The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] novel Chapter 321

Chapter 321: Join

Ever had that itch on your nose coupled with the feeling of your eyes stinging, yet it stops right there?

You managed to stop it, holding it off so it never falls. And you say it stops because you’re strong and can handle your emotions.

Or so you think.

Just like Luca, who was in the same exact position, only to be surprised by a refreshing palm over his eyes.

The darkness came out of nowhere.

Xavier didn’t say a word. He didn’t offer comfort in the form of words or speeches. He simply raised his hand and covered Luca’s eyes with his palm, like a shield.

And that was all it took.

The pressure that had been sitting right behind Luca’s lashes—the burn, the heat, the ache—gave way.

The first tear fell.

Then another.

And it couldn’t be stopped.

The tears fell like a dam breaking, and yet, Luca remained silent as a mouse.

Not a single sob escaped. No gasp. No wail.

Just tears—hot, endless, and soundless—as they streamed down his cheeks and soaked into Xavier’s palm. He trembled in the prince’s arms, his breath hitching only faintly, as if even now, he was trying not to be a burden.

And from across them, Duchess Amelia watched—helpless.

Her heart broke with every silent tear her son shed.

Because even now, even after everything he’d told them, he still cried quietly, as if alone. Like he didn’t expect to be comforted. Like he didn’t even know how to be.

She didn’t move.

Couldn’t.

Because deep inside, something twisted hard in her chest as she asked herself—

Did she even have the right to comfort him?

She hadn’t been there.

She hadn’t protected him.

She hadn’t known.

So how could she possibly act like she deserved to touch this boy, no, this young man, who had suffered all that and still managed to sit there like it was normal?

She was his mother.

But that title felt so hollow now.

Like a nameplate she no longer earned.

Her hand twitched at her side, unsure. Her mouth parted, but she couldn’t speak.

And Xavier, still cradling Luca, noticed.

He caught that flicker of grief in her eyes. The panic. The guilt. The deep, soul-carving ache of a mother who didn’t know how to reach her own child.

He wasn’t the most emotionally expressive man. But he knew what it meant to want to hold someone and not be allowed.

He knew what a mother’s embrace could do, something that parents could give.

So he gently adjusted his hold, kissed the top of Luca’s head, and nodded at Amelia.

Go on.

You’re allowed.

The duchess’s eyes widened, startled. Her lips trembled. She almost looked like she might run, but Xavier gave her another small, steady nod.

So she inched forward.

Ever so carefully.

Softly, like she was afraid of startling the person before her.

And when she knelt in front of them, she didn’t say a word.

She simply reached out—with hands that had once wielded blades, now trembling like leaves in a storm—and opened her arms.

Luca blinked, confused by the sudden shift.

And when he squinted from the sudden disappearance of that hand and saw her, his mother, face stricken with emotion, hands outstretched toward him as if begging him to let her in—

His throat clenched, and something inside Luca shattered.

There was nothing composed about her now, but most of all, she didn’t look distant.

His eyes flew wide, breath catching with a noise that cracked on its way out of his throat.

And when Xavier slowly let go, urging Luca to slide from his lap into her arms...

That was when the dam didn’t just break.

It burst.

The sound tore out of him—raw and gasping, a broken sob wrenched straight from his chest.

He collapsed into her, arms flinging around her waist, clutching her like he’d been holding back for years.

And he wept.

He bawled—ugly, wrenching sobs that echoed down the tunnel walls like a long-overdue confession of pain.