The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] novel Chapter 810

Chapter 810: Shared Suffering

What followed the teenager’s success was a sudden and dramatic shift in the atmosphere of the arcade.

People began to gather.

At first it was subtle. A few curious glances. A couple of passersby slowing their steps. Then it escalated rapidly as more and more attendees were drawn in by the reactions of a group of clearly passionate young men who had decided this was no longer casual entertainment.

This was war.

Sleeves were rolled up. Jackets were handed off. Someone cracked their knuckles.

From the outside, one might have thought they were preparing for a ritual rather than a game. Stretching. Breathing exercises. Staring at the machine like it had personally insulted them.

Owen Mylor, for one, had won his first ever claw machine prize after stretching three times in place.

He had not stopped stretching since.

Every round, he repeated it with grave seriousness before touching the controls, convinced it was now a critical component of his success.

Princess Kira watched all of this with open delight.

And just as she suspected, the machines were not personally targeting her after all.

They were simply demons.

Absolute demons.

Some people were reduced to dramatic despair, collapsing onto the floor as their hopes were crushed for the tenth time in a row. Others were inexplicably pulling prizes like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And among the latter was Marco.

For reasons no one could explain.

He simply... got it.

This was especially painful for Sam, who had failed over twenty times and was currently engaged in a heated negotiation with his chosen machine.

"Listen," Sam muttered, leaning in close, "I am being very reasonable right now."

The machine, however, didn’t respond.

Around him, people who had started at the same time were celebrating their wins. Sam’s breathing grew more panicked with every cheer that was not for him.

And he had been so focused that he didn’t even realize how Princess Kira had been looming nearby.

Then again, it was fine that he didn’t notice because she wasn’t there to communicate with him, after all.

She stared.

Pointedly.

She gestured.

Several gestures, actually. And all of them were directed toward Marco who had been watching from the side.

The interpreting soldier glanced between the princess, the increasingly distraught Sam, and the claw machine.

"...Let me try," he said finally.

Sam whipped around. "Fine!" he snapped, stepping aside. "You try, since you’re that confident!"

He folded his arms, face twisted in frustration, already preparing himself to watch Marco fail just as spectacularly.

Marco, on the other hand, only nodded.

He stepped forward and took the controls without ceremony.

Sam watched from the side, brows furrowed.

The claw descended into a deep and crowded pile.

It closed.

But just as the waiting ball of frustration was about to say something along the lines of "I told you so."

The buried claw rose.

With something in it.

Sam froze.

His brain stalled.

"That was your first try," he said faintly.

Marco watched the prize drop cleanly into the chute.

Then he picked it up.

And tossed it.

Sam yelped on instinct, barely managing to catch it as it hit his chest.

"What?" Sam blurted out.

"It’s yours," Marco said simply.

"Huh?" Sam stared down at the prize, then back up. "What?"

Marco shrugged, easy and unbothered. "As your date, I’ve been told it’s my responsibility to spoil you today."

Sam’s mouth opened.

No sound came out.

Marco glanced at him with a light smirk before turning back to the machine.

He swiped again.

He didn’t understand what was happening.

He didn’t understand why it was happening.

And he definitely didn’t understand why that bastard buddy of his suddenly looked... a little too sparkly.

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