The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] Chapter 439: Big Guns

Ollie was not okay.

Not even close.

If life had HP bars to show emotional damage, his would’ve been flashing red before instantly dropping to zero. A total KO. No revives left. Please insert another soul to continue.

The attack had been too fierce.

His system—body, mind, soul—was still glitching. And so, like a haunted ch on ergency protocol, he passed through dinner chanically. Fork to plate. Plate to mouth. Chew. Swallow. Stare into the void. Repeat.

Kyle only ntioned dinner since his declaration while consoling him.

Which was sohow worse than if he’d kept talking.

Because now every movent, every brush of Kyle’s sleeve, every tiny glance—even the shared airspace—felt charged. Like lightning was going to strike at any mont and fry what was left of Ollie’s sanity.

Then ca dessert.

The blonde almost passed out.

Because Kyle really gave him the ice cream.

His favorite.

It was sweet. Cold. Perfect.

And completely incompatible with his current body temperature.

Every bite he took made him tremble.

Not from his usual dessert bliss, but from panic.

The poor dessert couldn’t even hold up against the heat of his face. It lted faster than his thoughts. Was this really happening? Was this a dream? A fever? A long-con prank?

No. It was real.

And the ice cream was witnessing his downfall.

He tried to talk, but it was like his voice box had been fried during emotional combat.

So instead, Ollie did the only thing he could.

He let Kyle carry him.

Yes. Carry him.

Because his legs were mush. Boneless, wobbly, traitorous mush. It would’ve been impossible to get dinner if he hadn’t done this for him.

This ti, he wasn’t even exaggerating—walking felt like piloting a cha with two broken joints and a faulty stabilizer. And that’s saying a lot because he couldn’t even pilot!

And Kyle, being Kyle, didn’t say a word. He just carried him around like it was normal.

It was not.

It was definitely not.

Ollie had no idea how many tis his brain scread THIS IS NOT NORMAL in the span of twenty minutes.

But why does it seem like everyone thinks it’s normal, too?

Do they not know that this man has t-thoughts about him?! He internally panicked as he realized that people would always assu it was he whom Kyle was carrying, even when his body was covered with a giant coat.

Maybe it was soone else; did they not consider that?

They didn’t. Instead, they greeted Kyle and the bundle he was carrying as Ollie. As him. And every ti they did it, his heart would clench a little.

Ahhhhh!Maybe he was really ill!

But then ca the worst realization of all.

School.

Was he even going to make it to school tomorrow?

No, wait. Forget school. There was a more urgent problem.

How was he supposed to sleep tonight?!

Because if Kyle’s words were still playing on a loop in his head at dinner...

Then, was he expected to endure it until later?

One hand clutched the edge of his blanket. The other clutched his terminal.

If Kyle even texted goodnight, he was done for.

Absolutely done for.

But he didn’t have to send a ssage because the giant’s mouth was apparently fully capable of functioning, unlike his.

By the ti curfew approached, he still hadn’t recovered. Sure, he was glowing from coming back from the space. He was fed. He didn’t have to walk, but his mind had been out there racing like crazy with the most jumbled thoughts.

But because Kyle was Kyle, he didn’t really leave imdiately.

Instead, the busy man made sure that he was tucked in.

Yes. Tucked in. Just like their usual routine, which now sohow felt very alien to his brain, despite his body cooperating as if it were muscle mory.

Blanket neatly pulled to his chin. Pajamas already changed. Fuzzy slippers placed beside the bed. That ridiculous but beloved star hairband was already perched on his head. His favorite pillow fluffed and placed right beneath him, like Kyle had morized the exact pillow arrangent that got him to sleep fastest.

But then...

Ollie noticed it.

A plain shirt.

Not his.

It was folded beside the pillow like it belonged there.

"...What’s this?" asked the glowing star as he squinted suspiciously.

Kyle glanced at it. "That? Just sothing I left behind. In case you can’t sleep."

"It’s not mine..." Ollie said slowly.

"I know," Kyle replied, too calm. "It’s mine. But no need to use it if you don’t want to."

Ollie blinked at the shirt. It was unassuming, but the blonde felt his toes heating up.

He was still staring at it when Kyle turned to leave.

But right at the door, Kyle paused. Looked over his shoulder.

Then, smoothly, like it was just a normal thing to say before exiting a room—

He smiled.

"Good night," he said, voice warm, amused. "Dream of ."

Then he closed the door.

CLICK.

Ollie didn’t even scream.

He just turned red.

So red.

Atomic strawberry red.

H-how could he be so shaless?!

Since when did such things co out of his mouth?!

He wasn’t sure. But now he’d gotten himself thinking about mouths.

And none of it was helping get him to sleep.

He needed to sleep. He was a diligent student who attended school, worked hard, and didn’t receive any confessions, unlike his siblings. (not)

But not anymore! He’d been exposed now!

Nnngh!

He stared up at the ceiling like it held the answers to the universe. It didn’t.

Then he closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep. "Sleep now," he told his brain. "We can panic again tomorrow."

He even tried a breathing technique he saw in a sleep article once. Inhale for four, hold for seven, exhale for eight—

Nothing.

Then he rolled over.

Burrowed into his pillow.

Still nothing.

"Don’t think about it," he whispered. "Forget it. It’s not a big deal. He always says goodnight. He just added, ’dream of .’ Just a few words said together!!"

Unfortunately, his brain was a traitor.

Because every ti he shut his eyes...the feedback loop kept on going. One that he couldn’t get to function for exams, but was sohow working overti right when he had to go to bed.

"Ughhhh—!" Ollie groaned, flopping over dramatically.

So he tried faking it.

Closed his eyes again, mouth slightly parted, and started fake snoring.

Maybe if he convinced himself he was asleep, the rest of his body would follow.

"Snrrrrrk," he said. "Snrhhk..."

But even his fake snores started sounding like Kyle’s na if you tilted your head sideways and squinted hard enough.

He slamd his face into the pillow.

"I just want to sleep!" he whispered to the universe. "Is that so hard?!"

His legs kicked off the blanket. Then pulled it back. Then kicked it off again.

He turned onto his side. Then his back. Then his other side.

Nothing helped.

Unfortunately, what he’d usually do at tis like this was to call Kyle and tell him about his day before falling asleep.

But how was he supposed to do that today?

What about the coming days?!

How would he be able to face him tomorrow?

It all sounded so impossible for Ollie, who was left staring at the ceiling, not even noticing that his true roommate hadn’t co back.

But by the third turn, the stressed-out mop decided to call in the big guns.

He was going to call his mom.