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

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That was a good word to describe the dinner service that had captured everyone’s attention. But at the same time, it wasn’t a word good enough to illustrate just how big a deal it became.

Maybe sensational? Celebrated?

Well, probably all of the above. Because there were so many things being discussed that some topics practically sprouted legs and grew into their own topics.

Like the venue.

The food.

The experience.

And then, inevitably, the restaurateur.

Ahem.

After witnessing one shock after another throughout the day, guests and netizens alike couldn’t help but start speculating. They argued about what the restaurant and café would really be like, as if trying to predict the future through sheer enthusiasm alone.

But what actually fueled the discussions was when the other sections of the booth that required hands-on guidance were temporarily closed for a short break.

If they were partially closing up shop, which was unheard of at the Annual Expo, then there was probably a very good reason!

Naturally, everyone’s attention converged on the main attraction.

The dinner service.

It wasn’t as if they were entirely unfamiliar with places where people gathered to eat. Cafeterias existed. Academies had them for training and familiarity. Elite households with long histories boasted grand halls where gatherings could take place, serving food that looked relatively great.

And with barely anyone knowing any better, if something looked good, then the taste was probably acceptable.

Right?

Sure. That was the case up until months ago.

But after the sudden revolution that had swept across the Empire and after everything they had tasted and ogled all day, how could their standards possibly return to what they once were?

They just didn’t expect so many ways to dine when it used to be as easy as taking a packet, opening said packet, and gulping all of its contents. Done.

So when the remaining fortunate guests moved to the restaurant after finishing up with the class and taking a short arcade break, they didn’t really know what to expect beyond tables, chairs, and possibly plants.

But instead of just that, they saw what could only be described as a lavish landscape space that didn’t look remotely like a grand hall.

Chairs and tables were scattered in gentle curves, placed as if the greenery itself had dictated where people should sit. Pathways wound naturally through foliage instead of cutting straight lines through it. And as the crowd gathered, the sky above began to shift.

The sun dipped low, bathing the glass ceiling in warm gold. Light filtered through leaves and branches, softening every edge. One by one, small lights flickered to life around them.

”!!!”

Right above their heads, by the ground, and wrapped around the trees. It was a delicate glow through the greenery like something out of a bedtime story.

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

This wasn’t neon brilliance and was definitely a far cry from the flashing panels and sharp illumination.

Instead, it felt gentle. Cozy. Almost intimate. And for people accustomed to cold, efficient lighting, it felt shocking in the most unexpected way.

They barely had time to recover before movement caught their attention.

From the side, a familiar cadet stepped forward.

Only now, he felt different once again.

Xavier was dressed in a tailored suit that leaned closer to a butler’s uniform than anything anyone had seen him wear before. Clean lines. Dark fabric. Subtle accents. His hair was still tied back, every strand rightfully in place. As he greeted the guests, his posture was immaculate and his movements effortless.

People straightened without realizing it.

Against the soft lights and the golden glow of sunset, he looked almost unreal. As if he belonged there more than anyone else.

At least, that was what Princess Nina thought. Her big brother bathed in the light actually looked like he was sparkling.

Well, apparently she wasn’t just imagining things, for Reeve’s livestream exploded for the very same reason.

The chat flooded so fast that messages stacked over one another, squeals and incoherent praise pouring in faster than they could be read. Screens filled with hearts, exclamations, and poorly restrained enthusiasm. Some viewers were so busy reacting that they nearly missed what Xavier was saying.

Nearly.

With calm elegance, he explained the evening’s options with so many words that those in the know felt the need to record it.

But thankfully, the others weren’t focused on counting how many words he used and were instead too focused on his face or on the actual explanation.

Guests who preferred a traditional dining experience could be seated and served.

Those who wanted something more relaxed could choose a picnic-style meal amid the greenery.

And for larger groups or the particularly curious, there was a third option. An interactive experience where they could participate in preparing part of their food.

”?!”

As expected, the moment choices were placed in front of people, hesitation followed.

Hands hovered. Glances were exchanged. Conversations stalled mid-sentence as guests weighed options with the seriousness of deciding their own fate.

Just when the tension threatened to stretch a little too far, a young blond raised his hand.

”Excuse me, my lord! We happen to have a reservation for the campfire dinner,” he said, voice steady despite the attention instantly turning toward him.

The atmosphere cracked.

From the side, a much shorter blond bounded forward, his grin impossibly wide and his hair bouncing with every step. He was dressed differently now. Gone was the minimart uniform. In its place was something more fitting for the evening. It looked rather formal and yet it was unmistakably Ollie.

”Hello, dear customers!” he said cheerfully, clapping his hands together.

”Welcome, welcome,” the bright mop continued, flashing a grin at his younger brother that made it impossible not to relax.

”I’m Ollie and I’m here to assist you today. You’re right on time. I’ll take you over to your spot and walk you through tonight’s menu. Just follow me and we’ll get you settled.”

The stunned Owen turned to look at his friends then his parents.

They exchanged a glance. Then nodded and the teens followed obediently.

That was all it took.

The ice shattered.

Guests began stepping forward, choices made with visible relief. And yet, something curious happened. Several people, including the Empire’s leaders, deliberately went last. Instead of going first they actually lingered back.

Well, that was because they were waiting.

At first, it seemed like simple courtesy that was especially appreciated by the commoners.

But in truth, they were the lot that quietly came to the same conclusion. If they went last, then they would be able to get assistance from their own children with less pressure.

If they did it like that then they’d be able to talk for longer!

And as if operating with one brain, the parents and family members of the guild members became keen on doing that.

Duke Leander, in particular, was unwavering.

Chair. Floor. Booth. It did not matter.

As long as their son was the one assisting them, he would sit anywhere without complaint.

But then something happened.

The couple standing nearby, Count Alexander and Countess Jenna, were handed a picnic basket. Their child Jax explained, beaming, that this option would allow them to dine while staying close to their great-grandchildren.

The Duke’s nose twitched.

Once.

Twice.

Sniff. Sniff.

Something smelled good.

No.

Wait.

Wasn’t that a little too good?!

And it was in fact a little too good for the hearts and minds of the people of the Empire.

Especially when they witnessed a different kind of performance.