The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] Chapter 955: Twenty Minutes

Unlike the master chanics, who were allowed to remain and participate in the competition, the other delegates were given exactly twenty minutes to walk through the booth and receive introductions to facilities they wouldn’t even be allowed to use.

Frankly, the entire tour felt like they were flying from one place to another.

It was nothing like the other booths they had visited during the Expo for the exact sa twenty minutes.

In most places, every minute dragged endlessly as presenters droned on about technological breakthroughs and achievents that did very little to impress the Federation, which had its own share of mad inventors and questionable geniuses.

How could work by those guilds even impress them enough?

But DG’s booth was the complete opposite.

The delegates found themselves desperately wishing each second would stretch longer, even as they were forced to follow a strict route that allowed them to see as much as possible without actually interacting with anything.

Then again, Rhys was already surprised they had even been allowed inside at all.

If the Federation possessed a facility like this, there was absolutely no chance that outside delegates would ever be granted access.

Not that they even had delegates coming over when no one would really be stupid enough to do such a thing.

But in the case of the surprisingly carefree Empire, even they were allowed to see sothing as crazy as this.

Toward the end of the tour, the group was guided toward the café.

According to their hosts, who were clearly overwheld by the sa sights, they had been told it was the perfect stop for visitors short on ti.

Naturally, several entitled cadets within the Federation’s delegation wanted to raise hell.

They had waited for this mont for so long, only to discover that they couldn’t actually enjoy most of the attractions the booth offered.

They were given a brief look at the farm, but no fruit or vegetable picking happened.

They saw the packed arcade, but weren’t allowed enough ti to try even a single ga.

Don’t even ntion the restaurant or the minimart, since they also wouldn’t get to experience them.

The list of missed opportunities was astronomical.

And now they were only being sent to the café. The younger heirs couldn’t help but click their tongues.

But at the end of the day, they were still representatives of the Federation.

So what exactly were they complaining about?

Even so, Rhys found himself experiencing an unexpected mont of inner turmoil the instant he was served a cup of sothing called hot chocolate and that very flaky pastry.

Normally, the adjutant would have been attentive enough to hear the explanation of what the pastry was called.

But the mont he took a bite, it was as if his mind completely blacked out.

For several seconds, he couldn’t even hear the staff mber finishing their description.

Around him, similar reactions quietly spread throughout the café.

An Aerun representative lifted the cup of hot chocolate to her lips and froze mid-sip, blinking slowly as though trying to process the sensation.

One of the dwarves stared at the pastry in his hand with narrowed eyes, turning it over suspiciously before taking another bite.

An Orc delegate didn’t even bother hiding his reaction and was only thankful because whatever that was, they could probably ask their King and Princess for more.

"...What is this?"

On a different table, a Siren carefully broke apart the flaky layers of the pastry, watching them crumble with delicate curiosity before tasting it and going utterly still.

But maybe the true test was how even the Elves who had been agitated since their Prince returned with a Princess looked like they had montarily forgotten their worries.

Then again, how would that be surprising when even Rhys himself couldn’t function quite normally?

Which was honestly concerning.

He was usually extrely diligent and composed, as only soone like that would be able to survive his line of work.

But right now, all he could think about was the smooth warmth of the dark liquid and the taste of that impossibly delicate pastry dissolving in his mouth.

Did they really serve sothing like this to everyone?

Apparently, they did.

From the Aeruns to the Orcs, from the Dwarves to the Sirens, and even the Humans representing both the Federation and the Empire, every delegate present was experiencing what could only be described as the taste of an extraordinary spiritual relic.

Of course, no one openly admitted that.

Who would want to reveal that such goods weren’t common within their own territories?

Even so, Rhys noticed sothing.

His boss, Cassian Veyra, had straightened slightly after his first bite before deliberately returning to his usual relaxed posture.

But as if the universe had decided to add even more fuel to the fire, the delegates suddenly caught a few monts of the polishing competition playing on one of the café screens.

And safe to say, several utensils imdiately clattered onto the ground.

Because just how was that even possible?

__

The competition had happened earlier in the day, and since Cassian had seen the faces of everyone else as more and more people realized the extent of the situation at hand, he couldn’t help but feel even more excited about all the developnts.

See, in this kind of political climate, only the careless and the powerless wouldn’t concern themselves with whatever had just taken place.

But to everyone else who had so sort of stake anywhere, regardless of affiliation, that was sothing to watch out for.

It wasn’t just the existence of a singular genius mind.

It was the idea that it was replicable.

With all those people being able to do the sa exact thing, what more proof would anyone need?

Those who could access the knowledge would be able to progress, while those who couldn’t would likely fall behind the tis.

And that alone was enough to shake entire power structures.

It was truly an exciting mont, one that he very much wanted to capitalize on.

If anything, as he looked out at the view of the ISEC from his room, Cassian found himself wondering just how busy the true mastermind behind all this must be.

Soone capable of instigating sothing that could excite Cassian Veyra probably had a million things to do.

How interesting.

The Federation heir smirked as thoughts of the inevitable competition crossed his mind.

But he wasn’t completely wrong.

The original mastermind was indeed very busy.

It was just that he was busy with sothing that wasn’t entirely conventional.