The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] novel Chapter 437

Chapter 437: Declaration

Kyle took a moment to collect himself. He had to. Otherwise, he was pretty sure he’d combust from the whiplash of the last five minutes.

He took a deep breath, then asked carefully, "So...just to be clear...is the gift and message your main way of deciding if someone’s pursuing you?"

Ollie shook his head, looking mildly bewildered.

"No, of course not!" he huffed. "My mom said sometimes gifts don’t work. You have to try other methods."

"Other methods?"

"Yeah!" Ollie nodded. "Because, get this, according to my mom, my pop didn’t notice anything. So my mom nearly hogtied him so he’d finally open his eyes!" He said, though he wasn’t even sure how it helped his mom at the time, but according to her, it did.

"...Hogtied," Kyle repeated slowly.

Ollie nodded with the solemnity of someone detailing a legendary war tale. "Pop thought she was just being nice—even after she sent him gifts and dismantled an entire crime organization that was going after him."

The adjutant sat there, stunned. "And he didn’t figure it out?"

"Nope! Not even after she brought his favorite material, fixed his gear, and kicked his rival in the face. It took her physically sitting him down and going, ’I like you. You idiot,’ before Pop’s two brain cells made the connection."

"Mom’s words." He pointed out belatedly.

There was a moment of silence.

Kyle just...stared.

Somehow, everything made sense now.

The unshakable confidence. The weird logic jumps. The heartfelt fear over mysterious kindness.

It was hereditary.

"...It runs in the family," Kyle muttered, finally understanding the true scale of what he was dealing with.

Ollie, unaware of this spiritual revelation, perked up. "But that’s why I’m prepared! My mom said it’s our job to be aware!"

Kyle slowly turned to him. "Aware of what?"

"Of everything." Ollie gestured wildly around them. "That’s why I read, Kyle. Books! All the time! Especially the romance ones! Because my mom scolded everyone else in the family for being blind and insensitive and not recognizing effort!"

"Especially after my parents kept getting called by the school because of my older siblings!"

Kyle vaguely remembered the Marquise once muttering something similar.

And now, sitting here, watching her son earnestly list off gift-giving criteria, with perfect recall of dialogue from fictional love confessions—

The unsettled giant realized something horrifying.

He was fighting a genetically encoded level of denseness.

And he was losing.

He was trying to keep up. He really was. But the more Ollie talked, the more he felt like he needed subtitles and a full investigative team.

Still, he persisted.

"Okay. Then what’s the difference between this gesture—" Kyle pointed toward the now infamous gift box still sitting nearby, "—and the ones your friends give you all the time?"

Ollie blinked. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, you said this box means someone’s pursuing you. Right? Then what about the gestures your friends make? For one, Luca gives you more than this. Why not him?"

"Oh." The mop blinked again. "But isn’t that because friends are family you choose?"

"Family," Kyle echoed.

"Yeah. So, isn’t it normal to share?" Ollie tilted his head, like he was genuinely confused by the question.

Kyle rubbed his temples.

"Okay, but..." he tried again, gently. "If someone from your ’family’ started showing more effort. I mean—extra effort. Is it possible to consider them as something more than just...a friend turned family?"

Ollie froze.

Like a virtual pod forced to run an update in the middle of a game.

Then slowly, he looked up, eyes serious.

"...Of course," he said at last, after replaying his mother’s words over and over. "Because I should at least try to recognize when someone’s making an effort."

"Why?"

"Because being left in limbo hurts."

"Also, because time is money! If it’s really impossible, then it is better not to waste someone’s time and effort." He chirped.

Kyle’s heart skipped as he sat still.