The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] novel Chapter 724

Chapter 724: The Hero

It was warm.

A soft, golden warmth brushed against his face.

"Ughh...!"

He groaned faintly, his eyes still heavy as he shifted under what felt like a blanket.

But it wasn’t a bad feeling. In fact, the air felt fresh, and the rhythmic hush of wind that brushed past his face carried the faint scent of grass.

Grass.

"Hmm..."

He blinked. Once. Twice. The light filtered through his lashes, warm and comforting, and yet—

Wait.

Sunlight?

His eyes snapped open.

Then he froze just as sunlight hit his face.

There shouldn’t be sunlight here.

"???"

Leander bolted upright, the blanket falling from his shoulders. His heart pounded as his gaze darted around—a familiar ceiling, an open window, and that view of trees, grass, and flowers—all of it bathed in gentle daylight.

"!!!"

"Oh no!" he croaked, eyes wide. Because unless something had gone terribly wrong, his last view shouldn’t have been sunlight and fresh air; it should have been a ginormous, tentacled monster!

His shout startled a waiting steward, who turned toward him in alarm.

"Your Grace! You’re awake!" cried Steward Han, visibly relieved.

"My son! Where’s my son?!" demanded the Duke, who was sure something bad had happened because he couldn’t have possibly heard such terrible last words as, ’Husband! Did you hit it?’ Right?

The steward blinked rapidly, lips twitching, unsure how to answer that particular line.

But the Duke apparently didn’t need to worry. Because before he could throw himself out of bed and start another large-scale search for his offspring, the door to the medical bay opened—revealing the very son he’d been looking for.

"Papa! You’re awake!"

The father’s eyes went wide with relief. "My son!"

Then his relief died almost instantly.

Because the normally pristine boy—his neat, golden-eyed, spotless, shining pride—was currently standing there looking like a disheveled tree. His hair stuck up in several directions, his eyes were ringed with dark circles, and his expression, though bright, screamed exhaustion.

Leander gasped in horror. "My son! What happened to you?! Who did this?!"

"Papa?" Luca tilted his head.

"You look ill! Is it malnutrition? Dehydration? Fatigue?!" the Duke continued dramatically, clutching his chest. "Are you hurt?!"

On the side, however, one steward was silently gaping.

Because, honestly, if the Duke had just taken a moment to look in a mirror, he would have seen the problem immediately.

His own reflection.

That well-rested, radiant, youthful glow practically screamed I’ve been asleep for days without a care in the world.

And maybe then, he’d realize that aside from all the work and exhaustion, HE was actually the leading cause of everyone’s worry and lack of sleep.

But because the steward loved his life, he’d only say, "Your Grace, I believe it’s because Young Lord Luca has been quite busy these last few days since the major clean-up started."

The Duke froze. "Clean-up?"

Han nodded carefully.

Leander frowned. "Wait. What clean-up?"

"Ah, yes, Papa!" Luca said, suddenly perking up as though the word "busy" had been a compliment. "Well, you see, it’s been three days since we sort of defeated the giant parasitic anemone we found!"

Leander gawked in disbelief.

"Three... days?"

His voice trembled, the realization sinking in.

"THREE DAYS?!"

The Duke almost bounced from the bed in shock.

Steward Han winced, already reaching forward in case Duke Leander really flew off the bed.

"And what giant parasitic anemone?!" Leander demanded, flabbergasted.

Luca nodded brightly, as if reporting good news. "Yes! Papa, remember the big one with twelve tentacles? That one! The one where you were using your sword!"

He looked so proud saying it, completely unaware that his father’s soul had just left his body.

Han, who knew his master far too well, was already sighing quietly. Because clearly, the Duke—who had spent months dreaming about bonding missions and joint monster battles—had just realized he missed his chance.

He, the man known as the War God, had slept through three whole days of what must have been a legendary battle.

And sure enough, Luca’s next words were filled with panic.

"Oh no! Papa!"

Because the Duke looked like a man whose world had just ended.

It took an hour, several cups of tea, and three physicians to stop him from pacing in disbelief.

Cough, everything, cough!

Ahem.

Everyone exchanged looks that very much said, "Ahh, he doesn’t want them to worry."

"Then maybe you ought to look at this?" she asked coolly, playing the recording.

The projection flickered to life, showing Duke Leander in full heroic glory—before cutting to the part where he dramatically swung his sword and accidentally split the battlefield into three.

Then, as if his life was really being tested, the projection moved on to him blocking the fall of that colossal monster.

Duke Leander’s brain stuttered. Wasn’t this footage supposed to never see the light of day?!

What about camaraderie! How could Butler Gary show this to everyone?!

Somewhere in the corner, the butler sneezed and denied having eyes that could see or feel the Duke’s aura igniting.

But just before the Duke could storm off and throttle the poor butler, a miracle occurred.

And it was, of course, courtesy of the precious son, savior of the staff and possibly of mankind.

"Papa! You were amazing here!" Luca said sincerely, pointing at the still-playing recording. "So cool! I never imagined Colossus Guard could be used like that!"

The Duke froze mid-motion.

Oh.

Ooohhh.

Hmmm.

Cool?

His son just said he was cool?

He straightened immediately, chin raised slightly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Ah. Well. Yes. I suppose it was... quite the performance."

Everyone collectively witnessed the transformation.

The once-frazzled Duke suddenly looked ten years younger, sitting proudly as if he hadn’t just fainted under the sea.

Meanwhile, Luca continued praising him earnestly, completely oblivious to how inflated his father’s ego was getting.

"Papa, the strength! The size of that aura! And your timing—perfect! I don’t think anyone else could’ve done it better!"

Even Duchess Amelia had to look away.

Because her husband’s lips were curving so far upward, they could probably be tied together if she tugged hard enough.

But instead of doing that, she just sighed softly and crossed her arms. He did look good. Heroic, even.

Maybe she’d let him enjoy this moment.

For now.

Later, however, she would absolutely screech at him for being reckless.

Though maybe she’d reconsider since it would seem like just hearing about what happened in the last three days would be too much torture for her big puppy.