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

Twice.

The idea alone was enough to rattle people.

For most of the Empire, even getting in once already felt like winning the lottery. Reaching the sample stall was a dream people barely dared to voice aloud.. And yet here they were, being told that some people could go in more than once.

Twice.

Star Net promptly lost its composure.

Speculation exploded. Plans were drafted. Entire hypothetical lives were lived in comment sections. If they had a second chance, would they go straight to the food? The greenhouse? The machines? Would they sprint? Would they cry? Or would they simply sit on the floor and absorb the moment until they were escorted out?

They had all sorts of scenarios for a moment they could only hope would come. But all the while, completely unaware of the chaos she had caused, the princess who could go in twice was quietly upset about something else entirely.

Why could she not see everyone every day?

Princess Nina could understand, but she silently didn’t want to accept the distressing fact. They were all here. They may not be breathing the same air—because DG’s booth probably had better air—but in the end, they were still in the same venue.

So why couldn’t she just run up to them?

She even thought that if she were just a little older, maybe she could have joined DG herself. Then she wouldn’t have such restrictions and could maybe live there for days.

She could help, she was hard-working, and she could even lessen her snack consumption if she could just stay there. Because if that were possible, then she would be able to see everyone even when they were busy.

And maybe then, she wouldn’t be part of the group currently clogging the entrance because none of them were ready for what was on the other side.

To be fair, their entrance had been flawless.

Princess Nina had remembered to walk instead of run, even though every part of her wanted to launch herself straight at her brother chipmunk’s arms.

Even Duke Leander had miraculously stayed upright. He didn’t faint, nor did he dramatically clutch his chest. At least not just yet. And when the bestest person greeted them all with that gentle, welcoming smile of his, the Duke had only wobbled ever so slightly.

Clearly, in little Nina’s eyes they all did rather well.

They entered the tunnel in neat succession. Calm. Dignified. Proper.

Everything was fine.

Until it was not.

The moment they stepped out the other end, Princess Nina stopped.

Not because she wanted to, but because the others before her had stopped and she had to weasel her way between her parents just to see amidst the towering people around her.

Then she saw what had everyone stopping.

Her eyes widened.

Then widened more.

Then kept widening until her face forgot how to do anything else.

Woooow!

Princess Nina turned her head slowly.

Then she turned it again.

She craned her neck upward, downward, and then forward before eventually forgetting to move.

Her mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out.

Behind her, time passed.

No one walked.

No one spoke.

They were still standing right where they had exited.

Princess Nina was only vaguely aware that this might be strange when a small, worried voice finally broke through the silence.

”Papa?”

She blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Then she realized that her brother chipmunk was tugging gently at Duke Leander’s sleeve, looking up at him with concern.

Because Duke Leander was also not moving.

__

But really, what could anyone expect from a man who had already suffered so much?

Leander’s posture was rigid.

The kind of rigidity that suggested his body was present but his soul had very clearly vacated the premises and was currently touring the reception hall on its own.

He stood there, eyes wide, breathing shallow, taking in the sight that was unlike anything they had visited that day.

His soul was having a lovely time.

His body? Not so much.

But then a familiar voice cut through everything.

”Papa?”

Leander snapped back into existence.

”My son!” he roared with the sheer force of a man who had waited an entire lifetime. Or at least an entire day which was basically the same thing.

What followed was a scene best described as dramatic tragedy narrowly avoiding catastrophe.

The Duke lunged forward.

Lunged.

Arms outstretched. Expression feral with love. Entire being focused on one singular goal: to hug and congratulate his precious child for such a wonderful booth.

Time slowed.

Observers would later swear they could see the wind ripple dramatically behind him.

Unfortunately for Leander, he was not the only parent present.

The Duchess moved first.

She stepped in smoothly, decisively, and with the terrifying precision of someone who had absolutely predicted this outcome. One hand reached out, and in a single graceful motion, she claimed their son.

Leander skidded to a stop.

His arms closed around nothing.

His heart shattered.

Then Luca smiled at him.

”Papa,” Luca said warmly, leaning around his mother to look at him. ”I’m really happy you could come.”

Leander clutched his chest.

The world stabilized.

He was alive again.

And just to ensure total emotional devastation, Luca added, bright-eyed and hopeful, ”Can we take pictures together?”

Silence.

Then chaos.

”Pictures,” Leander repeated faintly.

His vision filled with stars.

Family pictures. Official event pictures. Pictures he could finally rub against the faces of those old crooks. Pictures that could be framed. Enlarged. Mounted. Turned into tasteful murals. Or slightly less tasteful murals.

He would sell an organ for this.

Two, if necessary.

”Yes,” Leander said immediately, already straightening his clothes. ”Of course we will take pictures. Many pictures. All the pictures.”

And just like that, the moment spiraled.

What Luca had expected to be a small, happy photo quickly escalated into a full-scale operation. Parents stepped in. In-laws appeared. Family friends who were still busy gawking earlier had snapped out of their contemplation. There was light shoving. Some very determined repositioning featuring a tiny princess. And at least one argument about optimal angles that was highly encouraged by one little system.

Luca, meanwhile, was delighted.

Everyone seemed to want photos with him!

His parents. His in-laws. People he recognized. And even people he would be meeting for the first time that day!

He laughed. He smiled. He leaned in.

He was already mentally organizing a very large photo album.

Maybe several.

His husband had been right! It really was fine to ask for photos. Encouraged, even. So later he should take photos of all his friends and their families!

But then Luca noticed movement at the edge of the group.

The orc delegation.

__

One by one, they stepped forward, expressions solemn and unmistakably serious.

Photos were requested and thankfully granted.

Because how could they not want proof?

They were warriors. Leaders. People with impeccable balance and iron steadiness. And yet they had almost toppled over the moment they saw what lay before them.

If they were going to be emotionally shaken, then they were at least going to be documented.

So they stood tall. Shoulders squared. Faces proud.

And very much unlike one Killian Nox, who figured that this was really how they would all die.

Well, he wasn’t particularly hunched, and he even managed to smile when he took a photo with one excited Luca Kyros. But he was also terribly realistic.

That if they had maybe a few targets behind their backs before, now he was sure they had thousands of them.

At least the good thing was how the lot of them would inevitably share everyone’s ire instead of just concentrating all of it on one young cadet.