The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] novel Chapter 346

Chapter 346: Impossibly Real

Apparently, his doubts were founded as it wasn’t just his tears that were falling.

In fact, Duke Leander hadn’t even realized he was crying. Not truly. At least not until the sounds reached him. Not his own ragged breaths, but the shuddering sobs of Gisella and Ollie, one of whom was rarely associated with uncontrolled emotion, while the other was a fountain of feeling who didn’t even try to stop it.

They wailed. Loudly. Freely. Ugly with joy.

And maybe that was what covered up his own sound, the trembling in his chest that wouldn’t quite rise to his throat.

It was because the figure Gisella clung to had begun to move.

Leander actually didn’t see it. His vision was clouded with tears that had nothing to do with the miraculous recovery happening over there.

Not at first.

But had he looked, he would’ve seen how the figure garbled a cough followed by a strained mumble for water.

And it was that moment that got those two wailing. Ollie collapsed forward like someone had cut his strings, pressing his forehead to the cracked plating of her armor.

Gisella, on the other hand, laughed and cried at the same time, her entire body folding as she wrapped herself around the dwarf’s frame like a human shield of emotion.

"She’s breathing," someone whispered, hoarse and trembling. "She’s really breathing."

The Duke wished he could say the same for himself.

For he just stood there frozen once more, but this time not from fear but from disbelief.

He’d just witnessed a miracle. And yet all he could do was stand there, mouth parted, vision blurred by tears he hadn’t given permission to fall.

And then—

A hand pressed against his chest.

His breath caught in his throat as he looked down, because save for his son, there was only one other person who could still stop his heart like this.

And she was standing right there.

Duchess Amelia Soren Kyros.

For a moment, Duke Leander truly believed he’d gone mad.

That his grief and desperation had conjured an illusion. A last, cruel joke played by a reality that had already taken so much from him.

Because the figure that stood between him and the truth looked exactly like—

"Lia...?" he croaked, voice rasping like it had come from the bottom of a well.

His legs moved before his mind caught up, a step forward, then another.

Not that they were even far apart, but he itched to be closer to confirm.

But she was already there.

And her hand lifted—steady, practiced, and knowing as she gently pressed a finger to his mouth before the first sob could escape.

"Hi, my big baby," she whispered, eyes glistening but dry as she held on better than expected. "What do you say about working with me here?"

She looked every bit calm in this, her voice barely even shaking, but her eyes betrayed this calm. It was just that they had to deal with this first, and only then would she be able to finally let go.

Duchess Amelia was calm, not because she wasn’t feeling it, but because someone had to stay composed or they’d both be puddles over here. And knowing her husband? He’d likely form a lake by himself.

But the giant ball of feelings barely heard anything past "baby" as he gawked at the person who looked so real before him.

She looked weary, beautiful, and impossibly real.

Leander’s chest heaved.

But the sound really never came.

Because her touch was gentle, not silencing in dismissal, but in love. In understanding. In the quiet strength of someone who had always known how fragile he could be when it came to her.

"Or maybe you can shed a bit now," she said, thumb brushing just beneath his eye. "And leave some to cry with me later..."

His hand trembled as it rose, cradling hers, pressing her palm harder to his cheek like he couldn’t believe it was real.

She let him.

Then leaned in, eyes clenched, his face touching her head for just a breath.

Leander’s lips parted again.

"Lia..."

He whispered it like a prayer.

"Lia..."

Again.

And again.

And she thought, not for the first time, How could I not fall for him all over again?

"If I don’t see at least a kiss after being stabbed like that," Cece croaked hoarsely, "I might keel over again just for spite. C’mon! Give us something over here!"

Amelia blinked.

Then she laughed. Loudly. Freely. The kind of laugh that cracked the weight pressing against her chest.

She turned back to Leander with a grin blooming so wide it stretched from the years they’d lost to the seconds they’d clawed back.

"Oh, you heard the lady," she teased, her voice finally trembling, her hands slipping up to cup his jaw.

Leander’s eyes widened, blinking at her in awed disbelief.

Then her lips found his—tentative at first, a brush, a test—before he surged forward with a needy, aching pull, wrapping his arms around her like he could mold them back into one.

If only.

Their kiss deepened, urgency swelling between them, years of waiting collapsing into a singular, breathless now.

It was messy, desperate, everything a long-overdue reunion should be.

And when they finally parted, just barely, Amelia leaned her forehead against his, a smirk softening her tearful gaze.

"I missed you," she whispered. "Missed you so much, I think I might overlook a few things after inspection."

The normally courageous Duke gulped, just before remembering a few (a lot) of things he wanted to show off to his wife.

Leander’s lips parted into a grin so wide it nearly hurt, a brightness igniting in his eyes that hadn’t been there in months.

If he’d had a tail, it would’ve wagged fervently.

Instead, he pressed a line of reverent kisses to her temple, her cheek, the corner of her mouth, chasing her like a man starved of every glorious piece of her.

"I’ll make sure there’s plenty for you to be proud of! But you already said it, you’ll overlook a few things," he murmured fervently, nuzzling against her, his voice thick with wonder and gratitude.

"You cannot take it back, okay?"

She laughed again, arms tightening around his neck.

And for a fleeting, precious moment—amidst the piles of damaged mecha, the lingering dust, the wounded and weary—they were simply husband and wife, finding their way back home to each other.

Well, also a couple who had managed to fluster their shell-shocked son, who almost fainted from the public display of affection.

Waaaah!