The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL]-Chapter 911: Public Service

Well, it probably started with the way he woke up on the wrong side of the bed. He really should have known from that alone that today was going to be something else.

The fact that he had to go to work early in the morning, despite having filed for vacation, was the first sign of his crisis.

Ideally, he would say that seeing Eden’s face first thing in the morning was the main issue, but that was actually part of the original agenda and something that he at least had days to mentally prepare for.

Curtis even managed to survive when she said, "You know this is going to cost you, right?"

With the type of unsanctioned sleuthing he asked her to perform, he just swallowed his losses and accepted the penalty of surrendering a prize he hadn’t even won yet.

What kind of indebtedness was that, really?

But since it could compromise her work, Curtis reluctantly agreed. Only to lose his marbles because the missing leaders started turning up from who knows where.

They were tight-lipped, nonchalant, and one even had the gall to call today’s endeavor a date.

But as a trooper, Curtis survived all of it. Until the bad omen that nearly blinded him came into the picture.

Because really, who would want to witness the hidden Imperial Crown Prince offer sweet nothings to his partner?

He couldn’t even do anything because he didn’t really think it would be appropriate for the people behind him to see whatever was torturing his eyes.

So, as a loyal citizen of the Empire, he had to protect the other citizens from the spectacle that was their Crown Prince kissing their next monarch.

Sure, the innocents definitely had no idea about the young cadet’s identity, and most were too busy looking at the displayed prizes, but it didn’t matter because he was aware and just couldn’t risk it.

Unfortunately, as one could have predicted, retaliation from the interrupted glacier came just as swiftly.

They had been banished.

Not to the arena.

Not to additional drills.

But to something far crueler.

To paint portraits of their dates.

They were there to top up for the arcade, but ended up "politely" encouraged to try another activity.

He still remembered the excited golden eyes of Young Lord Luca, who said that he really hoped more people would try the activity.

The young man looked at them with shining and encouraging eyes. Not a problem. The problem was the predator behind him, whose azure eyes practically glowed in demand. If he and the witch didn’t go and paint each other, then they might as well prepare their caskets. At this rate, they might even have to share.

Ugh.

So off they went.

Curtis stared at the blank canvas in front of him as though it were an insurmountable challenge.

Around them, the atmosphere was far too pleasant. Soft lighting. Neatly arranged easels. Paint palettes laid out with infuriating organization. A handful of similarly encouraged couples scattered about, some laughing, some whispering, some very clearly enjoying themselves as they tried a very new experience.

He, on the other hand, was suffering.

Across from him, Eden sat upright, brush poised between slender fingers, her expression cool and composed as she studied him like a subject under examination.

Curtis glanced at her canvas.

Then paused.

Then squinted.

"Uhh, that..." he started carefully.

Eden didn’t look up immediately. She tilted her head slightly, as if evaluating proportions.

"...Is it supposed to be a potato?" he added.

That made her finally raise her eyes to him.

She assessed him squarely.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

"Don’t flatter yourself," she replied calmly. "Potatoes are too cute to compare. This is clearly you, if you would open your eyes a bit more to look."

Curtis stared at the rounded, vaguely humanoid figure on her canvas. If he actually looked harder, he would likely see limbs that were more than the number he actually had.

"If it were just me," he retorted coolly, turning back to his own work, "I would have shut my eyes if it were possible so there would be no need to see anything distressing."

He dipped his brush into paint with perhaps a little more force than necessary.

Clearly, he could do well without seeing how he was being butchered in that dubious portrait she was making.

He focused on his own canvas instead, determined at the very least not to embarrass himself artistically, especially because Luca was adamant they would be displayed for a time.

Gods.

To his irritation, Eden was far more difficult to capture than expected. The angles of her face were both sharp and soft at the same time. He was aware how confusing that was, but that was the best way to describe her face. Then there was that line of her gaze, when it narrowed, it carried a distinct intensity that couldn’t really translate easily onto fabric.

But why was that even important?

Well, because without capturing that intense gaze she sported on a daily basis, one would simply mistake her for an angel.

Yes. Unfortunately.

And as a public service, he would prefer that others learned from his mistake.

Eden was most definitely no angel.

He was concentrating when he heard it.

A soft mutter.

Tch.

"Idiot. Should have been careful of what you wish for..."

Curtis paused mid-stroke. He did expect a retort, but her words didn’t particularly make sense.

"I guess you really ought not to open your eyes today."

"Huh?"

He glanced up, mildly perplexed. But the witch was no longer looking at him.

She was staring elsewhere.

Odd.

The curious Curtis followed her gaze.

He turned.

And saw the last thing he could have wanted to see today.

Seriously?

For by the same Redemption Booth they had come from earlier, a brunette he really never wanted to see again was laughing a little too loudly.

But as if the heavens wanted to test him today, right by the woman’s side was someone unfortunately familiar.

He really should have known. Only the good die young.