The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] Chapter 991: The Oblivious Storm

Sure enough, "Shall we?" sounded like the gateway to hell.

One that started with a thwak as Luca extended his foot—heel first—in a sharp tango step, their arms angled to one side, their faces following the sa direction as they moved with startling aggression.

Ah, yes.

That.

What happened to the waltz that Cassian suggested?

Well, the idea was thrown away the mont his physical prowess had been called into question.

In short, the Federation’s next leader had just been called weak.

Even worse, he had been called as such by soone who clearly looked like he still had more growing to do.

Such delicate features. A pocket-sized height.

How dare this one insinuate that he was weak?

Of course, Cassian knew he might be playing into the golden-eyed nace’s hands, but a challenge like that wasn’t sothing he could possibly ignore. Not when it had been done in public—and not after soone else had already been presented as a comparison.

So he ended up telling Luca that he was perfectly fine with the initial choice.

"Mister Benefactor, are you sure? Maybe we should just pick sothing else?"

Luca asked worriedly.

And that, more than anything, ticked Cassian off.

To think soone would dare act like this with him.

But maybe what was worse was that he couldn’t even feel the usual trace of malice. No hidden edge. No carefully masked intent that he could latch onto and exploit.

Normally, he would’ve seen through it imdiately and used it to his advantage.

But this blockhead?

He just seed so... so oblivious.

Completely and utterly oblivious.

Just what was he supposed to do with soone like this when it felt like he was talking to an oddly placed wall?

Well, first, he needed to take control of this stupid dance.

Because at this rate, they weren’t going to get anywhere.

But just as Cassian was about to assert that control—

He was pulled firmly to the opposite side. His head practically whipped about as it happened.

And just like that, he was dragged into what could only be described as a whirlwind.

Cassian’s eyes widened in genuine surprise.

Because before he could even begin his greeting—

"Young Lo—"

He was abruptly sent out.

A sharp pull, a controlled release, and then a clean tuck outside turn that flung him into a spin before he could brace for it.

"What the actual—"

To his horror, he didn’t stop after one turn.

He kept spinning.

The montum carried him further than expected, and for a split second, Cassian realized that he had already abandoned his original plans the mont he understood one crucial thing.

He wasn’t dealing with soone ordinary.

"Oof!"

He was caught just as the spin should’ve destabilized him, but instead of relief, the transition into the next move snapped through his fra like a jolt.

It felt less like being guided and more like being struck.

Every movent was too sharp.

But instead of a question-and-answer, this was more like a one-sided assault.

Who even dances like this?

Cassian’s gaze lifted, locking onto Luca’s face just as the cadet looked at him with that sa expression.

Bright. Open. Smiling.

"Yes, Mister Benefactor?"

It was an honest-to-goodness smile.

For a brief mont, Cassian actually paused, as if his mind had tripped over itself trying to process the contrast between that expression and the way this dance was unfolding.

He opened his mouth to respond, ready to steer the exchange back into sothing he could control—

But the tempo shifted again.

Abruptly.

Violently.

And he was pulled into another sequence before he could even form a sentence.

His footing adjusted instinctively, his body forced to follow rather than to go with his plan to usurp the lead as the rhythm pushed forward without pause.

Just what the hell was happening?

They turned again, their steps cutting across the floor with precision that bordered on aggression. Each pivot forced his balance to recalibrate, each pull demanded imdiate response, and every twist brought them back into close proximity before sending them apart again just as quickly.

It wasn’t graceful in the way he was used to.

It was controlled, yes—but it carried a kind of intensity that made it feel more like a spar than a dance.

And yet, despite all that, they kept ending up facing each other, only to barely have any sort of contact or conversation as he kept on getting ridiculously spun away.

Again.

And again.

Cassian was certain that this had never been part of any formal routine he had learned. Well, of course, because this had been a special technique taught by the one and only Duchess Alia, who future-proofed her child for situations like this.

Worse still, the tempo refused to settle.

It surged.

Then dropped.

Then surged again.

And with each shift, he found himself listening instead of thinking, adjusting instead of planning, reacting instead of controlling.

Annoying.

But not impossible. At least, not for soone like him.

Cassian steadied his breathing and finally seized a mont when they ca face to face again, their steps aligning just enough for him to speak without imdiately being dragged into another rotation.

"I wonder why we’re all only hearing of you now."

It was a simple but loaded question, delivered evenly, and it carried the weight of suspicion.

Honestly, after racking his brain for a revamped plan of attack, that was what he ca up with.

Upon realizing that the persona they had been studying through the streams was even worse in person, he just had to adapt.

It was clear that this guy was too lively for his own good, and so there wouldn’t be a point in asking if he was happy staying in the Empire.

Moreover, with the way every gaze in the room seed to drift toward Luca, popularity wasn’t the issue.

But maybe the cadet hadn’t realized that for soone this extraordinary, there really was a case for why he’d only been popular recently.

More importantly, one should consider how long that would last, given all the people likely itching to have a piece of the pie.

This naive Kyros may not have realized it yet, given all the glitz and glamour, but eventually all this would likely be taken off his hands; it would just be a question of who would offer better terms.