The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] novel Chapter 457

Chapter 457: Escort

When Ollie woke up to the all-too-familiar sight of his dormitory ceiling, his first instinct was to scream.

And he did—loudly.

His roommate shot up like he’d been electrocuted, clutching his chest. "WHAT?! Emergency?! Is it the quake again?!"

"No! Wait, sorry! Sorry, sorry, sorry!" Ollie flailed, hands flapping like a panicked chick.

The poor roommate collapsed back into bed with a groan, dragging a pillow over his face, muttering something about addicts.

Ollie, still panting, clutched his blanket like a lifeline. "But...but I remember I was in the library. We were prepared to die there...Why am I back in my room?!"

He turned to his poor roommate. "Did you bring me back? Or do you know how I got back here?"

The guy scoffed. "How would I know? You were already asleep when I got here. Dead asleep. Drool and everything."

Ollie gasped. "What?"

He checked himself over: pajamas? Check. Star-shaped headband perfectly placed? Check. Cuddle pillow securely in arm? Check.

He breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe he just walked back on autopilot.

Then he froze.

Because the shirt on his cuddle pillow?

Was different.

Not just different—freshly changed.

His soul left his body.

There was only one person who’d change the shirt on his cuddle pillow. In fact, only one person would be able to replace the shirt.

"Kyle," Ollie whispered in horror.

He twisted his wrist to check his terminal, and sure enough—there it was. A message. With a photo.

[Photo Attached: Kyle smiling casually, captioned: ’Dropped you off safe. Changed your shirt—didn’t drool this time. Call if you need anything.’]

Ollie nearly passed out.

K-Kyle changed me?!

"..."

"..."

His mind raced through every interaction they’d ever had—every lazy moment when he’d demanded Kyle help him change shirts or fix his hair or carry him like a sack of flour.

How come there were so many times?

Was it every day?

Ollie clutched his pillow and whispered, "Mom, what do I do...?"

And somewhere, far away, a certain adjutant’s nose probably tickled.

Meanwhile, back in the dorm room, Ollie’s roommate kept casting furtive glances at him, nervous, awkward, as if weighing the pros and cons of saying something potentially life-altering.

Ollie stared back, just as confused.

Then the guy finally spoke.

"Hey... are you planning to permanently move out or something?"

"What?" Ollie blinked. "Why would I—?"

It was such a strange question, and Ollie, who was still emotionally fragile from discovering how he’d gotten back, could not handle confusing questions this early in the morning.

"I mean... are you dropping out? Transferring dorms? Quitting school? You’ve been gone a lot lately. I figured maybe you got recruited for something," the roommate added, scratching his head.

"It was just sanctioned guild duties," Ollie looked scandalized. "I’m planning to stay! I haven’t failed! Not yet!"

He waved his hands wildly. "I’ve been studying, okay? I’ve never studied this hard in my life!"

The roommate blinked. "I didn’t say anything about failing—"

"I’m trying!" Ollie shouted, clutching his pillow like it could vouch for him. "I swear, I’m going to pass! Even if it kills me!"

"...Right. Good luck with that," his roommate mumbled, slowly pulling his blanket over his head.

But Ollie took that to heart.

In a panic, Ollie decided to rush to class that morning. The exams were just around the corner, and most of their last-minute cramming had centered around mecha manufacturing.

All while trying not to imagine how Kyle had tucked him in the night before. Or, well, every night.

He blinked up at her. She was...so devoted. And she was right, which made him feel worse, because he himself was out here cramming. So he inevitably agreed to escort her to her classroom.

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