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

If the world, as they knew it, ended today, one hard-working mule would totally understand.

"WHAT?!"

It was barely lunchtime, and it already seemed as though everything had collapsed, especially after hearing the new problem.

"You're telling me the Registration Office has been mobbed?"

"Yes, sir."

"Are you positive?"

Apparently, he was.

Killian stared in disbelief at the aide who brought the news, as if sheer incredulity might force the words to change. But they didn't. The aide repeated himself with painful clarity.

The Registration Office had been mobbed.

By citizens. By other researchers. And—unbelievably—by the master mechanics themselves, who had hobbled their way across the capital in search of information about that mecha.

And Killian, unfortunately, was very familiar with that mecha.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling his consciousness slipping as if the gods themselves had decided he wasn't allowed to have one peaceful day. Another issue had piled itself on top of the endless preparations for tomorrow's auction.

Because apparently, researchers who were swearing on their ancestors were claiming that one moment, the people of House Kyros were there, and the next moment, they weren't. All that had been left behind was a criminal tied to a bed, still mumbling about selling information and bald spots.

So much for advanced preparations.

Killian's temples throbbed. His patience cracked. And then, like a lightning bolt, a thought struck him right as the aide wisely retreated, leaving him to wallow in agony.

His eyes widened.

In all the chaos, while he had been worrying about the cadets and the members of House Kyros, he had somehow overlooked the most crucial detail of all.

The critical people.

The ones who could decide whether he lived or died. The same ones he had forgotten.

But right now, he couldn't even ask about them. The only thing he could reasonably do was look for the Marshal, who should have been with them.

But what do you know? When it rains, it fucking pours.

Because apparently, there was also no trace of the Marshal who was supposed to be there!

Killian froze. His mind went blank for three full seconds, and then he shut his eyes as if the darkness could somehow reset the world.

It didn't.

His fingers threaded into his hair, and for one horrifying moment, it looked like he was about to rip it all out by the roots.

"Three," he muttered. His voice was low, strangled.

"Two," louder this time, teeth clenched.

"One."

And with that pitiful attempt at composure, the Chief of Staff vanished too.

__

Heaven.

If Uno, trusted shadow of the Empress of Solaris, were asked to describe heaven, it would probably be something like this.

The smell of flowers.

The soft feel of grass beneath his back.

The lightness of his body, as though every burden had finally lifted away.

Yes, this was heaven.

He let out a slow breath, his lips curling faintly as though even shadows deserved peace once in a while.

And then he opened his eyes.

…

"?!"

"!!!"

Instead of celestial skies and divine radiance, the heavens had apparently chosen the form of three identical faces hovering directly above him.

Uno's body stiffened. His pupils shrank. The once heavenly illusion shattered like cheap glass.

And then came the scream.

Loud. Piercing. The kind of scream that could make even Imperial walls tremble.

The three not-so-old-looking elders jumped back, startled by the sheer volume.

But before they could even ask what was wrong, Uno's body gave a final twitch… and he fainted dead away.

The "heavenly" peace returned, but only because he was unconscious.

But the same could not be said for everyone else, all of whom were prompted by the scream and were now staring at each other like there were aliens and impostors among them.

Then again, how exactly should they react when, on the grassy ground of the dungeon space, there lay the cadets, Butler Gary, the Duke, the Duchess, the Marshal, and three civilians—one of whom had just been shocked into an existential crisis by three overly curious elders.

"..."

"..."

"..."

Seconds before this standstill, groans broke out as people stirred, reacting to the sudden jolt of being dumped unceremoniously into the dungeon space without passing through their usual doors.

And that would have been fine, except as they sat up and tried to check on one another, Duchess Amelia's eye twitched.

Because now, as composure tried to awkwardly stitch itself back together, the group froze in place.

They sat stiffly on the grass, staring at one another, eyes darting, but every other body part locked as though even breathing too loudly might tip the balance and send the whole place crashing down.

And then, naturally, the peace was obliterated.

"Are you all alright?"

Luca's voice rang out brightly as he rushed to check on everyone.

He turned to check on Xavier first.

Relief flooded him as his eyes scanned for his brother's hair before moving on to the rest of their friends. Then, without hesitation, he turned toward the stunned nobles.

"Mama? Papa? Are you alright?"

The air snapped tight.

Then he pivoted again.

"Mother-in-law? Father-in-law? Are you alright? What about the Marshal? Does Sir Uno need medical attention again?"

He looked around frantically, as if he might have missed someone.

But unbeknownst to him, everyone else had already stopped dead in their tracks the moment he said "Mother-in-law" and "Father-in-law."

Even Ollie, whose hair antenna had been known to survive natural calamities, was standing so straight it might as well have volunteered as a flagpole.

But amidst the gasps of the onlookers, with even Cece tripping in her shock as she rushed to see everyone who had arrived, one latecomer whose very life was at stake came barreling forward.

Killian.

He skidded to a stop, chest heaving, knuckles white, and finally exclaimed between pants, "Your Majesties! You're alive! How could you just disappear on us like that?! They have gone ballistic out there!"

The words left his mouth as his knees hit the ground in sheer relief.

And then the silence came.

Every head turned.

Every pair of eyes, every straightened back, whipped toward him in perfect, horrifying unison.

"What...?"

"???"

"!!!"

Killian froze.

His face drained of color as his brain caught up to what his mouth had just done.

The Empire's most reliable Chief of Staff had, in front of everyone, blurted out what no one else dared confirm aloud.

At this point, only divine intervention in the form of a sinkhole could save him.

Unfortunately, the ground had chosen today of all days to stubbornly refuse.