The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] novel Chapter 804

Chapter 804: So Much for a Room

"What on the ever-loving hell—" Tyson started, then stopped, because whatever he had been about to say clearly required a few more seconds of processing.

Owen felt that in his soul.

Because when Kyle had told them to head inside, Owen had been picturing something reasonable. Maybe a few rooms connected to the reception hall. Maybe a lounge. Maybe a hall with seats and signs and polite lighting.

Not this.

So much for a room.

The space opened up so suddenly that Owen’s brain lagged a full second behind his eyes. His steps slowed without him realizing it, his body reacting before his thoughts could catch up.

Glass stretched everywhere.

It layered over steel beams that curved upward in elegant arcs, soaring so high that the teen had to tilt his head back until his neck protested. Sunlight poured in from every angle, bright and unrestrained, scattering across the floor and walls until squinting became mandatory to look up.

Greenery climbed wherever it pleased.

Balconies stacked above them and vines spilled lazily over railings. Shrubs actually grew inside the structure, the foliage shooting out proudly like that had always been an expected outcome.

Owen’s mouth was confused with what to do first.

But then he ended up delaying that problem because there was something even more striking at the very end of the atrium—

His neck craned back even farther.

"Oh," someone whispered behind him.

"Oh wow," another voice corrected reverently.

Because standing at the very back of the space was a mecha.

Not a small one.

Not a decorative one.

A full, towering white machine with broad shoulders and wing-like extensions folded neatly behind it, positioned like a guardian watching over the entire space. It wasn’t doing anything.

But Owen thought that it wouldn’t really have to do anything but just stand there.

That would have been more than enough.

A few people clustered around its base, looking ridiculously small by comparison, frozen in the exact same stunned posture Owen and his friends had adopted. And judging by their expressions, they were just as trapped in the process of staring and rethinking their understanding of reality.

But how could they not spend enough time to stare and process life when there were just so many things to see.

To the right, a brightly marked area labeled ARCADE flashed with color. Machines stood in neat rows, painted in bold shades, fitted with levers, hoops, and unfamiliar contraptions that looked wildly different from the virtual pod games Owen’s generation had grown up with.

"What even is that?" Mason muttered.

Owen had no answer.

At the center of the atrium were circular couches arranged around recessed tables.

Tables filled with paint.

The giant teen blinked.

Huh, paint?

He leaned forward slightly, trying to figure out what exactly was happening there, but his inspection was cut short when someone elbowed him sharply in the ribs.

"Owen," Tyson hissed. "Look. Over there."

The blond turned his head.

Then froze.

"...A kitchen," he said slowly. "That’s a kitchen."

The words came out of him automatically, layered with disbelief and a strange sense of recognition.

The youngest Mylor muttered under his breath, for several reasons.

Unlike most of the Empire, who were only just beginning to learn about the concept and beauty of kitchens, and not just appliances, Owen had... experience.

For one, his parents had briefly gone insane and decided to outfit all of their properties with that thing called a kitchen.

At the time, Owen had questioned their sanity. Their health. Their financial judgment.

Then he learned what it was for.

Then he tasted the results.

And finally, he had reached the inevitable conclusion that his parents were, in fact, geniuses.

They had bought the appliances before everything sold out.

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