The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] novel Chapter 303

Chapter 303: Time

The silence inside the barrier hung thick with disbelief.

Even now, moments after confirming each other’s identities, Amelia found herself trembling. Her hands refused to unclench, and her breath wouldn’t steady.

She was alive, but it felt like her soul had been yanked back from the edge of a dream—or a nightmare.

It didn’t feel real.

She had tried to suppress this hope.

Day after day, year after year, in this cursed dungeon, she’d fought to forget how long it had been.

She’d trained herself to ignore the ache in her chest, to pretend the silence of her terminal wasn’t maddening. She fought like someone who’d already died yet couldn’t find peace as she clung onto her heart’s regrets.

But what was this? Her long-time confidante and friend was here and was spewing words she’d only dreamed of.

And she wasn’t even dead yet?!

"Please, Your Grace," Butler Gary said softly, his voice thick with restrained emotion. He offered a gloved hand to help her lower herself onto a flat patch of smooth stone.

Amelia Soren Kyros—the Duchess of Kyros, once a soldier feared on the battlefield—sat with practiced poise, her spine ramrod straight, as if any display of weakness might shatter the fragile dignity she still clung to.

And yet, her knuckles turned white where they gripped the folds of her cloak, the tremor in her breath betraying her composure.

But her hands moved before her mind could catch up. She gripped his sleeve tightly, like letting go might break the spell. Her eyes scanned his face, searching for cracks, confirmation, or denial.

Anything.

"Tell me about him," she said at last, her voice softer than a whisper.

Gary blinked, confused for a moment, before realization dawned.

"Young Lord Luca?"

She nodded. Her voice cracked. "Is he... still bedridden?"

"Is he...is he eating enough? Does he look too thin? Have you been giving him his supplements?"

She swallowed.

"Has he grown taller after so many years?"

Butler Gary’s heart stuttered.

She still remembered him as the boy who couldn’t move. Still frozen in time, while the world had gone on without her.

When he smiled—a soft, relieved, bittersweet thing—Amelia panicked.

"No," she breathed. "No, don’t do that. Don’t smile like that. What happened?"

"He’s okay," Gary said quickly. "He’s more than okay, Your Grace. He’s more than we’ve all imagined."

Amelia blinked.

"The Young Lord woke up," Gary whispered reverently. "Months ago. He’s...he’s incredible. Strong, intelligent, and extremely kind."

"And somehow...he brought the Duke back."

"?"

"!!!"

"What—?"

The Duchess choked on a laugh.

And then another. And then sobbed.

She covered her face with both hands and laughed and cried at the same time, overwhelmed by the sheer absurdity and joy of it.

"He did it," she whispered. "That bastard Leander actually did it. He said—he said the heavens would probably spit him back if he died. That hell wouldn’t take him because he was too gullible."

Gary chuckled wetly. "It was touch and go. But he made it."

The Duchess sat frozen for a long moment, drinking it all in.

"My son. I have to see him," she said. "I have to—now."

The woman who had been desperate to defeat the boss wasn’t just fired up this time.

She was going to get it done, hell or high water.

But the butler lifted a hand.

"No need to look so far, Your Grace," he said, gently steering her upward.

"What do you mean?"

He guided her to a narrow ledge overlooking their makeshift camp. And there, in a halo of crystal glow and flickering light, stood a boy.

A boy who laughed like sunshine.

He was snacking. Of course, he was.

He was with Lord Ollie, talking animatedly about something. Maybe fungus. Maybe glowing fruit. Or whatever rock they possibly found earlier. Who knew?

Smother his face with kisses, bop his nose, ask about his day, his life...so many things, but—

She was clear on her dreams of seeing her son, her husband, and her people. But she meant it when she said she’d like to just see them.