The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] Chapter 477: His Release

Ollie didn’t see him coming.

Which was intentional—because Kyle made sure of it.

He figured Ollie must still be inside taking the exam, and the last thing he wanted was to distract him or anyone else by striding in like a delinquent. So Kyle waited silently by the side corridor, out of sight but not out of range.

But from his vantage point, he could see Ollie clearly.

And what a sight it was.

Ollie looked impossibly serious. His posture was sharp, determined. His hair was an absolute disaster, like he’d stuck his head into a wind tunnel of regret, and yet his signature hair antenna stood tall, defiant, proud, as if ready to attack.

Kyle watched, breath held.

Even with dark circles and the look of soone two questions away from a breakdown, Ollie still looked radiant. Positively glowing.

Just how much spiritual water did he drink to look like a beacon?

And the adjutant felt his heart clench. He’s really working hard...and when he’s like this, he’s just irresistible.

It would really be important to keep him safe.

Tsk. But from whom? From himself? Thought the sa guy who was thankfully self-aware.

anwhile, the test taker in question, clinging to the last fraying edge of consciousness, could’ve submitted his exam twenty minutes ago—but he didn’t.

Because he was in too deep now to be complacent, and since he was already doing this, he was going to do it right.

He checked every single page. Every digital tab. He flipped through each section, squinted at the diagrams, and even rechecked if he correctly marked his answers like his life depended on it.

Because who knew? Maybe it did.

He couldn’t afford to miss a question. Or worse—an entire section this ti around. Not when he was up against soone who was clearly out for blood.

Maybe he was hallucinating a little. His vision swam. His fingers were numb. But even then, he persisted.

And then—the bell rang.

The exam was over.

He turned in his tablet with trembling hands.

But unlike the usual student relief at finishing a long exam, Ollie felt dread.

Sure, he answered a lot more confidently this ti. But what if it still wasn’t enough?

He couldn’t have gotten another 39%, right?

Right?

But just as he was preparing to step out of the exam hall, blinking at the light, he imdiately regretted being born.

Because waiting by the side was a very familiar figure, smug and poised and far too calm for soone who had been dramatically dragged back to land just a day ago.

Lyka Vela.

She stepped into his path smoothly, smiling like soone who knew exactly where to stab.

"Well, that’s done," she said sweetly. "Now we just wait for the results."

Ollie flinched.

"Don’t worry," Lyka added, voice sugary. "Even if you did your best, there’s no sha in losing. As long as you accept it with grace."

She tilted her head, too-perfect hair falling just so. "You will accept it, won’t you? I an, it’s not like you’d go running to Kyle even before the results are out. Not if you had any pride left."

She wouldn’t say the rest out loud, but this was her real play.

She was trying to buy ti, stalling in hopes that Ollie might hesitate. That maybe, just maybe, he’d be too embarrassed to seek Kyle out right away. Because who wouldn’t be?

If she could delay him just a little, plant even the tiniest seed of doubt, then she’d be able to wedge herself back into the space between them.

There was a mont of silence while the blonde tried processing what she said with what little remained of his sanity.

Ollie’s mouth opened even though he wasn’t sure what he wanted to say.

But instead of being able to continue, soone else answered for him.

"Oh? Why don’t you tell more about this bet?"

The voice was cool. Even.

And chilling.

Kyle’s voice rang across the examination hall just as he, Xavier, and Jax entered through the far side.

The sound of footsteps echoed like a slow, heavy drumbeat. Rhythmic. Unrelenting.

The kind that made students stop breathing and the assistants pause mid-check.

People turned. Voices quieted.

The atmosphere shifted as soon as Kyle entered, all sharp eyes and colder expression, walking like judgnt incarnate.

It wasn’t the first ti the students of the Royal Military Academy saw soone from House Nox walk into a room, because this was a common broadcast occurrence.

But this ti—this ti—it was personal.

And everyone knew what the bet was.

They just didn’t expect him to show up for it.

For a mont, they wondered who he ca for.

But the sa couldn’t be said for Kyle, who knew his very purpose for storming in.

Ollie.

And just like that, the rest of the world disappeared.

anwhile, the blonde who was right at the center of controversy had been staring at the ground, spiraling and too numb to respond.

But the mont he heard Kyle’s voice, he jolted.

His spine reacted before his brain did. His eyes widened. His chest thudded hard. His eyes prickled. His nose twitched. His lips wobbled.

And then, just like that, his tense shoulders sagged.

Tears slipped down before he could stop them.

And while there was a soft hum from the centralized heating system, everything felt remarkably quiet.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. But even if he wanted to, he felt like there was sothing stuck in his throat.

Because after several days, he finally saw him. Those eyes, that face. Kyle.

And in the sa breath, the adjutant who entered with cool nonchalance was suddenly hit like a brick when he saw the expression on Ollie’s face crumple.

He didn’t even get the chance to cross the floor.

Because Ollie launched.

Like a tiny cannonball of heartbreak, exhaustion, and raw emotion, he shot straight into Kyle’s chest.

Kyle barely caught him.

And Ollie sobbed.

Right there in front of everyone, with the desperation of soone who had held it together for far too long.

He cried like soone who needed this. Like soone trying to wash away all his recent hardships, pain, and grievances.

Because he had a lot, and today, he was going to let it all out.

Because Kyle would listen.

And Kyle would make it all right.

Ollie’s sobs weren’t just sobs. They were declarations of emotional damage.

Kyle gently adjusted his grip, holding the shorter guy tighter. His palm smoothed over

Ollie’s back with quiet repetition. One, two, three strokes—trying to calm the shaking lump in his arms.

He didn’t even try to speak yet. Because when Ollie was like this, it was better to let it all out.

And Ollie did. With full theatrical flair.

"I studied," he wailed into Kyle’s uniform. "Like, really studied. My eyeballs went dry. I drank sixteen cups of you-know-what and now I think I’ve developed a permanent tremor!"

Kyle nodded, resting his cheek against that chaos of blond hair.

"I didn’t even use the bathroom this morning because I thought if I peed, I’d forget everything I morized! Do you understand the sacrifice?! Do you?!"

A small snort escaped Kyle’s nose. He bit back a laugh.

"And then Lyka showed up with manicured nails, and I was already 89% unstable! And just earlier, she said I shouldn’t run to you! I wasn’t even going to! But then you ca—and it all exploded!"

Kyle nodded solemnly, trying to keep his sanity intact. "It did. But maybe don’t use those words in a single sentence next ti."

"Bah! I wasn’t supposed to cry! I was supposed to be cool! Mysterious! Like—like soone with inner strength and mystery! I even practiced!"

"You are mysterious," Kyle said, brushing a tear away with his thumb. "People are constantly wondering what dinsion you ca from."

The blonde sniffled, suddenly annoyed. "That’s not a complint."

Kyle kissed his temple. "It is to ."

People were still staring. The crowd that had witnessed the bet the other day now stared in shock as the cool (not) and composed (most definitely not) Ollie Mylor—who’d stood his ground like a champion—was now clinging to Kyle like a tragically determined barnacle.

Jaws dropped as Ollie wailed, "AND I TRIED, KYLE! I REALLY DID! I EVEN WORE THE SHIRT—THAT shirt! I know I shouldn’t have, but I was DESPERATE! But even that wasn’t enough!"

Kyle gently wiped a tear away, nodding like a man used to weathering emotional typhoons. "Maybe it would’ve worked with a newer one."

"MY BROTHER MADE FLASHCARDS, KYLE! Color-coded ones! I EVEN MADE A THE SONG FOR THE HISTORICAL TILINE! I had to sing it in the shower three tis—AND WORSE, NO ONE EVEN HEARD IT!"

"We can always produce an album with it," Kyle added helpfully.

"And that question about the Reconstruction Treaty?! Who even knows that?! I guessed ’C’ because it felt spiritually aligned, and now I think I was more in tune with ’A’!"

Kyle’s lips twitched. "Oh, but you guessed right."

Ollie hiccupped, eyes still trembling and fists still clutching at Kyle, "Really? Or are you just making fun of ?"

Kyle’s voice dipped. "Never. Since when did I make fun of you?"

Ollie’s eyes were now narrowed at the face he hadn’t seen in days. "I’m angry."

"I’d be surprised if you weren’t. You’ve had a really hard ti after all." Consoled the giant who really thought so.

So finally, finally, the sniffling blonde pulled back just enough to blink up at Kyle, cheeks wet, lips parted.

Kyle assud he was still thinking of things to unload, so while waiting, he leaned down and kissed his tears away—one cheek, then the other. Gentle. Unhurried.

His hand cradled the back of Ollie’s head.

And when nothing but small hiccups ca from the blushing blonde, Kyle asked, "Done?"

Ollie muttered, his ears suddenly flushing, "N-no. Or I’m not sure. Later! I’m sure I’ll rember later!"

Kyle smirked. "Then I’ll hold you till you rember. But for now, are you hungry?"

He was.

Starving even. He was craving for food, for attention, for Kyle.