The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] novel Chapter 838

Chapter 838: Sharp Grins, Dull Blades

Sure enough, the wider the grin, the sharper the blade.

But what good was a sharp blade in clumsy hands?

Well, Doyle Rook was about to find out.

While most of the Empire was busy arguing over the precise second a deep-fried potato ball should be scooped out of the oil, one smug reflector was discovering just how hard it was to even get close enough to swing.

Just moments ago, Doyle had been stomping around the Iron Panthers booth in a fury. But after his enlightening discussion with their guild leader, his perspective had shifted. He had calmed down. Refined his anger. Redirected it.

He would be helpful.

Very helpful.

Armed with confidence and a plan he was convinced was brilliant, Doyle eagerly took to Star Net to begin what he believed would be a masterful maneuver.

With a devious smile, he opened a new thread.

[Thinking of Applying to House Kyros—What’s It Actually Like?]

[OP: Genuine question. Been thinking about applying to House Kyros. The benefits sound kind of insane, but I don’t really know anyone personally so I figured I would ask. Is it true? If so, what’s the workload like? Any downsides?]

Doyle leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled.

Let’s see just how good they really are.

He swapped devices and logged into a subordinate’s account, typing quickly before anyone could get ahead of him.

[Me too, OP! I heard they have regular access to the food and honestly just for that I’d be willing to slave away. I even heard everyone gets to try the food every month?!]

He snorted softly.

Perfect bait.

"Hmph."

Satisfied, Doyle closed both devices and returned to showing cadets around the booth, fully expecting chaos to erupt any second now.

And erupt it did.

Just not the way he had imagined.

At first, his wrist vibrated. He purposely left the notifications on because he wanted to know every time someone would interact with his post.

He smiled at the thought of receiving a response but ignored first because he was still showing a bunch of kids around.

Then it vibrated again.

Stronger.

Then his entire arm began buzzing like it was possessed.

One of the cadets hesitated. "Uh, my lord? Your terminal looks like it’s trying to escape."

Irritated, Doyle finally checked.

And froze.

Replies were pouring in. Rapidly. Relentlessly.

The thread had exploded and his face soured because the replies he kept on getting were harping exaggerated praises.

[Downside: Everyone would always assume you’re lying.

Upside: Literally everything else.

Also, if you hate being treated like a person, don’t apply.]

Ugh.

His face scrunched up every time he did it, but the hulking senior still pressed the upvote just to keep up appearances.

Every now and then he would respond with "wow" and "can’t wait to apply!" while trying not to puke.

Even if the goal had been to hype them up, he really found all those deluded people to be annoying. But then finally he saw an interesting response and grabbed onto it.

["What’s it like working there?"]

Attachment: A blurry but cheerful group photo of people crowded around a low table, sleeves rolled up, several lunch boxes already half empty.

[Wait. So is it true? They really give food to everyone monthly?]

Attachment: A mechanic sitting casually on the massive foot of a parked mecha, legs dangling, eating from a lunch box.

Attachment: A thumbs up, the background clearly showing an open lunch box filled with colorful food.

[Ah! You get what you give. Hard work gets rewarded here. But good luck trying to get extra work when everyone is competing for it. P.S. Be careful of the brooms!] 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

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