The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] Chapter 607: The Promised Child

However, just as the people of the Empire were generally feeling hopeful and grateful in their hearts, back in the dungeon space, an unexpected event was unfolding.

Heuk. Heuk.

Ollie had been so taken aback that he ended up clinging to Luca for dear life.

It all started just monts ago when Ollie heard about his parents coming over. He had been excited because Luca and the elders had said they managed to make sothing called wine, and that they wanted to gift a few bottles to his parents as well.

Ollie was doubly excited since his brother told him it seed to be highly regarded by adults—people like Xavier’s parents, and now even his very own.

The elders, on the other hand, were practically puffing their chests out. They were so proud of their creations that they leaned in at every opportunity, waiting to hear praise for the different flavors they had brewed. They were the first to offer their bottles, and probably would have offered more if no one stopped them.

But Oliver Mylor, sworn brother of Luca Soren Kyros, seed to share one very distinct brotherly trait.

Utter obliviousness. And the strangest form of selective mory loss.

For when he saw his parents being spoken to by a certain blue-haired man of tall stature—one whose back was so broad it looked like an entire residence a mop might live on—Ollie’s first instinct was not caution.

It was to run over, yell "Mom! Pop!" at the top of his lungs, and promptly plant a kiss on the cheek of a certain boy standing beside him.

Just as always. Just as it had been ever since they had been officially together.

And it might have all been fine and good—if not for one crucial problem.

Ollie had never actually told his parents. Well, in reality, just his father.

Which ant that his poor father, Marquis Osmond Mylor, was now staring with eyes so wide they looked ready to fall out of his skull.

"!!!"

The Marquis had actually steeled himself before stepping into the dungeon space. He had prepared by imagining the most outrageous things, reminding himself that this was the place where miracles happened every second.

If he saw dragons roaring in the distance, he would not be surprised.

If he saw chas holding conversations or contamination purified in impossible ways, he would accept it.

Even the fact that his son had been recognized by the Academy as a young genius—when all the boy had wanted to do back then was escape his studies—was sothing he had managed to swallow.

So surely, surely, he was ready.

Or so he thought.

Because just what in Solaris was this?

How could sothing like this happen even when he thought he had already prepared for everything?!

Because right in front of Marquis Osmond Mylor was the sa genius blonde—his very own son—who had latched himself onto one of the heirs of the fad Nox family. Arms wrapped around him like tentacles.

Now, apparently, this was normal. After months of seeing it, this was normal.

What was not normal, however, was the sudden smooch delivered by the blonde... who was apparently his son.

"!!!"

"O-Oliver Astrea Mylor! Explain yourself!"

And just like that, in the middle of a peaceful clearing with the wind blowing gently, one father learned the truth of his son’s relationship.

"Pop! I-I swear, I was going to tell you! But every ti I’m about to do it, sothing cos up and I—" Ollie’s excuse stumbled out, only for him to jolt when Kyle placed a hand on his shoulder, then stepped forward as if to shield him.

"Marquis Mylor," Kyle said firmly, bowing slightly, "I would like to apologize for this. There is truly no excuse for the disrespect I’ve shown by—"

But he never finished.

Because the Marquis, to everyone’s surprise, covered his eyes with one hand and began crying. He then moved toward Kyle.

Kyle’s instincts scread at him to brace, to prepare for a strike or punishnt. His body was tense, rooted in place. If blows were to fall, he would accept them. After all, he had asked Ollie if he was ready to tell his parents, and Ollie had not been. But it was he who said to take his ti; therefore, Kyle thought this was very much his responsibility.

But instead of a punch, or even a slap... the Marquis stopped right in front of him and took hold of Kyle’s hands.

The adjutant blinked in surprise.

With tear-streaked cheeks, the hulking Marquis—father to four giants and one very small mop—spoke with a trembling voice. "Child. There is no need to apologize. In fact, I must apologize in advance."

"???"

"In the future, when tis are tough, please rember the good tis... that should help you survive the trying tis."

"EH???"

Everyone was dumbfounded. What tis? What survival? What cryptic blessing was this supposed to an?

"!!!"

And before anyone could recover, the Marquis bowed deeply, still clutching Kyle’s hands. His voice rang with sincerity. "I entrust our dearest Oliver to you. May you live a long and fruitful life together."

Then, without hesitation, he pulled the still-frozen Kyle into a hug, patted his back, and returned to his wife. He embraced Marquise Julienne and sobbed against her shoulder while she patted his giant back, smiling faintly at the scene as though this was the most natural outco.

Everyone else, however, was left completely stunned.

It was Ollie, of all people, who first managed to get his soul back into his body.

"POP!" he wailed hysterically. "Am I just the son you picked up from the trash?! Where is the scolding?! Where is the compatibility test for love?! Where is the stern lecture about treating well?!"

He nearly rolled on the ground, clutching his head dramatically. "Pop! Boyfriend! He’s my boyfriend! Why does it sound like you already want to marry off?! Do you not love anymore?! What if he treats badly?!"

Ollie continued to flail and whine, almost rolling on the grass like an abandoned mop, while everyone else blinked in silence, still trying to process what had just happened.

Finally, Kyle picked him up from the ground and tried to soothe him. But before he could, Marquis Osmond’s voice bood.

"Treat you badly?! Do we have to be blind to see that he treats you the best?! Would you look like a glowing, pampered dumpling if you weren’t being treated like royalty?! Who else gives you another set of legs to walk for you everywhere?! Who else sacrifices their desserts for you without hesitation?! And most importantly, who else, aside from us, would look at you and see stars instead of snot?"

"Isn’t it, Kyle?! Aside from your family and friends, who else would do this for you?!"

All eyes turned to Kyle.

The young man could only pat Ollie’s back as his little star wiggled like a salted worm in his arms, face red as a beet, ears blazing like strawberries.

"But Pop!" Ollie cried, squirming harder. "You didn’t even ask him! You just dumped on him! What if—"

His outburst stopped short when Kyle suddenly bowed. His eyes were clear, his voice steady. "I will keep your advice to heart, My Lord. Just as I will keep your son within it. While I lack in many ways, I will strive to cherish him as you have always cherished him. Please, allow the honor of cherishing him for as long as he permits."

"???"

"!!!"

"WHAT?!" Ollie’s head snapped toward Kyle, his face so red that even Luca began to worry.

"Y-you! You sound like we’re getting married!" Ollie accused, his voice cracking.

Kyle grinned at him, unflinching. "Of course. While it is not sothing to be rushed, why not? How else are you going to give your promised child?"

"!!!"

And that was how the eting for the upcoming auction was delayed—by the fainting of a son whose attempt to delay ended in catastrophe of his own making.