The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] novel Chapter 919

Chapter 919: Under Review

Well, Xavier internally scoffed at the irony because if someone dared to say the same thing about his wife, then he probably would have sent the person to the afterlife, too. Covertly at the least. So that Luca wouldn’t have to see such a disgusting sight.

Tch.

Unfortunately for him, he had larger problems.

To his side, said little wife was practically clutching at his cuffs, golden eyes shimmering with distress as though someone was just about to announce the end of the world.

Technically, nothing had happened.

No injuries.

No official report.

And it would have been counterproductive to impose standard military punishment on what had, by the grace of Princess Tharkira’s laughter, been rebranded as a proper orcish greeting.

So instead, Xavier decided on something more appropriate.

"Forfeiture of two-thirds pay per month for three months," he announced calmly. "And in replacement for confinement, as well as in accordance with the rules of this establishment, prepare to be interrogated by a greatly affected party."

"!!!"

Curtis and Eden both looked up at the same time.

They couldn’t believe they were being let off just like that.

Under normal circumstances, a fistfight might have escaped formal reprimand. Pride had a way of smoothing over bruised egos when no concrete evidence was left behind.

But this?

This had happened under the direct gaze of members of the Imperial family.

In a public venue.

With civilians.

With cadets.

With witnesses.

With, quite frankly, terrible timing.

With Xavier’s personality, Curtis had fully expected three months at the mines.

Normally, it might have even resulted in a demotion or something even worse, had his punch actually landed. But everyone knew better than to demote Curtis.

No.

Because that would have been a gift to an adjutant perpetually hanging by a thread. He would have, in fact, treated it as a major bonus.

But the mines?

Yes.

That would have been fitting.

Instead, they received a pay deduction and an interrogation.

But before they could thank the Prince for his leniency, the two senior officers had to swallow both their shock and the small smile threatening to break across Eden’s face. Because, for some inexplicable reason, Young Lord Luca Kyros—the undeclared Crown Princess—looked as though he had just been handed a death sentence.

With two-thirds of their pay docked for three whole months, they might as well have been condemned in the eyes of one certified money-grubber.

The golden-eyed cadet’s expression trembled as though the Imperial Treasury itself had been set ablaze.

He even had to be consoled by his own husband.

Eden’s ears twitched faintly because she could have sworn she heard the Crown Prince mutter under his breath, without the courtesy of a spiritual barrier:

"They may not look it, but they’re very rich. They would definitely survive. And if they don’t, then they’d better share finances to tide each other over."

He didn’t bother hiding the pointed look he directed at both Eden and Curtis afterward, as if daring either of them to test his patience further.

Well, that didn’t calm DG’s guild leader.

If anything, it made his eyes tremble harder.

But then Young Lord Oliver Mylor suddenly stood up, rushed toward his distressed friend, and whispered loudly enough for the entire room to hear:

"Brother, it’s all good. I read that bonding over adversity counts as a shared experience. It’s good for couples."

It was then that it hit Curtis.

Perhaps being sent to the mines would have been a better punishment.

At least in that case, he wouldn’t have ended up being interrogated by this clearly dubious "greatly affected party."

"...!"

__

"Ahem."

"Deputy Officer Curtis, please enlighten us about this excerpt where you allegedly said, ’You have the emotional range of a folding chair.’"

The words echoed across the room, and Curtis was certain the Prince made a strangled noise when Princess Kira even changed her tone to reenact that very distant past, which now resurfaced as part of his dark history.

Without even looking, the poor Deputy Officer—who might as well have had a spotlight shining directly on him in this makeshift interrogation room—could feel the way the woman with said emotional range shifted in her seat.

Well, unbeknownst to the Deputy Officer, he was the threat.

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