The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL]-Chapter 319: Plan B

To be completely fair, D-29 did not expect this kind of reaction. And if anything, Luca didn’t think he’d react like that, either.

He’d always been alone, and ended up preferring it when he realized how much worse it was to be around people.

But in this life—

It was different.

In this life, he had people who made him laugh, who made him feel warm, who made him feel like he mattered.

And one of those would be Xavier.

With him, Luca didn’t just feel happy. He felt safe, wanted, and seen.

And if only he understood what that thundering in his heart really meant, he might’ve realized why this fear was so deeply rooted.

But despite not knowing, the dread that fell upon him was somehow worse than being told that he’d be put inside a tank for an indefinite amount of time.

There was nothing to lose back then, no attachments, no hope. It was only a life that no one even wanted.

But to be told that there was a likely possibility of Xavier being taken away?

Luca’s knees trembled. And not in the same way that the Prince got him trembling from his touch.

This was fear.

And it was a message received by everyone who witnessed it.

Xavier felt how distraught Luca was and turned the little guide’s face toward him.

"Luca..." he said, voice low but steady, "stay with me, please," requested the prince, who looked sickly himself.

"Hup—!" hiccuped Luca, who saw his pale face and reacted even worse, eyes even more watery than earlier.

Okay, well, that clearly didn’t work for this guy, whose mind was probably thinking about the worst, so Xavier tried another tactic.

Alright. Plan B, then.

"Luca," Xavier tried again, this time with a change of topic, "I need a bit of help figuring something out, and I’d like to hear your thoughts about it." He started.

"Huh?"

"How much would it cost to manufacture the bacteria strain we need for the aquaponic farm?"

Luca blinked, caught off guard. "Wh—what?"

"The strain we discussed before. For the biofilter. What’s the cost?"

Luca sniffled, brain flipping tracks with the awkward grace of a startled animal. "Uh... around 22,000 Star Coins per batch..."

Xavier nodded.

"And how much would the equivalent be if you bought it from the Trove?"

"10,000 CP per unit..."

Xavier leaned in, voice softer. "Are you happy with that Star Coin conversion rate?"

There was a pause.

Luca blinked again.

And for the first time in the last minute, he thought.

"... No," he mumbled. "Maybe it could still be cheaper?"

Xavier hummed. "Right, I think so too."

"But since your father said the manufacturing costs could still go down, then it should be cheaper, no?"

And just like that, he felt Luca’s body slowly begin to relax against her.

Duchess Amelia watched the scene before him with a lot of confusion and a wave of sudden understanding.

She, for one, did not know how to comfort her son, who suddenly looked like he was about to burst.

Meanwhile, this ghostly guy knew her son well enough to be able to do such a thing.

It was as embarrassing as it was eye-opening. And really, she didn’t plan on taking him away like that.

At best, maybe make him disappear quietly into the night if he were proven to be a major threat to her son.

But like this, it would be impossible to make him disappear unless she wanted to hate herself more than she already does.

So the duchess could only stare at the giant before her as they wordlessly agreed on a very temporary ceasefire.

She meant it when she said she was going to listen. But forgive her for knowing full well that she was going to judge.

__

The duchess was thinking like this when they found themselves back inside the tunnel they had exited from.

This time, it was just the three of them, yet somehow it felt even more awkward than when everyone was around.

Luca walked stiffly beside Xavier, still holding his sleeve. Xavier, for his part, looked steadier now that he wasn’t under scrutiny.

And the duchess? She was at the front of the trio, back straight, steps measured.

But she was the most awkward of them all.

She could feel it in her shoulders. The tension that hadn’t quite left her spine. The weight of her own actions pressed like a stone.

She’d walked out with the subtlety of a siege engine.

So, how could she be expected to be treated as anything but one?

It was her fault. So the duchess had to apologize.

It was the right thing to do if she wanted to make her son feel more comfortable in her presence.

The duchess stopped. And the two had to pause behind her.

And then, still not turning around, she said it.

"...I owe you both an apology."

Luca blinked.

Xavier’s brows rose.

The duchess inhaled deeply, then turned to face them. Her expression was tight, but sincere.

"I acted with hostility before understanding the situation. That’s on me," she said, voice still controlled. "And while I’d like to blame my instincts as a mother and a soldier, neither excuses what I nearly did."

There was a beat of silence.

And Luca could only stare wide-eyed at the woman before him.

The duchess gave him a small, tired smile.

"I’m especially sorry, my son." She meant it.

"!"

Luca, who had been so ready to explain himself, froze.

All his mental rehearsals—gone. All his worries—collapsing into something too complicated to unpack.

"I—I-um..." he stammered, hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. "I wanted to say sorry, too. For earlier. I don’t know why I reacted like that, or what came over me, I just—"

"It’s alright," she said softly. "If you can’t decipher your feelings yet, that’s fine."

She could tell. Luca was just as confused, but she, for one, knew how difficult it was to articulate feelings of all things, so she let it be.

Luca’s lips trembled. "Really?"

She nodded. "But if possible... I’d like to understand. What’s happening? And since when has it been happening?"

Xavier’s arm subtly tightened around Luca’s shoulders. freeωebnovēl.c૦m

The duchess saw it.

She didn’t comment.

Instead, she just braced herself.

Because the moment Luca nodded—clearly about to begin—the duchess suddenly had the distinct, sinking feeling that she should’ve packed at least her smallest knife.

This wasn’t going to be a story. It was probably the start of someone’s epitaph.