The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] novel Chapter 920

Chapter 920: Down Memory Lane

Too late.

Definitely too late.

Every time someone’s eyes sparkled, Curtis felt like sinking further into the ground.

He had initially assumed they’d ask painful questions about Enzo. About his disappearance. About Tavian’s stupidity and his likely connection to the Federation. Heck, he even assumed they’d want to know exactly what the witch had been planning to do today.

Of course, Curtis’s mind conveniently kept skipping the fact that about half the people inside this booth had probably seen him locking lips with Eden. His mind could be selective like that when it came to protecting what little remained of his sanity.

But much to his surprise, the questions they asked left him completely dumbfounded.

"Since when have you known each other?"

"Have you always fought since you were little?"

"Considering how you fight every day, who would normally apologize?"

Curtis actually shook his head once, as if to check whether his hearing had malfunctioned.

What happened to the inquisition related to national security?

He tried to glance toward the Prince for clarification, but Xavier only sat there with a straight back, looking appropriately menacing if not for the intense shifts in his expression whenever his wife glanced his way.

Just what was happening?

A procession leading to his eventual social death, apparently.

Eden leaned back in her seat as if this were the most casual gathering in the world.

"Since when have we known each other, you ask?"

She snorted softly. "Well, because they came to visit when I was born, I practically saw him the first time I opened my eyes, so there’s that. He was always around. He felt like a fixture in our house. If you moved the furniture, he’d probably still be standing there somewhere."

A few cadets covered their mouths.

"Have you always fought since you were little?" 𝚏𝕣𝐞𝗲𝐰𝕖𝐛𝐧𝕠𝕧𝚎𝚕.𝐜𝚘𝗺

"Of course," Eden replied without hesitation. "He was insufferable when he was younger."

Curtis closed his eyes briefly and wanted to argue about the truth of those words.

"If I had the emotional range of a folding chair, because I was either too open or completely clammed up," she continued, "then he used to argue with a brick wall and walk away convinced he’d actually won."

Several heads turned toward Curtis.

"And as he grew up, he became so rigid that I’m honestly surprised he can still bend his knees."

Princess Tharkira let out an undignified snort.

"Hmm... As for who would apologize..."

Eden tilted her head as if genuinely considering the question.

"When we were younger, we were forced to apologize to each other," she said. "They’d make us wear this ridiculous ’get-along shirt.’ One shirt. Two people. We’d have to stay in it for hours until we looked like we’d resolved whatever conflict we were having."

The cadets blinked.

"Sometimes the arguments were over something as stupid as breathing or existing that morning. Sometimes it was because we were fighting over who got to go with my brother Enzo for training."

She shrugged.

"But honestly, there was barely any need for apologies. The next day would just reset everything. We’d fight again anyway. So what was the point?"

Curtis listened quietly.

Despite himself, he was dragged to walk down memory lane. Back to when arguments ended with ridiculous shirts instead of military review. Back to when everything was simpler and far more straightforward.

But reminiscing didn’t last long.

Because the cadets seemed to be hellbent on expediting his walk with just one offhand comment:

"Wow. They apparently don’t apologize and make up every time they fight, and yet it’s still possible to kiss like that?"

Silence.

Curtis felt his soul attempt to leave his body.

Too late.

Definitely too late.

Curtis’s head snapped toward Eden so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash.

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