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

Princess Kira, after all, was a generous orc. One who had been carefully educated under the very practical tutelage of certain shrewd businessmen by the names of Luca Kyros and Oliver Mylor. Therefore, sharing something good was not only a virtue but also good sense.

More importantly, the guild had already realized that this sort of thing would do wonders for brand recall. It would linger. It would be talked about. And in the unlikely event that someone somehow forgot what they had seen here today, this would serve as the perfect reminder.

After all, when the idea was first brought up, one particular guild leader had still been under the impression that they would need to actively work on marketing.

In hindsight, that was rather adorable.

There was clearly no need for that now.

Still, even knowing that, Princess Kira felt that what she was about to present deserved its own moment. Not buried under excitement. Not rushed through. Not overshadowed by chaos.

So she straightened, cleared her throat lightly, and prepared to show everyone exactly why this had changed her outlook so completely.

And why, once seen, it could never be unseen.

With deliberate care, Princess Kira reached beneath the counter and placed several neatly stacked boxes on top for everyone to see.

The crowd fell into confused silence.

Boxes?

Before anyone could ask, the princess lifted one and slowly opened it.

The inside unfolded into a structured space.

A very small one.

Walls formed first, followed by flat surfaces arranged at varying heights. There were narrow counters with smooth finishes, tiny compartments that opened and closed, and a raised section with circular markings.

It took a moment. But eventually someone came to a realization.

”Ah! Ah! T-that! That’s a kitchen!”

A tiny one.

A perfect one.

”Yes! This is a kitchen playset!”

”Look, look!” she continued excitedly, pointing at each part in turn. ”These are the counters where food is prepared. And these are cabinets for storage. This part here is the stove. See the little knobs? That’s how you control the heat. It doesn’t have fire but something like this would come out!” She tried turning the small knob, and to everyone’s utter surprise there were really tiny buds that looked so much like flames.

Her finger slid to the next section. ”And this is the sink. See how it even has a proper basin?”

She gestured to the shelves lining the back. ”Those jars and tools are utensils. They’re small, but they all have their own purpose.”

Princess Kira picked up one of the tiniest items and held it up reverently. ”There are even hanging pans. A cutting board. And look at this.” She smiled in pure delight. ”A kettle. It even looks like it’s been used already.”

She clasped her hands together, beaming. ”Isn’t it wonderful?”

It looked like a dream kitchen lovingly scaled down for someone very small. Like very, very small.

Princess Kira let out a satisfied hum before picking up a Luca plushie and placing it behind the tiny counter.

”Look,” she said cheerfully, adjusting its little hands. ”It fits perfectly.”

She made the plushie lean forward slightly, as if it were busy preparing something. Then she turned its head toward the crowd and gave a small wave.

Duke Leander stopped breathing.

This.

This was it.

Hundreds of statues. Life sized sculptures. Glorious marble tributes. All of them instantly lost their meaning in the face of this tiny kitchen and the small plush version of his son standing behind it.

This was better.

Far better.

He had never thought something so small could strike him so deeply.

And he was not alone.

Princess Nina was already staring at the playset with laser focus, her lips moving as she silently calculated every Star Coin she owned and how she could possibly use all of it to buy credits for the machines. Her expression turned grim with determination as she began planning which privileges she could sacrifice to request for a curfew extension.

Dessert for a month?

Had she thought of that before, she would’ve come to the conclusion that it was a death sentence. But in the face of something so important it seemed acceptable.

Because there was no universe in which she was leaving without that kitchen.

And that thing. That box said to be a restaurant. She wouldn’t dare go home without them, especially after learning that they could be attached together.

”!!!”

__

With the price of the plushie as well as the price of their respective playsets, there really was no time to waste.

There was a flurry of movement. One would have expected things to be calm, leisurely, and most of all, poised, considering the high profile attendees that had recently taken over the Activity Center.

But Reeve felt like he was standing at the intersection of several tornadoes as everyone stared at each other for half a second before bolting toward the machines.

His livestream descended into complete disarray.

At first, the chat had been filled with frantic concern about Reeve dying due to a lack of etiquette and for existing in the same space and breathing the same air as the Imperial family. But now?

What formal greeting?

What need for Imperial decorum?

All of that had been thrown away when even the Empress was nowhere to be seen after vehemently delegating tasks to an unusual group of people that included the Emperor, the Imperial Princess, the Imperial Butler, and, quite surprisingly and seemingly against his will, the Marshal.

Reeve did not really understand what was happening, which was understandable.

Because how was he supposed to know that the Imperial family could not care less about rare herbs when compared to the urgency of securing plushies and playsets of the Imperial Crown Prince, as well as a set of their newest relative, Luca?

When else would they ever see a plushie of Xavier?

Had anyone even noticed the way the tiny lip on that plushie was curved?

And more importantly, what exactly was inside that box of his? They needed to see what was in those compartments.

If not now, then perhaps not even after death would there ever be another chance to obtain something rarer than the crowns on their own heads.

If circumstances allowed, they would have wanted one of each DG member, with an extra set for each of them. But with only one hundred of each made, they realistically had to prepare for the worst-case scenario of going home with only those two sets.

Moreover, with those sets clearly imbued with such dense spiritual energy, even those who had no intention of keeping them as memorabilia were entering the fray for obvious reasons.

Those small boxes could very well be passed down as family heirlooms.

If that was not an emergency, then what else could possibly qualify?

Surely, the others recognized the severity of the situation.

Duke Leander had clearly decided to live and die on that machine. And while one should not hog a game, there were not many others willing to challenge it after realizing that one needed to be a completely different caliber of monster to earn two hundred tickets there.

As people who wished to preserve both their dignity and their joints, many instead opted for other machines.

Even Duchess Amelia had rolled up her sleeves and joined in, determined to try multiple games as a mother who needed at least two sets to feel truly satisfied.

The other families were much the same.

The Mylors, who functioned like a sports team unit, were in an advantageous position thanks to their overwhelming numbers. Then there were the Nox family members, including one visibly reluctant Killian, who could be seen running around to compile data before committing fully.

The Taylors were no different. Although they had arrived later after a private tour, the moment Countess Jenna saw that Jax’s playset included tiny plants, she was energized enough to last an entire week.

If her husband could not use all that hand-eye coordination to win at these games, then what was even the point of continuing their family business?

It was a threat delivered with a smile.

Elsewhere, similar conversations were happening. It was just that this particular one lacked much smiling, as King Garrick was already mobilizing people with the wild intention of obtaining every available plushie and playset of his child.

That said, after being influenced by humans and learning to be more mellow, the King eventually remarked that he would be satisfied with just one set of the other members. This was after initially believing that ten of each would be a conservative number.

Still, how could the King be allowed to redeem everything when elsewhere that’s definitely outside of the newly sacred space, others were already doing mental calculations on how they could even get inside DG’s booth?

Having the playset would be ideal.

But all things considered, especially for one heavily bothered piner, even just her plushie would do.

The question was whether they could even enter the place to get their hands on one.