The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] novel Chapter 277

Chapter 277: Confessional

That was the safe zone.

Well, safe-ish.

The confessional was never meant for religious atonement in House Mylor but was built after one of their first ancestors mistakenly used it to confess all his sins to his family.

They were minor infractions, but to the five-year-old who only belatedly learned that all his secrets had been mistakenly heard after he entered the wrong side of the booth, it must have been tragic.

Obviously, that must have been a horrible time for the ancestor in question, but since then, the family has decided to pursue the concept.

As generations passed, it evolved into a place to air secrets so volatile that even the walls had to be reinforced.

It was a legacy room of ancestral secrets and bad ideas, and Ollie?

He’s always had a whole wheelbarrow of both.

"Pop! I’m home now! Shouldn’t that count for something?!" he shrieked as he slid across a rug and practically elbowed open the hidden panel that led to the reinforced booth.

But behind him, the thunder still raged.

"OHOHOHO! Count for something?! Now you know how to count?!" Barked the thundering final boss.

"Did you count how many days it has been since you’ve made contact?!"

"Or would you like counting how many hairs I’ve lost trying to learn if your ass had started being involved in crime—"

"Or worse! MULTI-LEVEL MARKETING?!"

"And your mother! Can you count how much weight she has lost because of you?!" He continued screeching at the blonde mop who dove into the confessional.

Marquis Osmond was not sure if he wanted to ball up his son before squeezing him or outright hugging the idiot who was, against all odds, still luckily alive.

He, of all people, knew what it was like to deal with something so risky that death could come knocking at any time now.

But then to hear that his son Ollie, out of all of them, was the one to land into this hot water?

Preposterous.

Worse still, he didn’t learn it from a letter or a report but from watching his son’s face pop up everywhere across Star Net. And even if he could initially try ignoring it, his son’s involvement in this couldn’t be denied.

His son, who barely wanted to attend class, not only passed the mercenary exams as a freshman but also joined a totally new guild, which they apparently started with only five members—all freshmen.

Now, all of this apparently happened before the auction, but none of them even knew.

Technically, he had a feeling that something was up when his son sauntered in with all of those people, goods, and money.

And had he not seen what they themselves auctioned, he would’ve thought that his son sold himself to some devil.

Though why someone would buy that boy’s soul would be beyond him, but with Ollie’s personality of being too giving, he might have even offered it for free.

This was really ironic, considering his apparent ability to make money. However, maybe the issue is not with making it but with keeping it.

Sigh.

And now they were here, and his son was using the confessional to buy time to save himself from the ass-whooping of the century.

Unless he had something worth all the trouble of giving his entire family anxiety, save for Owen, who enjoyed seeing his brother’s face everywhere.

Unfortunately, or fortunately for the son, he did.

He had one. And it was one so big that the father would much later on stop his son from continuing.

Ollie gulped after catching his breath.

He had succeeded in getting inside; now, all he had to do was to deliver something: a compelling argument.