The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] novel Chapter 431

Chapter 431: Profiles

[Name: Oliver Mylor]

[Age: 19]

[Division: Mecha Manufacturing]

[Guild: Dungeon Guardians]

"That’s it?" Lyka hissed, glaring at her terminal like it had just insulted her entire bloodline.

"Where’s the rest of it?!" She scrolled up. She scrolled down. She pinched, zoomed, cursed, and even tapped the side in case it was just lagging. But all she was getting was nonsense about his hair color, his megawatt smile, and videos of his achievements.

Clearly, the students of this academy were all useless if that one has deceived them just like that!

She took a deep breath and straightened her posture.

Fine.

It’s fine, there’s still Plan B, anyway. She wasn’t a Vela for nothing after all.

And when the Academy forums failed to produce results, there was always one more option—

The black market.

She tapped into her encrypted network. Her fingers flew across the screen. Her expression was serious. Deadly.

That one had always been reliable anyway, and should get her the results she needed before the day even ended. And so she got to work, contacting her usuals.

However, by the bleachers of the arena, one woman who had been leisurely sipping her drink while watching the Duchess train her people received a subtle ping.

Marquise Julienne’s perfectly sculpted brow arched before taking another sip.

Ah. It seems like he’s finally attracted flies.

"How interesting, it didn’t take that long after all!" murmured the mother who was deciding on which profile to use for maximum fun. After all, the best way to hide information was to make and spread it herself!

And what a request! "Discreet, she says. How cute."

Truly, the simple joys of a retired personnel!

[Name: Oliver Mylor]

[Nickname: Ollie]

[Age: 19]

[Division: Mecha Manufacturing]

[Guild: Dungeon Guardians]

[Romantic History:]

– Allegedly, once received a paper heart from a classmate and cried for six minutes.

– Formerly considered glued to a prototype tool. They separated due to "irreconcilable rust."

– Current relationship status: Unconfirmed

[Strengths: Hidden combat abilities]

[Weakness: His mother]

[Allergies: Gifts]

[Greatest Fears:]

– Explosive casings.

– Materials not sourced by himself

– Money from untraceable sources

So, as two people from very different camps eagerly awaited the results of their endeavors—one preparing a baited result, the other refreshing the black market like it owed her a life—the most dangerous ripple was already brewing quietly over lemonade and onion rings.

Kyle received a message.

[Incoming Message – Marquise Julienne]

[Son, a little fumigation would be nice, don’t you think?]

He read it once.

And did not react outwardly, just continued to interact with everyone amidst the flurry of cries, guttural screams, and maniacal laughter that was taking over the cafeteria as the instructors started the draws.

It seemed like he’d have to check on a few things as soon as possible. But for now, he considered something.