The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] Chapter 1167: Expressing Intent

But to swear on Killian’s left nut, his current existential crisis hadn’t exactly been intentional, nor was it because he was over there pretending to be some confused adolescent waiting for fate, written interpretation, and the stars to align before admitting he might have a problem.

Wasn’t he already much too old for that?

If anything, he’d already resigned himself the moment he allowed his soul to burn that fateful day, and ever since then, he’d simply accepted that the universe apparently found great joy in meddling with his life.

No...

More than his admittedly flinchy disposition that seemed to rival one particularly unstable live wire, if there were anyone to blame for his current predicament, then his trembling finger could only point toward the bees.

The worker bees, in particular.

Of course, they’d immediately plead not guilty to every accusation thrown their way, likely defending their position to the bitter end as there was admittedly a grain of truth to it—

After all, how exactly were they supposed to know anything about timing, propriety, or even image composition?

So surely, they couldn’t carry all the blame, right?

Even so, despite fully understanding just how absurd all of that sounded, Killian couldn’t shake the feeling that this new form of torture had been designed specifically with him in mind.

Because who, in their right mind, would ever decide that the perfect moment to present Killian Nox—respectable public servant and reasonably hardworking official—with an exceptionally clear view of one Jackson Taylor’s impressively well-defined was right in the middle of a meeting discussing how they officially wanted to deal with certain ambitious parties attempting to misuse his family name?

__

The first time it happened, Killian nearly coughed blood across the conference table.

He hadn’t stepped into that particular meeting room in quite some time after everything that’d happened recently, so when he abruptly doubled over and covered his mouth halfway through the discussion, several people genuinely believed the spreading rumors that he had really developed some sort of grave illness that even modern medicine couldn’t cure.

And considering how he had even taken time away from work...

Honestly, it was starting to sound like a perfectly reasonable conclusion.

"Chief, is everything alright? We can take a moment to—"

One of the attendees spoke up in concern before cutting himself off mid-sentence.

Killian was still coughing, his face flushed such a violent shade of red that anyone looking would’ve assumed he’d suddenly come down with a fever. Only he himself knew the real reason.

Sure, everyone else was currently looking at the projection detailing the entourage that’d entered the Capital together with the Aeruns, complete with the latest estimates regarding the number of suspected spies they’d deployed while he’d been away.

But layered over all of that, sitting squarely inside his own consciousness, was a completely different projection.

One that consisted of a certain redhead enthusiastically constructing the latest iteration of Cece’s enlarged hive together with one equally enthusiastic little Queen bee.

Truthfully, the first time the vision brushed against his consciousness, it’d actually been rather adorable. The little Queen had been fluttering about while directing the worker bees with surprising authority. As for what exactly she was directing them to do, he hadn’t the faintest idea. But she looked so immensely proud and thoroughly invested that it hardly mattered if all she’d really accomplished was assigning them the crucial task of providing moral support while Jax did all the heavy lifting with his usual easy grin.

Honestly, it had been a welcome reprieve from the endless discussion around him, one that briefly distracted him from the increasingly persistent urge to conclude the entire meeting with a simple,

Unfortunately, that peaceful pace of the intermission didn’t last very long and Killian should’ve known better than to be complacent.

See, one moment everything was perfectly suitable for general audiences, and the next, he found himself scrambling to throw a blanket over his own consciousness.

Apparently, deciding that the afternoon had become too warm while hauling oversized hive frames around, Jax casually reached down, grabbed the hem of his shirt, and pulled it clean over his head in one smooth motion.

Just like that.

Damp strands of fiery red hair settled over his forehead as broad shoulders emerged from beneath the fabric, followed by a strong back lightly glistening beneath the afternoon sun. When he finally turned around, only his work pants remained, which honestly did very little to distract from the unnecessarily (exceptionally) defined mounds stretching across his torso.

Granted, Killian also possessed abdominal muscles. He exercised. He understood perfectly well what a healthy physique looked like.

But for reasons he’d very much rather not dwell on, they somehow looked considerably more... interesting on that smiling dingus currently assembling a beehive.

Naturally, he panicked.

Well...

No.

If he were being painfully honest with himself, he looked first.

he panicked.

Yes.

That was a considerably more accurate sequence of events.

Unfortunately, the panic proved dramatic enough that everyone around the conference table immediately noticed, effectively grinding the entire meeting to a halt.

Meanwhile, Killian was internally screaming.

Jax had specifically said he could simply express what he wanted to see.

Except, from everything the eldest son of House Nox could presently tell, expressing intent wasn’t doing a damned thing.

Because someone please explain why, instead of respectfully shifting toward a nearby tree, a scenic mountain, or perhaps a quiet temple where he could begin cleansing his increasingly sinful mind, the worker bee his consciousness was riding on kept drifting closer and closer toward the exact subject he very much did need a better angle of. Every adjustment somehow became even more artistically composed than the last.

He was outside, for heaven’s sake!

More importantly, how exactly does one unsubscribe from this service?

Because Killian could swear he hadn’t knowingly signed up for any of this. At best, he’d simply wanted to make sure those two were still alive and hadn’t accidentally burned anything down together.

Now he was somehow going to have to apologize for involuntary voyeurism.

Just when the Chief of Staff finally convinced himself he’d recovered enough dignity to continue the meeting, he very nearly lost all feeling in his legs.

Jax suddenly looked over.

Apparently noticing the little bee hovering somewhat strangely, the redhead tilted his head before immediately breaking into an even grin.

"Hello! How’s work?"

"!!!"