The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] novel Chapter 653

Chapter 653: Sudden Preparations

Sure enough, before they could even exhale, five people landed in a familiar space.

Princess Nina’s drawing room.

"!!!"

Uno immediately felt his arms, then his legs, before confirming that yes, they had seriously just popped in from somewhere else.

Marshal Julian, meanwhile, sucked in a sharp breath. He wasn’t sure which part to address first or even what he could safely say outside.

And when his gaze slid over to Killian—who looked every bit sour and constipated—he finally understood why the young man always looked like he was about to keel over far too early in life.

All he could manage was, "You’ve worked hard," before giving him a pat on the back.

Killian wanted to scream. Whose fault did he think it was that he had worked so hard?!

But before the walking corpse could let loose his frustrations, a voice rang out.

"Killian."

Shit.

No title. No ceremony. Just his name, spoken the way it had been when he was still a boy playing around the palace.

The poor Chief of Staff practically creaked as he turned, stiff as a rusted automaton. "Yes, Your Majesty."

"Thank you."

"Huh?"

"Thank you for earlier."

"!!!"

"Oh no! Your Majesty, I heard it, but I just couldn’t understand why I am hearing it when I’ve yet to atone for my mistake!"

"Ah. I don’t particularly think it’s a mistake," Empress Gisella said, her face warm as her lips curved into a small smile.

"If the bandage of lies hadn’t been ripped off like that, I don’t think we would have gotten to this point."

She truly believed they would have been treated well, but the truth would have been a constant shadow. They would be forced away from certain topics, unable to give their full support, unable to even use names freely.

Worse, Xavier would have been forced to live like that for much longer. While he might have been willing to do so, she knew there was a difference between hiding from the public eye and hiding even from his comrades and friends.

But now the pertinent people knew. Now they could build better relationships.

They even got a dinner invite! The Empress could hardly keep the joy off her face.

Meanwhile, Killian just gaped at her. And his jaw dropped even further when she suddenly added, "After this auction, you ought to take the weekend off. I think you deserve at least that much."

"!!!"

Wait a moment. Killian’s eyes went wide, then narrowed suspiciously. Was this a polite precursor to being sacked? Or silenced?

But then the Empress said, amused, "I can tell what you’re thinking. It’s not that."

She had to bite back a laugh. People from the Nox family always carried that look, steeped in cynicism. But that was exactly what made them so good at what they did.

"It’s simply a break you’ll need before things actually get messier. And when else would you take it?"

And that was the honest truth. Yes, it was appreciation. But it was also out of concern. At this rate, if Killian kept pushing himself, the young man wouldn’t make it to next month.

But to Killian...

It was a weekend.

An actual weekend!

The overworked noble suddenly broke into manic laughter, the sound startling even himself. "Thank you for this gift, Your Majesty!" he cried, eyes shining like a lunatic. He was going to use it well. He was going to sleep in the space!

But before further pleasantries could be exchanged, a mighty presence appeared.

"And where have you all been?!"

Every head turned.

There, at the entrance of the room, stood a small child—Princess Nina herself.

She puffed out her cheeks, hands on her hips, trying with all her might to look terrifying. Her tiny foot stomped against the carpet, and her brows scrunched low as she glared at the adults like a general addressing deserters.

Big girls don’t cry just because they’re lonely. They just eat!

But it couldn’t be helped. Not when everyone was gazing at him with shining, expectant eyes.

Seriously... was that look contagious?

And so, the nightmare began.

Uno, who muttered under his breath that he’d look like a grave robber in the process but still did it with gusto, was tasked with gathering the necessary tools for what the others insisted on calling "cabin construction."

Princess Nina was given the very important responsibility of securing Butler Henry, Mr. Quackers, and Snowy, while also being told to fetch enough mattresses. But of course, how could a well-prepared princess stop at just mattresses? Plans were already brewing in her bright little head.

Killian’s list continued mercilessly.

The Marshal was told to come up with a plausible reason for his own sudden disappearance, as well as to set his terminal with the proper timers to avoid suspicion. If they took too long to come out and his morning meetings were missed, search parties would likely be launched.

The Emperor, meanwhile, had been asked to install virtual pods inside their quarters.

Why? Because if someone went looking for them in the middle of the night or came knocking in the morning, they couldn’t very well repeat what happened today—suddenly popping back into Princess Nina’s drawing room and surprising the unfortunate person who happened to be there before them.

Although really, Killian had a sinking feeling it was going to be harder than ever to track down any member of the Imperial Family after this fiasco.

Finally, everyone else was instructed to change into comfortable clothes.

"Is that really appropriate?" one of them asked nervously.

Uno even raised his hand half-heartedly. "I was... preparing to wear a formal suit." After all, it was a once-in-a-lifetime experience! Didn’t that warrant his best possible look?

Killian gave him the kind of look that made seasoned generals reconsider their careers.

"You’ll regret it if you do. In fact, I suggest you just bring as many comfortable clothes with you." After all, who ever came out of the dungeon space looking pristine after the first night?

And really, since when did dinners there end with just eating?

"Wait, Killian, what about a gift? Shouldn’t we bring a gift?"

"You already are, Your Majesty."

"...Excuse me?"

"Your Majesty," Killian said flatly. "It’s called manpower."