The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] novel Chapter 278

Chapter 278: Understanding

The small tin can that was slid through the slot of the confessional was received with skepticism.

For one, it was not beyond his children to put in random items that were not for the faint of heart, and that included Ollie, who was known for putting in micro grenades for fun.

He frowned, lifted the lid—

*Click.*

And immediately snapped it shut right back up.

The Marquis was stunned. But more importantly, the father in him trembled ever so slightly.

He did assume a few things, like a bribe of precious gems or maybe a rare material... but no.

It was nothing like that. In fact, he wasn’t even sure how to describe it.

Yet, despite not knowing exactly what it was, he could sure as hell tell what it could be classified as.

An honest-to-goodness relic.

And one that his son likely just carried the same way he delivered those auction goods to him.

"Ollie!" he boomed once again, and Ollie, by sheer conditioned reflex, responded, "Pop! I swear, I didn’t steal it!"

It was not because he had such hands but because he had the knack for encountering and collecting the oddest items and people who wouldn’t normally be found easily.

If only his father knew, Marquis Osmond would learn that all this took shape precisely because of this odd knack.

But then he realized that, oh, maybe there was another concern that should really be highlighted: "If it makes you feel better, Pop, I’m sure it’s edible. I tested it out myself!"

The mop was proud; after all, he managed to only consume one cookie from this particular can.

All in the name of ensuring quality.

However, the father, who would’ve normally reacted against this, was too fixated on the snacks to remember what they could be for.

He narrowed his eyes to open the tin again—just to double-check the goods—before finally asking, and he did so despite the dizzying scent that was likely clouding his judgment.

"What kind of atrocity did you commit that made you think that something like this would be an appropriate bribe?" Asked the Marquis, who was surviving on sheer willpower.

Nothing yet. After all, he was just about to go there, but only after explaining without really having to do so.

Instead of receiving an answer, the Marquis heard movement from the other side.

Then came another item.

This time, it was a bottle, one whose contents he should be able to identify despite not getting the chance to taste them—a bottle of lemonade.

It looked refreshing, and he just knew that opening it would likely cause the confessional doors to be sealed for a long while.

The Marquis stared. But as if a certain prodigal son thought that his father needed a bit more shock in his life, he decided to send another item over.

A single apple.

Red, glossy, and literally shimmered like a jewel in the eyes of the Marquis.

It was practically the humblest of all the three offerings but was the one that had the most impact.

Ollie had chosen to send over the basics—not the garlic butter or celebratory strawberry milk, nor did he send over the popular pancakes.

Because his goal was to send a message.

This wasn’t a bribe. This was trust.

The father stilled.

He had received the message.

Ollie knew his father. While he was "playful" with everyone, it would’ve been impossible for him to rise and stay as a top industry player by being dense.

No—Trading Mogul Marquis Osmond had survived this long because he listened, he saw, and he connected.

And right now?

Everything was lining up.

This prodigal son wasn’t trying to stall his punishment but was trying to introduce him to something far bigger that couldn’t yet be put into words.

And he really had no time to yell, for if his guess was true, then he didn’t have much time.

"I’m asking if we could...maybe buy it from our company’s allocation?" _{ƒгeewёbnovel.com}