The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] novel Chapter 866

Chapter 866: The Prince Who Could See

Blessed with sharp eyes, intense persistence, and the unmistakable determination of a partially guilty romantic, one puppet prince could see perfectly well.

So for all intents and purposes, Prince Elior absolutely did not need to hear Rahil’s blow-by-blow account of the very same thing unfolding before his eyes.

Unfortunately for said prince, Rahil—who needed justice for being woken up even earlier than the devil for today’s excursion—disagreed.

They had picked a spot that was both far enough to avoid attention and close enough for their kind to see everything. A ridiculous perch, really. One had to climb, sidestep, and practically cling to railings that were clearly not meant to be used by sane people just to get to that obscure lookout. But the view was excellent.

And Rahil, despite feeling like shit, was thriving.

"And now," he said calmly, hands folded behind his back as if delivering a weather report, "a certain someone who couldn’t be named, hereby respectfully called ’she’ for safety, is greeting another group of children."

Elior, as expected, did not respond.

Rahil continued anyway.

"She’s consciously bending slightly to meet their height," the aide said. "Very considerate. Extremely dangerous."

He paused, eyes narrowing in sharp focus.

"Ah. There it is."

Rahil cleared his throat. Thankfully, this time around, he didn’t feel like coughing out his remaining lung. Unlike the first time he had witnessed the gesture, he managed to keep himself together as he resumed his narration.

"She kissed her left bicep," he reported evenly.

A beat.

"And now her right bicep."

"Your Highness, the children appear delighted. One of them even looks like he may cry from happiness."

Elior’s fingers tightened on the railing.

"Remarkable stamina," Rahil went on, voice flat. "This is the seventh group in a row. No signs of fatigue. If anything, she seems more energetic."

"Rahil," Elior said without looking away.

"Yes, Your Highness?"

"I can see."

"Of course," Rahil replied smoothly. "Merely providing commentary for emotional enrichment."

The prince who could definitely see didn’t dignify that with a response.

From where they were, the two watched as the gathering crowd shifted. Children scattered happily. A new customer stepped forward.

The aide inhaled softly.

"Oh."

Someone’s jaw tightened.

"And now," Rahil said, with what could only be described as malicious calm, "a grown man has approached the booth."

Silence.

"She tucks her hair behind her ear," Rahil continued. "A very gentle motion. One might even call it thoughtful."

Elior’s eye twitched.

"And there it is," Rahil added. "A soft chuckle."

That did it.

"Rahil," Elior said, voice sharp, "shut up."

Rahil immediately complied. There were only so many buttons he could push before he himself was pushed out from the perch.

Silence fell between them, broken only by the distant noise of the expo and the sound of Elior breathing very slowly through his nose.

Several seconds passed.

Then Elior spoke again, tone clipped and precise.

"It wasn’t a soft chuckle."

Rahil glanced sideways.

"She was merely grinning."

Rahil looked fully at the prince who hadn’t blinked since earlier.

That pointed gaze stayed fixed ahead, while Elior’s posture remained rigid, his expression so carefully composed it bordered on unnatural.

Rahil waited.

Sure enough, his boss continued, as if compelled to correct the record.

Uh-huh.

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