The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] novel Chapter 440

Chapter 440: My Friend

Ollie stared at his terminal like it owed him emotional stability. It did not.

His thumb hovered over the call button far longer than necessary before he pressed it, and the moment the connection went through, he instantly regretted it.

"...Oliver?" came the voice of a mildly alarmed mother. "Is something wrong? It’s the middle of the night, my dear."

"!!!"

"Mom! I need advice!" he blurted.

The Marquise blinked from her lounge chair on the other side of the star system. "Oh? What sort of advice?"

"It’s for a friend," he said far too quickly.

"A friend."

Okay?

"Yes! He—uh—he got confessed to!"

"Hmm. I see." The Marquise smiled faintly, already amused. "And your friend decided it’s best to call me at this hour...because?"

"There’s a problem!"

"With the confession?"

"No, no!" Ollie shook his head, realized she couldn’t see him i this position, then whispered anyway, "The confession wasn’t the problem. I think?"

"Oh?" Marquise Julienne leaned forward slightly. "Then what is?"

"Well...my friend thought they were like brothers. Like family."

The interested mother raised a single, elegant brow.

"But apparently—" Ollie took a dramatic pause, hand over his heart like he was recounting the fall of a great empire, "—they were doing things that sworn brothers don’t usually do!"

"I see." The Marquise nodded gravely, hiding her delight. "And now?"

"Now the friend is confused. Very confused."

"And?"

"AND HE MIGHT BE DYING, MOM!" Ollie cried, flopping onto the bed like it was his fainting couch. "Of embarrassment! Or shock! Or both! His legs still don’t work right! He’s sweating through his sheets! His mind is gone!"

There was a beat of silence.

Then the Marquise sighed, lips twitching in poorly concealed amusement. "Oh dear. That does sound serious."

Her voice, warm and smooth as silk, held nothing but mirth.

"Tell me more about this very unfortunate friend of yours."

It was like a dam breaking as Ollie launched into a frenzied, jumbled retelling that made it sound like this friend had lived through a romantic epic, a spiritual catastrophe, and three life-altering enlightenment arcs—all in the span of an hour.

He was flailing again.

She could hear the rustling of his sheets as he paced, sat, rolled, and possibly somersaulted on the bed.

It was a performance. An award-winning monologue. Somewhere, a playwright was crying with envy.

But when he finally ran out of oxygen and went quiet, his mother, ever unbothered, said:

"Well, that still sounds like family."

Ollie froze. "HUH?!"

His mother continued gently, "Just...maybe not the kind of family you were raised with—the one made up of your parents and siblings that are tied with blood or choice. Nor is it the kind that you make with your closest friends, like the one you have for your guild."

"I mean it’s the kind you build with your special someone. Together. Like how your father and I built the life and family we have now."

"Build?"

"Yes. You know. The kind of family where you make a house your home, maybe raise a few kids. Or some pets. Or just stay with each other until your hair turns gray and your bones start creaking when you argue about furniture placement."

Ollie’s mouth was open.

Still open.

It stayed open for several seconds until he finally managed a sound: "EH?!"

"I mean," she went on lightly, "isn’t that the dream? A partner who becomes your family. Maybe the issue here isn’t the bond—it’s the label."

Ollie’s entire worldview was tilting like a badly piloted shuttle.

"Th-then..." he stammered, "How—how would one even know if they want that kind of family with the person who confessed?!"

Marquise Julienne chuckled. "That shouldn’t be too hard."

He straightened, a holo terminal nearly summoned in hand, if only to keep him from combusting.

She continued, calm and patient, "Just imagine someone else in your place."

Ollie blinked. "Huh?"

"Let’s say you miss your chance. And someone else steps in. They start a life together. Picture them holding hands. Building a home. Having a family. A partner, kids, and pets. Or just a quiet life, traveling together, being each other’s person."

OH NO.

She leaned back, amused. "Do you remember when you and your siblings were younger? You’d always lose something—say it was gone—even after ’searching everywhere’?"

"Yes," he replied warily, already sensing a setup. "But what does that have to do with this?"

"And do you remember how you’d all come crying to me for help? Only for me to return to the exact spot you supposedly searched and find the missing item there?"

"...Yes. And then you’d scold us and say, ’Use your eyes, instead of your mouth.’"

"Because you were looking—but not really seeing," she said with a smile. "You’d already made up your mind that it was gone, so your eyes stopped registering what was right in front of you."

Ollie frowned.

"It’s the same here. If your friend only ever thought of this person as family, their brain would’ve filtered out everything that didn’t match that label. They trained themselves to ignore the signs. Doesn’t mean the signs weren’t there."

She raised a brow delicately.

"And in most cases, it’s easier for a different set of eyes to notice something that you could’ve easily dismissed." ƒгeewebnovёl.com

There was a pause.

Then she added, almost too casually, "How often does your friend check the forums?"

"...The what now?" Ollie blinked.

And suddenly, he wasn’t sure if he’d missed something small... or something life-altering.

She arched an eyebrow. "The forums. The school forums. You know, where rumors and reactions and...interesting information live?"

Ollie looked staggered.

His mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again.

"I...I don’t—I mean I’ve never really—" he sputtered.

He loved checking the forums, but usually he’d check the ones about his brother, about their guild, and the latest gossip. But he never really looked at the other threads.

The Marquise hid her amusement with expert grace. "Oh. Well. Maybe it’s time your friend takes a little look. Might be surprised at what’s already public knowledge."

Ollie, still dazed, nodded slowly like a man handed the key to a vault labeled Top Secret Life Revelations.

But then he froze again.

"...Mom?"

"Hm?"

"How does one sleep after being confessed to?" he asked, eyes wide with genuine suffering.