The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL]-Chapter 321: Join

Ever had that itch on your nose coupled with the feeling of your eyes stinging, yet it stops right there?

You managed to stop it, holding it off so it never falls. And you say it stops because you’re strong and can handle your emotions.

Or so you think.

Just like Luca, who was in the same exact position, only to be surprised by a refreshing palm over his eyes.

The darkness came out of nowhere.

Xavier didn’t say a word. He didn’t offer comfort in the form of words or speeches. He simply raised his hand and covered Luca’s eyes with his palm, like a shield.

And that was all it took.

The pressure that had been sitting right behind Luca’s lashes—the burn, the heat, the ache—gave way.

The first tear fell.

Then another.

And it couldn’t be stopped.

The tears fell like a dam breaking, and yet, Luca remained silent as a mouse.

Not a single sob escaped. No gasp. No wail.

Just tears—hot, endless, and soundless—as they streamed down his cheeks and soaked into Xavier’s palm. He trembled in the prince’s arms, his breath hitching only faintly, as if even now, he was trying not to be a burden.

And from across them, Duchess Amelia watched—helpless.

Her heart broke with every silent tear her son shed.

Because even now, even after everything he’d told them, he still cried quietly, as if alone. Like he didn’t expect to be comforted. Like he didn’t even know how to be.

She didn’t move.

Couldn’t.

Because deep inside, something twisted hard in her chest as she asked herself—

Did she even have the right to comfort him?

She hadn’t been there.

She hadn’t protected him.

She hadn’t known.

So how could she possibly act like she deserved to touch this boy, no, this young man, who had suffered all that and still managed to sit there like it was normal?

She was his mother.

But that title felt so hollow now.

Like a nameplate she no longer earned.

Her hand twitched at her side, unsure. Her mouth parted, but she couldn’t speak.

And Xavier, still cradling Luca, noticed.

He caught that flicker of grief in her eyes. The panic. The guilt. The deep, soul-carving ache of a mother who didn’t know how to reach her own child.

He wasn’t the most emotionally expressive man. But he knew what it meant to want to hold someone and not be allowed.

He knew what a mother’s embrace could do, something that parents could give.

So he gently adjusted his hold, kissed the top of Luca’s head, and nodded at Amelia.

Go on.

You’re allowed.

The duchess’s eyes widened, startled. Her lips trembled. She almost looked like she might run, but Xavier gave her another small, steady nod.

So she inched forward.

Ever so carefully.

Softly, like she was afraid of startling the person before her. freёnovelkiss.com

And when she knelt in front of them, she didn’t say a word.

She simply reached out—with hands that had once wielded blades, now trembling like leaves in a storm—and opened her arms.

Luca blinked, confused by the sudden shift.

And when he squinted from the sudden disappearance of that hand and saw her, his mother, face stricken with emotion, hands outstretched toward him as if begging him to let her in—

His throat clenched, and something inside Luca shattered.

There was nothing composed about her now, but most of all, she didn’t look distant.

His eyes flew wide, breath catching with a noise that cracked on its way out of his throat.

And when Xavier slowly let go, urging Luca to slide from his lap into her arms...

That was when the dam didn’t just break.

It burst.

The sound tore out of him—raw and gasping, a broken sob wrenched straight from his chest.

He collapsed into her, arms flinging around her waist, clutching her like he’d been holding back for years.

And he wept.

He bawled—ugly, wrenching sobs that echoed down the tunnel walls like a long-overdue confession of pain.

He gasped for breath in between every sob, burying his face in her shoulder as though trying to disappear there.

Luca sobbed, and he couldn’t stop. But this time, he didn’t even try to.

Because this was the cry for every moment he had suffered alone.

And it felt like letting go.

And Amelia?

She wrapped her arms around him like she could hold the whole world together.

She pressed her cheek to his hair, eyes squeezed shut, letting the tears fall freely now.

There was no strength in her voice—no clever words. No promises.

Just a mother holding her son like he was the most precious thing she had nearly lost.

Almost did, if not for this opportunity.

So if this was the only way she could be forgiven, and the only way she could manage to forgive herself, then she would give it her all.

Without hesitation.

Without pause.

She’ll atone for the rest of her life if he lets her.

Xavier watched this reunion from the side before deciding to step back.

Quietly. Almost automatically.

He understood what this meant for the mother and child and wanted to give them space.

Or at least he tried to.

He had just taken one full step when a hand reached out and caught his sleeve.

He looked down, surprised, but not startled.

Duchess Amelia didn’t say anything at first. She was still holding Luca tightly, her son hiccupping in her embrace like a soggy little dumpling, face red and puffy and full of relief.

She looked up at Xavier.

And for the first time since he’d met her, she didn’t look like a warrior—she looked like a mother.

A mother who’d realized, almost a moment too late, that she had so much to learn.

"I’ve been thinking about this," she said softly, voice low so as not to disturb the trembling boy in her arms. "And I...I know I wasn’t there."

The ghostly prince blinked.

She continued.

"At first, it bothered me," she admitted, almost wincing. "This bond. The spiritual pull. This...you."

That part made Luca hiccup in her arms and squeeze his eyes shut.

"But after all this," she said, "there’s no doubt in my mind. I suck at being a mother. Right now, I really do."

Xavier, even considering everything, looked like he wanted to protest, but she lifted a hand to stop him.

"It’s true. And I still have a lot of questions. Still have things I want to know. Still have opinions I’ll likely throw out there even when you don’t want them."

There was a beat.

Then she looked at him, not as a duchess, not as an adult, but as Luca’s mother.

"But I see it now."

"Having you here...has been good for him. You’ve helped him in ways I couldn’t. So...this apology—" she looked between them, "—is for both of you."

Luca blinked up at her, wide-eyed, a little confused and still hiccupping. "H-huh?"

"I’m sorry I wasn’t enough, sweetheart."

Luca’s breath caught again.

"And both of you," she added, "I know this is asking a lot. But if you’re willing...would it be alright if I joined this life you’ve built together? If I try to be part of the better memories moving forward?"

Xavier didn’t speak immediately.

Luca, however, gasped—a real, sharp gasp—then immediately let out a very loud hiccup that echoed embarrassingly off the tunnel walls.

His eyes, already watery, widened with a gleam so bright it could outshine half the pocket suns in their sector.

"M-mom," he hiccuped again, voice a little shrill, "Papa said you kept on looking. He said you tried your best..."

The room went still.

Xavier stared.

"And I appreciate that. I—I would also like to have my mom back."

"The kids always say that moms smell good, that they smell the best..."

"I think they’re right. Now, even I know they’re right. You smell like wild flowers, I like it..." Luca buried his face in her collar again like a bashful puppy, flushed to the tips of his ears.

"So, if you don’t mind, I also want to keep you," he said softly, voice muffled, yet his eyes sparkled.

Clear and bright.

And at one point, the duchess would understand just why their house was filled with those slightly questionable statues.

For even now, just after seeing those eyes, she wanted to roll on those flowers.

Just in case.