The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL]-Chapter 884: When Denial Sounds Like Guilt

On a scale from one to catastrophe, where exactly did Elior fall?

Apparently, he was somewhere beyond reasonable measurement, teetering at the edge of what felt like the end of the world. Because his own fiancée had just assumed he was in a relationship with his aide. Of all people.

If he hadn’t felt that sick yesterday, or at least as ill since that day, then today he certainly felt that his time was coming. And it was definitely coming very soon at the rate things were going.

Any second now. Any second at all.

To be fair, the Elven Prince did try to salvage his reputation. This misunderstanding could not be allowed to stand. It would be disastrous in the long run.

He might not know many things about romance, but he understood one very important rule about his partner’s personality. Cheating was absolutely unacceptable. There were no exceptions. None. Zero. It was the kind of boundary carved into stone and then reinforced with emotional artillery. And rightfully so.

He, too, had firm beliefs and tried to be a decent person, at least being faithful in that regard.

So while he was guilty of dishonesty regarding his identity, he most certainly was not guilty of cheating on his partner with someone who occasionally managed to wear both socks on the same foot.

That crime, at least, he wouldn’t accept.

Gods.

"It’s not what you think," Elior, the desperate fiancé, said quickly. One hand was pressed to his temple as if holding his thoughts together through sheer willpower.

"Between him and me, there’s no such relationship. At all."

"We just happened to grow up together!"

Princess Kira frowned.

Not a small frown. A dramatic one. The kind that suggested she was already revising an entire mental outline of a tragic romance novel.

"I see," she said slowly.

Elior felt a flicker of hope. Perhaps she understood.

But the flicker was snuffed as soon as those lips parted.

"It’s already this bad," she continued gravely. "I understand why you have forsaken him already."

"Even I would have also been in denial about the relationship had it been like this." She shook her head, and her red hair flowed just as wistfully.

"What denial?" Elior sputtered. "There’s nothing to deny because nothing exists!"

Kira nodded again, eyes narrowing with growing intensity. "Of course. With how you were left to your own devices, I would have also felt the lack of a strong relationship."

"After all, when relationships reach this level of emotional neglect, it becomes very difficult to recover."

She sighed as if the weight of the world was on her shoulders.

"Our relationship—" Elior stopped himself, took a breath, then tried again. "No, my relationship with this guy isn’t of that nature. He’s my assistant!"

"And he’s really just around because of duty. But without that duty, you better believe he would have run far away to some uncharted planet." The Elven Prince announced, throwing Rahil under the hypothetical yet extremely large hoverbus.

To the credit of the frozen aide, he finally spoke up to corroborate his master’s explanation.

If only his master didn’t sound so high-strung at the moment, then maybe his explanation wouldn’t have sounded like an excuse.

See, it was all about delivery.

So Rahil hurriedly launched into his own explanation. "Your Highness, it’s true. I am only an aide. I grew up alongside my master, but there has never been any relationship between us beyond that. I am merely a trusted confidant."

He was calm. Formal. Measured. Rahil even adjusted his posture and etiquette to match the weight of his own words, as if clarity alone might save them.

Unfortunately, in the eyes of the suddenly distraught Orcish Princess, an entirely different narrative was rapidly assembling itself.

It just clicked. Kira finally understood everything.

No wonder the useless pole couldn’t be of help to the frail beauty.

It was a matter of appearances.

Ah.

Childhood sweethearts who could never truly be. Torn apart by society, shackled by customs, trapped in roles they couldn’t escape. Forced to hide behind titles and professionalism while quietly suffering for one another. Unable to express their true feelings without worrying about consequences, status, or reputation.

How tragic.

How romantic.

She nodded slowly, eyes full of newfound sympathy, then turned toward the alleged aide who had just spoken up so earnestly for his beloved master.

"Ah," she said, lifting a finger as if struck by revelation. "Titles. Semantics. I see. I certainly understand."

Elior felt his soul slip closer to the void.

No. She did not understand.

Worse, he knew her well enough now to recognize that she understood something else entirely.

And the very reason he had found her so fascinating was now the same reason he was actively dying beneath her thoughtful scrutiny.

At first, he had assumed it was because he himself had lived in hiding for so long. Perhaps he was simply out of touch. Perhaps he no longer understood how people thought in the present day.

But after speaking with her, truly speaking with her, he realized the truth.

It wasn’t that he was sheltered.

It was that she was unique.

Unique in how she reasoned. Unique in how she connected ideas. Unique in the way her mind leapt from premise to conclusion without ever checking if the ground in between still existed.

Usually, that made everything feel fresh. Unpredictable. Alive.

Right now, it made his insides twist violently.

And as expected, she continued.

"You see," Princess Kira said thoughtfully, folding her arms, "sometimes people hide behind professional roles when they are afraid to confront their true feelings. But doing so makes it very difficult for the other party to tell the difference between emotional neglect and genuine powerlessness."

Her gaze slid pointedly toward Rahil.

Rahil stiffened like a man facing imminent execution.

"Please," Elior said weakly, his vision blurring just a little. "Do not involve him."

Princess Kira brightened immediately. "See? That’s the spirit!"

Elior’s soul screamed.

She turned fully toward Rahil, smiling with alarming encouragement.

"You, dear customer," she said brightly, gesturing at him, "who happens to be the aide of this fellow customer over here."

She winked.

Winked.

As if she were part of some covert operation to protect a forbidden romance.

"While it may seem that you couldn’t act freely to protect what was important," she continued seriously, "you should reconsider. Even now, your master is thinking of you. He’s protecting you."

Rahil’s brain shut down.

Elior’s hands trembled.

"But," Princess Kira went on, utterly undeterred, "if you wish to keep your position and remain together in the long term, then you must do your part as well. In times like this, it shouldn’t matter what others would say. Picking him up. Tending to him. That would have been perfectly acceptable under such conditions!"

She gestured at Elior, who looked moments away from fainting for reasons unrelated to blood loss.

"He may look frail like this," she added thoughtfully, "and you may wish to protect him like a hen, or perhaps you’re too conscious of propriety. But in an emergency, you must not hesitate!"

She nodded firmly, satisfied with her own logic.

Both men stared at her.

Rahil opened his mouth.

Closed it.

Then decided that, once again, survival required silence.

Princess Kira clapped her hands together decisively.

"This is a communication issue," she declared. "If you continue like this, how could such a bond not grow resentful, even if both parties mean well?"

Elior felt something in his chest finally give.

Not his heart.

His sanity.