The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] novel Chapter 630

Chapter 630: What Could Be Worse?

Diplomacy. Eloquence. Calculations.

In general, these were things they should’ve been good at—excelled at, even.

They had faced war councils, negotiated with hostile races, and spoken words that shifted entire star systems. But in the face of their own flesh and blood?

They were reduced to gawking attendants who couldn’t even squeak.

It took Marshal Julian—sweating bullets, jaw tight—to cut in with a booming greeting toward Duke Leander, Duchess Amelia, and their party. His words were clumsy, but they worked. Attention swerved toward him, giving the monarchs precious seconds to recover.

It was successful. Or at least as successful as anything that haphazard could be.

Still, Empress Gisella was thankful.

Because for one terrifying moment, her heart had almost stopped.

And how could it not, when she saw him?

Tall now, shoulders broad, every line of his body exuded a presence that commanded attention. His white hair caught the light like strands of silver silk, and those azure eyes—so unmistakably his father’s—cut through the room with a quiet strength.

There was no mistaking him. No pretending otherwise.

This was her son. Her child.

Xavier.

And yet... There wasn’t a trace of a child left in him. Not in his physique. Not in his gait. Not in his composure.

He had grown up.

Yes, there had been photos, videos, calls, and even the occasional message. But nothing—nothing—could compare to this. Seeing him in the flesh, standing there not as the boy she had kissed goodnight but as the man before her.

The Empress clutched her chest, breath shaky.

So many emotions warred inside her. Joy. Relief. Pride. But as she tried to sort through them, one realization cut through all the rest like a blade.

What could possibly be worse than seeing your child after so long?

Apparently, it was seeing him as a supposed stranger.

From where she stood in disguise, only a few feet away yet separated by what felt like light years, she could only watch.

And what she saw was a scene that might have been comedic to anyone else.

Duke Leander was flailing dramatically, arms flying as though he meant to wrestle the heavens themselves, while his family tried—and failed—to calm him down. Nearby, Marshal Julian stood stiff as a board, his expression a masterpiece of denial as he desperately pretended not to flinch at every outburst.

And then there was Xavier—her Xavier—standing so naturally, so comfortably close to the Duke, the Duchess, and that cadet who could only be Luca Kyros.

Her son’s circle was there too. Kyle Nox, steady as stone, was carrying someone in his arms while angling closer to Xavier, as if trying to whisper something urgent. And Jax—that sunny child—was off to the side, chattering away to an increasingly exasperated butler who looked two seconds from resignation.

It was chaotic. Messy. Loud.

But it was also warm.

Because Xavier fit.

From where she stood, she could only watch. Watch as her son mingled with them, stood with them, and moved with them. Watch as he leaned into that chaos like it was the most natural thing in the world, a warm family.

But it was a warmth she felt iced out of.

Because as she looked on, she realized the truth.

She was a ghost.

Not a mother. Not here.

She had to be only a ghost: watching, hearing, looking. But never touching. Never hugging. Never acknowledging.

She, the Empress of the Empire of Solaris, the woman whose words could sway armies, could not even whisper the word that burned on her tongue.

"Son."

How ironic.

And how utterly, unbearably painful.

No wonder her mother-in-law had told her to steel her heart.

And how arrogant she had been to believe she’d already prepared herself, that she had accepted all of it long ago. Apparently, such things could only be uttered by those who had yet to become parents.

She had been the happiest person alive when Xavier was born. Even if their child was unusual—different in ways the whispers never failed to point out—there was nothing that could have made her happier.

They had worked harder after that. Tirelessly. Wanting to give him a better Solaris, a better future.

But then came the reminder. The cold, official decree of how heirs were to be raised.

That was when she had nearly gone mad. She had almost taken back every word she had spoken about being ready to let go, the very same vow she had given when she married into the Imperial family.

They had tried to change it. They truly did. Even her husband had prepared ways to shift the system, to carve a new path so their child would not have to grow up like all the heirs before him.

But reality struck harder than they expected.

Verify captcha to read the contentVerify