The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] Chapter 934: Show of Wealth

Sure enough, it probably would’ve been better if he’d stayed silent, because even to his own ears, his explanation was starting to sound ridiculous.

"It’s not like we preferred that thod, you know?"

He exhaled softly before continuing.

"But the problem with presenting a positive image was anticipation."

Then again, they should’ve known better.

Because the problem with good-looking people presenting any image at all was still anticipation.

"..."

"..."

__

Honestly, Elior and Rahil had been confused the first ti they saw Luca in person.

They’d seen the photographs before. Lady Agnes holding a toddler with bright eyes and an even brighter smile. The child in those pictures looked lively. He looked like he loved life.

But the teen before them looked even worse than Elior, who was already a shell of who he once was.

Though to be fair, Luca, or what looked like Luca Kyros, hadn’t looked disheveled.

If anything, he was impeccably cared for. His clothes were neat. His hair was brushed. His skin was clean. The servants clearly tended to him with care.

But that sohow made it stranger.

It felt like looking at a life-sized doll.

A fragile, carefully maintained doll.

The sa doll Elior had been asked to represent with a face-altering mask.

Rahil had questioned him privately afterward.

What were they supposed to do now?

Should they stay?

Should they look for another way to prolong Elior’s life?

Should they run again?

Back then, Elior hadn’t been in the best headspace. He’d been exhausted, bitter, and quietly preparing himself for the inevitable.

And if there truly wasn’t much they could do anyway, then why not remain sowhere that was perfect for hiding until his ti ran out?

Because really, who would ever suspect they’d hide in House Kyros?

Of all places.

If anything, within those walls, he felt oddly protected. For the first ti in years, he didn’t feel the need to sleep with one eye open.

The people at the manor were simply different.

They just hadn’t expected that they’d end up worrying about the most unusual things instead.

Like an unofficial ranking for the most anticipated heirs of the next generation.

"The first major issue ca from that benchmarking people just couldn’t stop doing," Elior said, rubbing his face as he recalled the countless discussions they’d had about strategy. They’d actually had to sit down and map out how to handle the inevitable comparisons between aristocratic heirs.

"During the earlier years, when the privacy of younger children was strictly protected, it hadn’t been much of a problem. Everyone kept their heirs hidden. No one wanted to lose them before they could protect themselves."

As an elven prince, Elior understood that all too well.

He was living proof of why such caution existed.

But as soone who’d only ever been compared to those of equal rank, he hadn’t faced what Luca did, as there were no appropriate individuals to compare him to, save for his own twin.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case for the heirs of the four great dukedoms.

With every new article that surfaced about Dominic.

Every glowing piece about the Azren twins.

Every comndation regarding the older Ian Zorath.

Luca’s na inevitably surfaced beside theirs.

And unlike Elior, Luca couldn’t simply remain outside the system.

He was the only child of two prominent military figures.

Eventually, he’d be expected to attend military institutions like the other heirs, even without the conscription.

But Luca couldn’t attend in that condition.

Truthfully, even Elior, the stand-in, wouldn’t have survived the junior academy in his state.

In short, they needed to figure out a way to lower everyone’s expectations of Luca so that, instead of anticipating his appearance like the other heirs, people would rather not see him anywhere.

Ideally, the goal was for people to agree with keeping him hoschooled forever.

And so, the sar campaign was born.

It was a campaign Duke Leander had absolutely dreaded.

Elior was certain the man had nearly driven himself sick just imagining his innocent child’s reputation being dragged through the mud like that.

Ever since the proposal had been brought up, wailing had frequently echoed from one deeply distressed father.

It wasn’t a dramatic exaggeration.

There had been actual wailing.

Because while the sar campaign was ant for Luca’s safety, no parent would ever want to willingly tarnish their child’s image.

"Here’s the thing," Elior said slowly, feeling every pair of eyes still trained on him. "It had to be done in a way that wasn’t illegal. He couldn’t possibly go to jail, can he?"

Silence.

"So I proposed a show of wealth," he continued carefully, because a certain soone—ahem, Rahil—had proposed the thing they really had a problem with.

That wasn’t Elior’s brainchild. His idea was this, sothing that he thought was tolerable.

"Basically, unnecessary spending. Surprisingly, that was easily approved by the Duke."

He delivered it smoothly.

Confidently.

Reasonably.

But much to Elior’s shock, the golden-eyed heir in front of him gasped like soone had stabbed him.

"!!!"

Everyone turned.

In perfect unison.

Prince Elior froze.

What did he say?

What did he do?

Frivolous spending had been their cleanest solution. No cris. No victims. No damning records that could send anyone to prison. So what exactly was wrong?

One wolfish husband knew the answer imdiately.

Everything.

It would have been easier for Luca to hear that soone had committed an actual cri in his na.

At least cris had minimal fees attached to them.

Spending, however.

Spending frivolously.

That was a tragedy.

Xavier moved at once, rubbing his wife’s back over and over as the heir cycled through visible stages of emotional collapse.

Denial.

Shock.

Grief.

Existential crisis.

Luca Soren Kyros, certified penny-pincher, who would have polished every coin in existence if they still circulated physically, looked like he was about to depart this world.

"Why... would you..." Luca’s voice trembled faintly.

Prince Elior panicked.

anwhile, off to the side, a redhead calmly raised his hand.

"What did you do with everything you bought?" Jax asked.

The Imperial Crown Prince stared at him in disbelief.

Why was everyone so intent on sending his wife to the afterlife today?

Elior, now operating on pure survival instinct as he recalled what happened before, screeched, "They were anonymously donated to orphanages!"

Luca blinked.

Tears still clung to his lashes.

His cheeks were round with distress.

He looked pitiful.

He looked adorable.

He stopped hyperventilating.

"...Donated?" he echoed weakly.

"Yes!" Elior insisted, nodding too hard. "We bought in bulk, laid low for a period, then quietly redirected the items to different organizations in need!"

That wasn’t even a lie.

For so reason, after those anonymous deliveries, the recipients kept sending thank-you cards. Drawings. Letters. So even had little winks drawn in the corners.

Unbeknownst to Luca, ever since his return from Tesseris, the warm greetings he received from distant citizens who had no idea about his true condition had partly stemd from that.

People knew.

They weren’t fools.

Luxury items they once saw on the virtual tabloids, even when donated discreetly, couldn’t possibly be subtle to their receivers.

Not even when mixed in with other goods.

But if their Young Lord wanted to pretend he was a spoiled brat instead of the generous lord he was, then who were they to expose him?

Outside the sphere of House Kyros, critics rolled their eyes at the alleged extravagance.

Inside it, people quietly held him in higher regard.

"Oh," Luca hiccuped softly.

Donation.

Children.

That was... fine.

Jax, apparently fielding bombs like a seasoned professional, continued carefully, "Were there no freebies?"

Elior blinked.

Freebies?

Rahil, however, seed to understand imdiately.

"There were!" he declared quickly. "Premium pillows!"

"...Really?" Luca’s voice was small.

"Yes, really!" Rahil nodded firmly. "Two pillows and a change of pillowcases!"

The room went quiet.

Luca sniffed.

"...Premium?"

"Yes. Very soft."

"...Two?"

"Two," Rahil confird solemnly.

The elven aide took a very deep breath and wanted to tell his master that, see, the idea about philandering was apparently better than spending because they almost sent the soul of the Young Lord elsewhere with Elior’s tactic!

But maybe Rahil shouldn’t have settled on that conclusion too soon, because since when was it easier to deal with troubles of the heart?