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

News travelled fast, but gossip travelled even faster.

Considering how transfixed and eager people were, everything that had to do with DG and House Kyros practically travelled around as if it had grown its own wings.

And by the time it reached a certain alleged powerhouse, it had swelled into something bloated and volatile, just waiting to burst.

The doors to the temporary office slammed open.

”Lord Magnus!”

Doyle Rook barreled in without waiting for permission, bald head gleaming under the lights as he waved his terminal like it was evidence in a trial. His face was red, expression twisted into its usual state of righteous outrage.

”We have a problem!” he barked. ”Those kids are doing something again!”

The Iron Panthers guild leader barely looked up.

Magnus Rowe sat comfortably behind his desk, one leg crossed over the other, terminal projected lazily in front of him. Lines of messages scrolled past at a dizzying pace. Screenshots. Alleged benefits. Bold claims. Louder speculation.

”Oh?” he said mildly but with eyes that didn’t match his tone. ”What’s so alarming that you barged in without knocking?”

Thankfully for one senior, he had never been the smartest tool in the shed and didn’t notice how his own guild leader looked murderous.

The man-child stomped forward. ”How can you not know?! The rumors are spreading everywhere. Th-these absurd benefits!”

Magnus flicked his eyes up at last.

”And?”

”And?!” Doyle slammed his hands on the desk. ”This changes things! We were ahead! But if this keeps up, even our advantage in learning about the rule changes early would end up meaningless.”

Magnus finally reached for his own terminal and scrolled through the rapidly multiplying reports. His brow lifted just a little.

”...Hah.”

That was it.

Just a laugh.

The senior guild member stared at him in disbelief before sputtering. ”My lord? You’re not taking this seriously!”

”I’m laughing,” Magnus confirmed. ”Because this is clearly House Kyros overpromising.”

He leaned back, tapping the screen with idle disinterest. ”Look at this. While much of it is simply monetary and can be done by anyone with sufficient funds, the other ones? I call bullshit.”

”Do you seriously think any of that is sustainable? Maybe once, as their signing bonus. But this says, regularly.”

”But the information... it’s allegedly coming from big shots—” Doyle shot back. ”Like those with actual noble titles.”

”Oh?”

The leader’s smile sharpened. ”Then even better.”

The flabbergasted member blinked. ”Better?”

”If everyone is implicated, then they can all suffer together once everything is exposed.”

The words landed with quiet finality.

”Huh?”

Magnus continued smoothly. ”If House Kyros trips over its own mouth, it makes replacing them much easier. A scandal like that would be perfect. One good stumble, and suddenly House Rowe looks far more suitable for a promotion.”

”But my lord,” Doyle said, rubbing his temples, ”what if they’re actually delivering.”

The seated man looked at him flatly.

”Do you seriously believe they’re giving even their lowest-level soldiers access to the same food when they’re not even allowing nobles full access?”

The lumbering giant opened his mouth, then stopped.

”And to begin with,” Magnus continued, voice even, ”do you actually believe they have a way to supply spiritual goods on that scale? If they had such a thing then why would they only show it now?”

”...”

”We’re still cadets as it is. So there’s a limit to what we can see. But what about the bigger houses? If this had been real then how come they haven’t said anything?”

”...But the other cadets from different guilds have reportedly verified that the samples were real,” Doyle insisted. ”They said they were genuine spiritual relics!”

Magnus rolled his eyes, thinking about why he had to keep explaining something so simple.

”Of course they’re real.”

”The Imperial family is inside the booth. Do you think anyone would dare pass off fakes under their noses? You don’t expect them to be that stupid, do you?”

”Then—”

”But that doesn’t mean they have enough,” Magnus cut in. ”Seeing something once isn’t the same as supplying it regularly.”

He leaned forward slightly.

”Do you have any idea how many soldiers they have? Sure, they’re saying they’ve found a way to cultivate them. But do you even know how long it takes for something to actually turn into a spiritual relic?”

”!”

”Who knows if they spent all those years in seclusion just to prepare for this moment? If so, how long would they be able to keep it up?”

Doyle opened his mouth only to close it once again.

Magnus pressed on. ”And look at this? Better mechas for even their average combatants?” He scoffed. ”That alone should have been a warning sign.”

He waved a hand dismissively.

”How many mechas can realistically be produced in a year? Even if they somehow planned to equip everyone, by the time that project finishes, the next generation of mechas would already exist.”

”And think about it. What does better even mean? Who knows if it’s just a small upgrade from the Imperial mechas?”

”But my lord, that little shit, isn’t he a licensed mechanic?”

”Yes. Obviously he’s got skills. But did you not read? It says even the average soldiers would get upgrades. Do you really think someone who made a mecha for the Marshal would make mechas for just anyone?”

Doyle rubbed his face, frustration seeping through his fingers. ”But the rumors are spreading.”

”Yes,” Magnus agreed pleasantly. ”Let them.”

Doyle stared at him.

”If they promise the impossible, and fail to deliver, then House Kyros won’t just fall. They’ll be dragged.”

He leaned back again, satisfied.

”And that would be very convenient for us.”

”But shouldn’t we do something? Anything?!”

Magnus tapped the arm of his chair thoughtfully.

”Aren’t we already doing something?” he asked, his tone lazy.

Doyle froze, then whipped around. ”Doing something? That’s just it, my lord!” he snapped.

”Those ingrates! We arranged for them to attend, but what do they do? They run straight to that booth instead of staying here!”

But to the giant’s surprise, their leader simply hummed, unimpressed.

”That’s perfect,” he said lightly. ”Let them.”

The confused member stared like he had just heard nonsense. ”Huh? Why would we want to do that?!”

Magnus finally sighed and rolled his eyes, the sound heavy with long-suffering disappointment.

”Think, Doyle,” he said patiently. ”Really think.”

Doyle crossed his arms. ”I am thinking!”

”Really? Then it would have been better if you weren’t,” Magnus replied without hesitation.

He leaned forward slightly. ”Once those cadets realize that their own schoolmates could have helped them get in but had chosen not to...”

Magnus smiled.

”How resentful do you think our guests will feel then?”

Doyle’s mouth opened.

Closed.

His brow furrowed before his face broke into a smile.

”...Oh.”