The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] novel Chapter 246

Chapter 246: Services

It started as a very awkward stand-off one might expect when a house cat-turned-hovercraft decided it wasn’t going anywhere.

The Earl, who was earlier high with joy, was now reeling from the sight of his enormous feline who had rooted himself around another human.

Unfortunately, it was hard to project authority when the pet insisted on flicking its tail in a very "I’m the boss now" manner.

The abandoned Earl sputtered. "Mr. Mittens, come to Papa!"

Mr. Mittens did not.

"..."

Instead, the lynx decided to curl around even more as it radiated the aura of supreme satisfaction.

Lord Nolan’s smile twitched. "I—I see. He’s simply...overwhelmed."

"Yes! That’s all, right?" He asked as his left eye followed his mouth.

"..."

The awkwardness deepened, only to be thankfully dispersed by an experienced duo.

"About this, Lord Nolan," Ollie flashed the shellshocked Earl with an understanding smile reminiscent of a seasoned opportunist.

"It’s not that Mr. Mittens prefers us over you, the owner."

The Earl perked up.

He probably does right now, but there was no need to mention that. And as a person with a hidden agenda, it was much better to ensure the stability of the client’s psyche.

"We just think," Ollie continued with a soothing smile, "that he has gotten used to the services provided by the combined efforts of our Guild and the House of Kyros."

"Services?" Lord Nolan asked suspiciously.

"Ah, yes!"

"You see, our Guild has recently encountered a few beasts that needed rehabilitation."

Steward Han, who was watching all this as a chaperone, coughed pointedly as he glanced at Mr. Mittens.

He wouldn’t assume that the lounging beast had gone on a bender while causing a disaster if he hadn’t known any better.

And yet here was the cat, all shiny and fat—correction, well-fed.

Rehab my ass. Thought the Steward, who still remembered his near-death experience.

For however he looked at it, it seemed like a stretch.

Not unless you count that entire arc about Tortie, the supreme tortoise, doing god’s work.

But what does he know, right?

"By sheer luck, we’ve gotten it down to a few standard things."

Yes.

The services weren’t much, really.

It just included cleaning them of contamination, giving them food they hadn’t tasted in their entire lives, and giving them an energy-filled place to stay.

Not to mention the extra service of having them disciplined and trained by the first inmate—Tortie, the guardian beast.

Their enforcer was rather strict and had taken to his role with terrifying dedication to leafy greens, flowers, and fruits. _{freewёbnoνel.com}

So, any signs of rebellion? Tentacle Slapped.

Any refusal to bathe? Slapped harder.

And the little tortoise did not care for celebrity status or size.

Mr. Mittens had learned this the hard way, and he wasn’t even the first to do so.

But the Earl didn’t need to know about the specifics and wouldn’t have assumed something like that had happened, considering the pet’s insistence on staying.

So, how were they even planning on going about this situation?

Surprisingly, by opening an official facility that could receive such guests.

They couldn’t do something so drastic—such as opening up the Dungeon-Linked Space to the public, but there was one place they could use.

And they prepared for this by adding a few amenities to the Pocket Dimension.