut his eyes.

”I can’t see it,” he whispered. ”I actually can’t see it.”

The timer ticked.

He pressed the button anyway.

The world swayed.

For a terrifying second, he thought he was falling.

Then the machine erupted.

Lights lit up all at once. Music swelled. A rapid series of popping sounds followed, as if the machine itself were marking a major milestone.

The structure hummed and shook, lights flashing and chimes ringing, thoroughly convinced that the moment deserved celebration.

Reeve opened his eyes.

The platform steadied.

Beside him, Thea was losing her mind.

”REEVE! IT SAYS YOU WON SOMETHING!” she shrieked, clutching the edge of the machine. ”I don’t know what this does, but it has to be good! Look at how happy it is!”

Golden strips spilled out in a shimmering cascade.

More followed.

The pile grew.

The machine chirped happily as Princess Kira clapped loudly, nodding with approval.

”Oh! Those?” she said cheerfully, pointing at the golden strips. ”Those golden stubs are the tickets.”

She tilted her head, reading the display.

”And the machine says he just won one hundred tickets.”

Silence.

Then.

”WHAT?!” Thea croaked. ”ONE HUNDRED TICKETS?!”

Every head turned to Reeve.

How could they not?

Because the same rare goods people had been crying about on stream were priced at just five hundred tickets.

Nowhere near impossible.

And with that realization, even Owen and his friends, who had just arrived and were still trying to figure out what was happening, froze in place.

Kyle Nox’s earlier words suddenly made surprising sense.

Holy hell.