The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] novel Chapter 918

Chapter 918: Loss of Composure

"..."

"..."

Curtis could’ve sworn the light flickered inside what had to be the most awkward room on the capital planet today.

It didn’t matter if the flicker was a mere figment of his imagination, but with how long he had been staring at the same fixture, he was probably bound to start seeing his great ancestors waving at him from the other side.

Honestly, that would have been preferable.

Anything was better than looking to the side. Or worse, straight ahead.

Because straight ahead meant meeting the eyes of a group of cadets who were staring at him with a fervor that felt wildly inappropriate for the situation.

Blink.

Blink.

It was so silent and so painfully awkward that Curtis could practically hear it every time Young Lord Luca Kyros blinked.

Unable to take it anymore, Curtis finally opened his mouth.

"Your Highness—"

"Your Highness—"

He froze.

To his left, Eden had spoken at the exact same time.

A collective gasp rippled across the room.

Several cadets clutched at each other.

Princess Tharkira audibly inhaled as though she had just witnessed a divine alignment of the stars.

Both Eden and Curtis cleared their throats at the same time.

Curtis closed his eyes.

Of course they did.

When he opened them again, he wordlessly turned to Eden and conveyed, with nothing but the flattest look imaginable:

"Not helping."

The compressed demon rolled her eyes at him as if she had done nothing wrong.

And perhaps, technically, she hadn’t.

But that was hardly the issue.

What exactly were they doing there in front of these young cadets in the first place?

Ideally, nothing much.

They had merely been called in for questioning because Deputy Officer Curtis Karswell, noble descendant of a long lineage of upstanding vassals, had very nearly punched the living daylights out of one dreadful spawn of House Orell.

If not for Princess Tharkira meeting his fist with her own and laughing loudly about how he had always known how to greet her properly, Tavian would have been injured.

And it wouldn’t have been pretty.

The force behind Curtis’s swing had not been meant as a warning.

It had been meant to end something.

He might have even sent him to the afterlife after he dared utter the most disgusting thing Curtis had ever heard leave Tavian’s mouth.

It had started innocently enough.

Tavian had been trailing behind them, speaking casually as if he had all the time in the world.

"You know," he had said, tone light, almost thoughtful, "it’s funny how things turn out."

Curtis had ignored him. He’d actually been ignoring him since earlier, but the eyesore remained determined, even though Eden hadn’t dignified him with a glance since they left that corridor.

But Tavian just continued.

"I’ve been thinking. About the Harcrests. About how unfortunate everything was."

Curtis’s jaw had tightened.

Tavian’s voice had taken on that falsely reflective quality he liked to use when presenting himself as magnanimous.

"If circumstances were different," he had added lazily, "if Eden were to be with someone like me, I’d be inclined to let bygones be bygones."

He had smiled.

"As the person involved, I feel like it would be much easier to show everyone I’ve moved on from the incident. If it’s like that, then don’t you think those pressuring her family would ease everything?"

A pause.

"I’ve never been one to hold grudges."

Curtis had stopped walking.

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