The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] novel Chapter 839

Chapter 839: Balls of Envy

But maybe he should have considered how long it would actually take to reach the storefront of the most popular booth in the Expo.

Because while he was still seething somewhere at the far end of the line, stuck behind bodies while his temper and rage slowly fermented, somewhere inside his intended destination, the peaceful and deeply content group of fortunate individuals was already showing off their balls.

The fried kind.

Reeve, for one, could barely believe he had made the dish with his own hands.

Sure, not every piece had come out perfectly round. A few of the earlier attempts were a little lumpy, slightly misshapen, and clearly rolled with enthusiasm rather than finesse. But the moment he picked one up, all doubts vanished.

He held the small golden ball carefully between his fingers and pulled it apart.

The crust gave way with a soft crackle.

Inside, pale strands stretched and stretched, clinging stubbornly from one half to the other, glossy and molten as they refused to separate. Steam puffed out. The smell alone was criminal.

"Hngh!"

Reeve couldn’t even bother saving his dignity in front of the Empire.

He bit into it immediately, hissing as the heat forced him to wave one hand frantically in front of his mouth while still chewing like his life depended on it. Around him, others were doing the exact same thing. Half dancing. Half suffering. Entirely unwilling to wait another second.

It was absurd.

And it was glorious.

What shocked him even more was just how many each person had managed to make.

Depending on the size they chose, the yield varied wildly. The children, in particular, stunned everyone. With their tiny hands, they could only roll smaller portions, but that meant they ended up with far more pieces than the adults. Trays filled up at alarming speed as little hands worked tirelessly, faces serious, proud, and utterly focused.

The orcs had the opposite problem.

Their hands forced them into making much larger balls, which resulted in fewer pieces overall. Yet even then, they stared down at their plates in surprise, realizing they loved everything about the result except the quantity.

No one complained.

How could they?

All around the booth, people stood taller. Smiles were wide. Postures were proud.

They had done it.

They had successfully prepared two dishes with their own hands.

If only Reeve’s viewers were sharing the same joy.

Because while those watching from afar were already weak from envy over the expo attendees, the allocation winners, and especially the cooking class participants, now they were forced to contend with yet another group.

[Excuse me, Mr. Reeve! Please ask our Young Lord what to do if the mixture isn’t forming into a ball as easily?]

The comment blinked onto the screen and it was a line that didn’t match the envious lamentations of everyone else who could only see and not taste.

One second.

Two.

Then messages poured in.

[What?]

[Who is this?]

[Why are you asking? Are you cooking?]

[Wait. Why are you asking HIM for advice.]

Several viewers immediately scoffed.

[Oh, sure. Next, you’ll tell us you’re frying them too.]

[Nice try. I’m wishing the same thing too.]

[This is clearly bait. But brother/sister, there’s really no need to do that when we’re all already feeling equally bad.]

But the denial barely lasted a few seconds before more messages began pouring in.

[Hold on...You too?]

[Ha! I knew it! I was just about to ask the same thing but was wondering how to describe my problem!]

[Mine keeps sticking to my hands. I think I didn’t drain all the water properly?] 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚

[Same! I swear I pressed it already but it still feels wet!]

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