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

As one could expect, various thoughts flooded her mind, and for a brief moment, she was forced to truly consider her situation.

She was standing right there, on the verge of deciding how she ought to treat this person.

Now, normally, that wouldn’t have been problematic. It was a decision people unconsciously made every day for nearly every encounter. But in this case, she had already interacted with him and had already formed her own impressions.

In fact, the entire situation existed because she had arrived at the wrong conclusion in the first place.

And yet, what was this?

Instead of properly learning from that very fresh mistake, she was once again on the brink of forming another opinion based on an observation she knew, without a doubt, was clouded by prejudice.

That realization forced a pause.

Because if she was going to judge him, then she needed to be honest with herself about the lens she was using.

Was she thinking as the unfortunate royal who had just uncovered elven involvement in the recent battle at Zone Four?

Was she thinking as a member of DG, sworn to treat every customer fairly and without discrimination?

Or better yet, was she thinking with the same graceful mind her friends had used when they evaluated her and the Orcs?

At this point, the answers were painfully obvious.

It wouldn’t have been difficult to disguise her judgment as a leader’s natural wariness toward threats to her people. She could have wrapped it in responsibility, duty, and vigilance.

But she was self-aware enough to know that doing so would be nothing more than a load of crap.

So she stopped herself short.

She stared at the man in front of her, who was looking back at her with wide, watery, and utterly googly eyes.

See? Even now, the nice-smelling soap looked like he was on the verge of crying at any second.

”...”

”...”

Honestly, if this was the kind of enemy the elves were preparing to deploy against her and her people, as shameful as it was to admit, she could see how it might work.

Because who would ever expect ruin to come from something like this?

Then again, setting aside pretty privilege, Princess Kira’s mind was still capable of moving quickly when it mattered. In the span of time it would usually take her to fling someone across a room, she had already laid out several important points.

First, would she have liked it if her current guildmates judged her for the deeds of her ancestors?

Absolutely not.

Second, did she dislike him before learning that he was an elf?

No. Not particularly.

Third, if she suddenly changed her attitude toward him, not because of anything he had done, but because of his ears, then what, exactly, would differentiate her from the rebels she despised?

”...”

And lastly, for someone who looked like he didn’t even want to be an elf at this very moment, would it really be proper to scorn him for that?

Another resounding no.

Haaay!

Her thoughts churned and folded in on themselves until they finally snagged on something. Or rather, someone.

Prince Silarion.

A respectable elf.

And just like that, as another unfortunate gush of blood streamed from this man’s nose, there was no longer any way to avoid the association with the ancient prince everyone had failed.

That was when her resolve crystallized.

If it turned out that they would have to battle because googly eyes was somehow the greatest villain of them all, then she would take him down herself.

After all, she was Princess Muscle Muscle.

But until the day they could stand in a fair head-to-head, without the soap bar looking like he might be claimed by the gods before they even exchanged blows, she would find ways to help instead.

__

With a mind firmly set on ensuring that no wandering critters were lurking nearby, Princess Kira had gone out of her way to gently invite, or more accurately, coerce them into waiting while someone checked on the frail soap.

Naturally, this took a bit of effort.

What the secretive duo experienced when Theo first arrived, however, was merely the first result of the Orcish Princess’s determined intervention.

Princess Kira knew better than to act alone beyond this point. While having the patient checked with a medical wand was a complete non-issue and practically standard protocol, anything beyond that needed to go through the others.

Yet, surprisingly, or perhaps unsurprisingly, even after she thoroughly explained everything that had happened including how she had once again had an issue with mistaken identity, the response she received was approval for Theo to check on the patient first.

Yes! She was right!

More than anything else at this moment, this soap was a patient.

That was really the right decision!

Unfortunately, the mystery surrounding said patient proved to be anything but simple, as Theo emerged from their first encounter looking extremely stumped.

__

The budding Pharmacy cadet followed protocol.

While it might seem tedious, there was a reason things were done that way.

So if he wanted to do it properly, it was best to do it again.

”Sorry,” he said quietly as he lifted the medical wand again. ”I know this is probably repetitive, but I need to retest you as part of standard procedure.”

The man only nodded.

That was it. No flinch. No question. No tension.

Just acceptance.

Theo paused for half a second longer than necessary, struck by how practiced the response felt. As if this was something that had been done to him countless times before, to the point where resisting or reacting no longer seemed worth the effort.

If anything, he clearly didn’t have the king of fear that most patients would have before they got to determine what kind of illness they were really suffering from.

”...Alright,” Theo murmured, more to himself than anyone else.

He activated the wand.

A soft hum filled the air as the device swept slowly from Elior’s chest to his abdomen, then up again, light tracing along his body in clean, precise lines. Theo watched the readout carefully, brow furrowing almost immediately.

Clean.

He ran it again, slower this time.

Still clean.

As with most healthy people, he didn’t have anything above or below acceptable ranges; he also didn’t have infections or the like that would trigger a prompt, and it seemed his organs were functioning as expected.

Theo exhaled through his nose and glanced up. Elior was sitting there patiently, eyes lowered, hands resting neatly on his knees as though he were waiting to be dismissed.

Others would have said there was no visible indication in his posture. But for Theo, who had seen a lot of patients, he was more than aware that nothing could be as loud as quiet resignation.

It was ironic but definitely true.

And he couldn’t help but think about things, especially considering what had happened earlier.

Before meeting up with these two, Princess Kira had actually given him a scathing review of every medical wand they owned, insisting that they were all defective when each one returned the same impossible result. At the time, Theo had thought it was just her frustration talking.

Now, he wasn’t so sure.

Because Princess Kira wasn’t careless anymore. After Zone Four, she had become frighteningly competent with medical tools, including the wand. There was no chance she had made the same mistake over and over again.

Still, Theo had not fully understood what she meant until now.

After guiding them into one of the makeshift resting areas reserved for visitors who had not quite survived the shock of DG’s expo booth, he finally saw it.

At first glance, Elior didn’t really look sick.

In fact, without the orc’s particularly sharp senses, most people would have missed it entirely. Theo himself almost had. The elf was tall, broad-shouldered, and well-built. Muscles filled out his frame naturally, and there was nothing immediately alarming about his posture or breathing.

If not for Princess Kira’s insistence, Theo would have initially assumed he was also an overwhelmed guest.

But then Elior removed the initial layers of his clothing, and Theo finally saw him properly.

His breath caught before he could stop it.

Even among elves, and especially when compared to the other elf beside him, this couldn’t possibly be normal. The faint discoloration beneath the skin. The way he could see blood vessels, he shouldn’t really be seeing at this point. The subtle tension in his shoulders, like his body was constantly bracing against something unseen.

After constantly being surrounded by people who now looked a little too healthy, this couldn’t be further from healthy and well.

This was someone sick enough that his body was showing signs that medical wands just refused to pick up.

Theo swallowed and lowered the wand. ”Thank you for bearing with me,” he said gently.

Elior simply nodded.

Theo glanced at the readout one more time, as if it might change if he stared long enough.

It didn’t.

Princess Kira had been right.

The worried cadet rubbed the back of his neck, unease settling into his chest. ”That’s...strange,” he admitted quietly. ”You’re not showing any abnormal readings.”

Elior didn’t look surprised.

If anything, his expression softened slightly, as though he had expected this outcome all along.

But when he turned and saw the hope in the assistant’s eyes, Theo figured he was hoping he’d discover something.

That did it.

The cadet straightened, decision forming quickly in his mind. ”I’m going to get a second opinion,” he said. ”If you could please bear with me a little more.”

The elf nodded again, calm as ever.

So Theo thought he should get a bigger gun.

And if that still didn’t work, didn’t they have even bigger guns?