The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] novel Chapter 943

Chapter 943: A Moving Tale

"You—!"

Doyle stopped himself right there and took a deep breath.

Today was going to be a great day.

A victorious day.

A day where he would reclaim dignity, pride, and possibly student opinion polls.

He didn’t need to panic just because he saw and heard that horrifying blonde with the damning mouth.

Admittedly, he shivered. But that was anger.

Yes.

Definitely anger.

There could easily be a hundred uncles wandering around today because of the polishing competition. That brat shouting "Uncle!" didn’t automatically mean he was referring to him, especially when he was so young and promising.

Also, with the number of students Doyle had brought along, it was entirely reasonable to assume the midget wasn’t calling him out specifically.

Except one Ollie Mylor was most definitely calling him out.

That uncanny glimmer on Doyle’s head made him impossible to miss in a crowd of mechanics. He might as well have been equipped with built-in reflectors.

And really, wouldn’t it be impolite to overlook an important benefactor?

So before Doyle could even begin his carefully rehearsed lament about how DG’s booth had been disgracefully unaccommodating to fellow Royal Military Academy students, the guild’s resident lighthouse decided to illuminate him for everyone to see.

"Wow! It’s really our first benefactor! I didn’t expect to see you here!"

Heads turned.

One by one.

Then all at once.

Every single gaze followed Ollie’s line of sight until it landed squarely on Doyle.

He felt the weight of attention immediately.

But instead of shrinking back, Doyle puffed out his chest.

Good.

Let them look.

He was just about to deliver a perfectly scathing remark, something sharp and righteous that would resonate deeply with the proud nobles standing behind him. Of course that twerp couldn’t have expected him here, especially with how unaccommodating DG had been toward academy students. It was almost insulting—

However, he never got to say it.

The students with him didn’t voice it either, but Doyle was certain they shared his pride. As nobles of the Empire, they wouldn’t want to be treated like just anybody.

And honestly, that sentiment alone was enough.

The Iron Panthers had already accepted that DG would likely be selected for the Astral Cup with their overwhelming popularity. Fine.

But that didn’t mean they couldn’t maneuver for advantage. Student preference still mattered. First-round privileges still mattered, and they were determined to succeed in that department.

If they could position DG as dismissive toward academy students, then the tide would definitely shift in their favor.

Doyle almost snickered at the thought.

Only for Ollie to cut his plans brightly, "I’m sorry, everyone! This is probably a very unique situation, but do you think it would be okay to allow our benefactor to go in?"

"!!!"

Doyle nearly choked.

What?

The crowd didn’t react kindly either.

People who had painstakingly lined up for hours stared in disbelief. Even leaders of the Empire had needed to secure invitations in advance because of DG’s strict adherence to rules.

So what was this now?

But before outrage could fully form, Ollie raised both hands apologetically.

"Ah! I know it sounds weird and unfair, but it’s because of a special reason!" he said sheepishly, the little hair antenna atop his head swaying as if helping him apologize.

The crowd leaned in.

Just how special could this reason possibly be?

Ollie’s eyes shone.

"Because if not for this elder over here, our guild wouldn’t have even been founded. His existence marked the very beginning of DG!"

He said it with such fervor that it looked like beams of light might shoot straight out of him.

As if on cue, a certain dramatic little system provided subtle lighting effects that made the entire declaration feel suspiciously divine.

"!!!"

"Wait! Wait—what?!"

Doyle nearly toppled forward.

What was that idiot saying?

Who exactly was the reason for this stupid guild’s existence?

Him?

Him?

Suddenly, the same murmuring patrons who had been moments away from protesting were now parting like a ceremonial guard.

"Oh! Please, go ahead!"

"You should’ve said so earlier!"

"An elder benefactor!"

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