The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] novel Chapter 1141

Chapter 1141: The Wandering View

Killian Nox was admittedly hyperventilating, but the moment he realized he was standing inside his own cabin once again, he almost sagged in relief against the nightstand despite his aching back.

Good.

So it really had just been a dream.

That utterly deranged, panic-inducing dream was finally over.

Or so he thought.

Just as he was trying to calm his breathing, his vision clouded over once again without warning.

"What the—"

The familiar room disappeared as though swallowed by fog before another scene slowly emerged, leaving the young official staring at something he recognized all too well.

A neck.

"Son of a—!"

Safe to say, he had very nearly suffered a heart attack.

But enough with focusing on that small bit when there was an even more pressing situation demanding an appropriate response, one that he was, unfortunately, still in the process of coming up with.

"..."

Nothing.

He had absolutely nothing.

So, gathering every last shred of self-control he could muster, along with whatever remnants of decorum he still possessed, the thoroughly frazzled Killian attempted to rationalize the situation.

It went something like this.

Okay, a neck.

Not particularly alarming, because it was a neck he’d seen countless times before.

Then came a broad, bare chest still dotted with droplets of water as though its owner had only just stepped out of the shower.

Hmm...

That wasn’t exactly unusual either.

Anyone who trained alongside Jax, or any other man for that matter, himself included, had seen enough bare chests over the years—practically every day—that the sight should hardly have been worth a second glance.

Should be fine, right?

Well, unfortunately, whatever was controlling this viewpoint didn’t seem interested in stopping there.

Killian watched in mounting horror as it continued drifting downward.

Past the chest.

Past the unnecessarily defined abdomen.

Past the suspiciously lean yet chiseled torso.

And then toward that unmistakable V that led to somewhere absolutely no respectable subconscious should ever feel compelled to investigate.

The realization struck him like lightning.

"No, no, no..."

His balance gave out in the real world.

Still standing beside his bed with one hand braced against the nightstand, Killian stumbled sideways and promptly smacked the back of his head against the wall.

"Ow! Oh fuck me!"

He clutched the offended spot with one hand while squeezing his eyes shut, as though refusing to look would somehow spare him from whatever fresh insanity his sleeping mind had concocted... and which, much to his horror, his fully awake mind now seemed determined to continue.

Absolutely not.

He wasn’t thinking about any of this.

He’d swear on his life.

His heart was beating so violently against his ribs that it felt ready to escape, and just when he silently prayed not to be shown anything that would forever serve as evidence of his own derangement, a familiar voice suddenly cut through the panic.

Definitely not in his room, but still, it came in loud and clear.

"Oh, hey! Little bee, how’d you get in here?"

Killian froze.

Completely.

"You realize if your wings get wet, you’ll have a difficult time flying. Good thing I saw you there."

In the comforts of his suddenly unreliable room, the official remained perfectly still.

Little... bee?

But before he could even begin making sense of those words, an outstretched finger entered his vision, growing larger and larger until it occupied nearly everything he could see as Jax patiently waited for the tiny bee to climb aboard.

It was only then that Killian’s frantic mind finally managed to catch up.

Of course, whatever he had in mind didn’t make any scientific sense. But it made sense to explain why he, of all people, would be having such dreams.

Those hallucinations...

This moment right here...

The haziness that had repeatedly appeared whenever his vision shifted...

It had never been blurred.

Now that he’d calmed down enough to actually look, he could make out countless tiny and extremely faint hexagons overlaying everything before him, like an impossibly intricate lattice that sharpened and softened the world all at once.

This couldn’t possibly be his eyes.

Holy flipping fuck.

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