The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] novel Chapter 317

Chapter 317: Misconceptions

But not all prayers could be answered.

And instead of the beautiful sound of cracking ground and falling debris, what they were greeted with was the hiss of the cockpit seals disengaging.

It should’ve been barely audible. But to those watching, it may as well have been the starting bell to war.

Duchess Amelia’s body tensed.

She didn’t even wait for the door to open and was already stepping forward, eyes locked on the cockpit like it had personally offended three generations of her ancestors.

But who was she kidding? Three? Make that five.

Ollie was practically shaking Kyle now as he stared wide-eyed at the duchess, who was ready to spring.

"Kyle!!!" Ollie hissed, gripping his arm like it was the only thing tethering him to life.

But what could they do?

The mother dragon was ready to strike.

Cece barely managed to intercept her again with both arms outstretched and a full-body tackle that looked far too intense for someone her size.

"Wait!" the dwarf yelped, planting herself in Amelia’s path. "Wait, wait, wait—look!"

Amelia was breathing hard, fury pulsing under her skin like a second heartbeat.

But she looked.

For she did have to check if those destructive tendrils still surrounded her son.

However, she didn’t expect to have to blink twice, no, thrice.

Then paused.

Because she wasn’t particularly expecting this kind of scene.

Out stepped Luca.

Not bruised. Not shaking. Not barely conscious.

No.

Her boy was glowing.

Radiant, flushed, skin soft and dewy like he was out there competing with a baby’s butt. He was holding himself upright, eyes clear, lips lightly parted like he’d simply had a long nap and a very refreshing facial.

If not for those furrowed brows and his odd situation, the duchess would’ve thought that her son had visited the fountain of youth.

But what made everything look suspicious was the person being assisted by her son.

The perpetrator.

The boy—no, man—she had been mentally eviscerating for the last forty-eight minutes.

The one she’d been ready to flatten the moment the hatch opened.

And he looked...

Like he had five minutes left to live.

See, Xavier Aeric Thoren Solaris, heir to the Imperial Crown, descended the cockpit step with Luca’s help, trying—and failing—to hide just how much weight he was not putting on his legs.

His skin was pale, his breath was shallow, and his jaw was clenched like he was biting back an entire speech on pride.

But to one particular duchess, her focus was on how this giant didn’t look one bit guilty.

He looked wrecked.

And Luca, for all his glow and shine, was holding him with the utmost care, like someone tending to glass.

Amelia’s brain short-circuited.

"That—what—" she started, only to find that her words refused to cooperate.

"Your Grace," came a voice from behind her.

Everyone turned.

It was Butler Gary.

"This... this isn’t exactly easy to explain," he admitted. "I’m not even sure I know how to explain it."

"But Your Grace, it...goes way back. From the very first day they saw each other." _{ƒreewebɳovel.com}

Luca’s steps were cautious but steady, one arm curled firmly around Xavier’s waist. The prince, despite trying very hard not to lean, was definitely leaning. And though his expression was calm, there was a tautness around his mouth that spoke of fatigue and preparation.

Between his collapsed posture and Luca’s glowing, spa-refreshed complexion, it did look like he’d just been drained of everything while Luca had harvested the sun.

They’d been found in a very compromising position, one that practically screamed scandal. And only now did Xavier get to confirm his long-standing guess.