The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] novel Chapter 224

Chapter 224: Pressure

It could have turned out for the worst. But a calm voice finally cut through the chaos before Head Maid Gloria could fully commit to her murderous intent.

"Gloria."

"That won’t be necessary." said the missing Butler, who finally decided to grace them with his presence.

His arrival was timely, and his voice practically attracted the attention of the Head Maid, who was looking for an outlet.

However, to anyone who’d belatedly notice, his arrival was timely, as though he had been expecting this precise reaction.

Which he really was, for the reaction was warranted.

Gloria, who was normally prim and kept, tilted her head in a fashion that was slightly (definitely) eerie. "And what, pray tell, are we supposed to serve, Butler?!"

"Outside of these halls, we’ve got the Young Lord, his friends, and all those vassals?! Should we just serve hope on these damned plates?!"

The Head Maid’s voice cracked as she gestured wildly towards the elegantly set table.

Actually, yes. Thought the Butler, who was pretty sure they were about to serve hope in these gilded plates.

But it was no use riling her up even more as, technically, she was not in the wrong.

Butler Gary didn’t even blink. "The meal will be served when it is time."

"Time?! TIME?!" Gloria was on the verge of combusting. _{fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com}

"We are one crisis away from serving nutrient solutions to the future ruler of the Duchy! I’ve seen more comforting last meals on a prisoner’s tray!"

"That’s enough, Head Maid Gloria."

Butler Gary’s voice was firm, though it carried no trace of reprimand.

He understood her concerns—after all, this was no ordinary welcome.

It was the long-awaited return of the Young Lord. A homecoming steeped in years of separation, expectation, and even whispered regret.

But there was something else.

Something that Gary, unlike the frantic maid, understood.

"We are not serving food just yet for a reason."

"And what reason could possibly justify an empty dining hall?"

He gave her a pointed look. "Because the moment the food is served, it will become a problem."

Gloria blinked, utterly confused.

"A...problem?"

"Exactly." Gary adjusted his pristine white gloves as though preparing for war.

"The scent alone will be enough to attract attention. It won’t stay within these walls, no matter how reinforced the manor’s dome is."

"But..."

"And if the entire planet gets a whiff of what’s about to be served?" Gary’s lips curled into a wry smile as if preparing for an impending blood bath.

"Nutrient solution would be the last of your worries, as you might just have to bring out your trusty hammer."

This stunned the Head Maid.

"You mean...?"

"Yes," Confirmed the Butler, who looked extremely serious.

"What we’ll serve is something else entirely, and for this, really, we’ll need a different kind of preparation. You understand, right?"

And she did.

It was rhetorical.

Gloria’s face drained of color as she recalled the absurd and utterly glorious delights they had tasted before.

From the tales of food so fragrant, they could calm a storm to the description of fried chicken that could make a grown warrior weep—the stories had spread like wildfire.

And that was only for the poor souls who didn’t get to taste the miracle.

But to them, especially those who were willing to fight tooth and nail, the tales were a reality.

So if they were dealing with something like that again...

"Oh, stars," Gloria whispered.

"Exactly." Butler Gary’s eyes gleamed with quiet satisfaction.

"So, I suggest you save your energy, Head Maid Gloria. After all—" He stepped forward, adjusting the silver utensils with a precision only a seasoned butler could possess.

"We may need a lockdown before the feast is even served."

But back at the grand entrance hall, a different atmosphere was created.