The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] novel Chapter 396

Chapter 396: Language

But what could he really tell his brother?

That they didn’t mention everything? Like how there were so many kinds!

Or maybe how they didn’t talk about what to do after?

But mainly, how would he explain how the wall slam should leave you breathless, with your mind so gooey that you’d still be a puddle for the next hour or so?

Because he was.

Luca’s legs were like jelly, and when he was finally returned to his workstation at the manufacturing lab, Xavier had to get him a chair to sit on.

Now, the prince didn’t actually think it was good to return him like this, but the flustered yet very responsible dungeon owner received a ping that the machine had finished with its tasks, and all that was left was the assembly.

But really, he should’ve delayed it.

Because walking felt wrong. Sitting felt wrong. Everything felt wrong.

Or maybe it felt too right.

Because Luca could barely retrieve the parts as he pondered more about what had happened during that long walk toward the lab. _{ƒreewebɳovel.com}

Yes, they walked. Because Xavier asked if they could, because if they teleport, then he’d have to let go of Luca far sooner than he’d like.

Obviously, Luca almost choked after hearing this, but the flustered guide agreed. He just didn’t imagine having to be carried because he couldn’t even feel his jelly legs.

His face was buried in Xavier’s shoulder. He couldn’t look up. Not when his entire body was betraying him by being too aware of every motion.

Every step was steady. Gentle. But each one somehow shook him like another wall slam.

Xavier tilted his head slightly, his lips brushing close towards Luca’s ear which got him flinching in surprise.

"You’ve experienced a few versions now," the prince said, tone amused. "I hope it will help when visualizing for your research."

"!!!"

"Wha—?!"

Xavier raised a brow, his mouth twitching with a barely there smirk, "I’m glad you’re taking your research seriously."

"H-huh?"

"I support it," Xavier said calmly. "Especially if it helps you understand what your love language might be."

"...Huh?"

"Love language," the prince said, never imagining that he’d actually have use for this information. "If you figure yours out, I’ll know how to love you better."

Luca almost bit his own tongue. "W-Wait—my what?"

"Your love language," Xavier repeated patiently. "It’s basically how you want to be loved or how you express your love."

"It’s something I probably shouldn’t know, honestly. But my mother used to rant about it all the time." The prince shook his head, remembering his childhood.

"Your mother?" Luca blinked.

"She said it often," Xavier went on. "Usually while waving a wooden spoon and threatening to shove it into the nearest sentimental fool who thought jewelry fixed everything."

"...That’s oddly specific."

"She’s oddly specific," verified the son of the oddly specific Empress.

"Well, her preaching stuck. I didn’t think it’d ever come in handy, but I guess mothers really do know best, huh?"

Luca’s curiosity finally caught up with his confusion. "So...what is it, really? Love language?"

"It was a concept introduced by an ancient human," Xavier explained, adjusting his hold on Luca slightly as they walked. "He observed how people express emotions and noticed that not everyone shows or receives love the same way."

"Oh..."

"Sometimes, even if two people care deeply for each other, they still end up hurt or misunderstood—just because their ’languages’ don’t match."

That made Luca’s brows scrunch. "...So like, they’re both right, but still end up wrong?"

"In a sense, because while it’s not wrong, it doesn’t really hit the mark," Xavier said. "My father, for example, is a gift giver. That’s how he shows love—he buys things, gives you thoughtful presents, wraps them up, and makes a show of giving them."

Luca tilted his head. "That doesn’t sound bad."

"It’s not," Xavier agreed. "Except my mother’s love language was quality time."

"Oh."

"And my father was terribly busy," he continued. "Always off in some major meeting. But every time he sent a gift instead of coming home on time...she’d grow more upset."