The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] novel Chapter 274

Chapter 274: Crumbling

While some people were quietly working toward a better world, another group was busy racking up karma—of the worst kind.

Somewhere far from the joy and fluff of milk cows and aquaponic farms, the blood-curdling sound of something ceramic shattering filled the air.

*Thwack!*

*Crash!*

Another ornate vase slammed into a poor vassal’s head. The man crumpled to the floor, dazed but conscious—unfortunately for him.

No one flinched—not anymore, especially after the fifth vase had flown. After all, they expected this outcome.

They’d told him. Warned him. Begged him, even.

But their Lord refused to listen.

And now, here they were, taking the brunt of his fury as he continued hurling antiques across the room like a toddler denied his favorite toy.

Baron Ray Firth was livid.

"You absolute pieces of shit!"

This time, it was a bottle that flew.

His face was red, veins pulsing at his temple, and his typically meticulously waxed mustache now drooped in his rabid frothing.

His aides cowered behind overturned furniture, trying to reduce their surface area lest they be mistaken for target practice.

Baron Firth kicked over a velvet stool, then snarled as he threw another priceless lamp against the far wall.

Everyone watching could tell.

Their boss looked every bit like a man teetering on the edge of ruin.

And they were pretty sure that it wasn’t just his nerves that were fraying. It was likely his accounts, ambitions, and definitely reputation.

Allegedly all because of one accursed guild.

"What am I even PAYING you mongrels for?! You failed THREE TIMES!"

He stalked across the room, jabbing a finger into one henchman’s chest.

"You! You moron! You couldn’t even get inside the city! What were you doing? Smelling the atmosphere?!" screeched the Baron, who slapped the man in anger.

"I—it was the security; they flagged the gene—"

"The security?! What security?! They let in an ORC PRINCESS! An actual Orc! And you, you slimy slug-licker, couldn’t even get a rented rodent past customs?!"

The man shrank into himself.

Another aide tried to step forward and offer a report.

"Open your mouth about procedures and say goodbye to those useless legs. I will personally feed them to the dogs while you watch!"

Silence.

Baron Ray downed the rest of his drink, then slammed the glass down so hard it cracked. He hissed through clenched teeth.

All of this was impossible.

It was all coming together, and his success was supposed to be right around the corner.

Until it all came crashing down.

His investments were bleeding. _{free𝑤ebnovel.com}

His debts were mounting.

And the root of all his woes? That blasted Dungeon Guardians Guild.

"I was this close!" Baron Firth howled, slamming his fist into the table. "This close! I had the market, the nobles, the prestige! The spa! The endorsements! All of it—mine!"

Indeed, for a time, Baron Ray Firth had ridden high on his supposed success. A commoner who had clawed his way up the ranks by strategically padding his tax returns just enough to buy himself the title of Baron.

All according to plan.

He was going to use his new status to rebrand his lavish pet spa as a nobleman’s sanctuary, the preferred place for high-class pet grooming, leisure, and pampering.

He diverted enterprise funds to finance this ambition—without telling anyone—confident that the business’s inflated profits would pay back the "loans" before the books were ever reviewed.

It should have worked.

In fact, it was working... until they opened.

At first, he scoffed at the rumors of a pet day care center appearing on Planet Nova.

Day care? For beasts?

It was laughable.

Until he saw the clips.

He remembered it vividly. The night he’d opened his terminal to mock the first viral video making rounds—only to pause.

Then stare.

That cat.

That cat.

That cat had drawn too much attention, and so Baron Firth had taken care of it.

Not only was the cat alive, but it looked better than ever.

And worse—it wasn’t even just a cat.

But then... he saw the client list.

Celebrities. Marquises. Dukes. And even an Imperial descendant.

"Fine," he had said with a wicked gleam in his eye. "If I can’t smear it, I’ll expose it."

That was when he got desperate.