The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] Chapter 1172: The Opportunity

See, while everyone else was busy with their own verbal skirmishes throughout the familiar arena, there was one person who genuinely thought he’d managed to hide away for a little while.

Not that he’d run off on his own accord, of course.

The only reason Owen Mylor wasn’t with the rest of the family was because the suddenly responsible young man had been asked to see his extremely nervous instructors before returning to sit with his parents. Apparently, they wanted to give him one last pep talk before the examination began, though who actually needed the encouragement between them was a question worth asking.

Sure, Owen had been nervous.

But after talking with Luca and Kyle, who explained that all he really had to do was sit inside the mecha and honestly report how it felt to pilot, an enormous weight had lifted from his shoulders. Most people probably would’ve asked for more details, but Owen was a carefree Mylor through and through. Simply hearing that there wasn’t any reason to pressure himself and that he didn’t have to do much was enough.

By the time he reached his instructors, he somehow ended up being the calmest person in the room.

His professors, meanwhile, looked ready to faint.

After exchanging only a few words with their unexpectedly relaxed student, they hurriedly sent him on his way, worried that if they stayed together any longer, their own anxiety might somehow rub off on the kid.

So everything should’ve been smooth sailing after that.

Unfortunately, one small complication got in the way.

Several student media organizations had been roaming around the venue looking for interesting people to interview, and short of Ollie Mylor himself, Owen currently ranked surprisingly high on everyone’s list.

That was how he found himself hiding inside the men’s restroom, patiently waiting for the reporters to lose interest.

Looking back on it, though, it probably would’ve been better to take his chances with the student journalists than end up trapped inside with the last two people he wanted to meet.

Perfectly polished designer boots shifted lightly across the tiled floor.

Above them were immaculate trousers without the slightest wrinkle, followed by tailored coats embroidered with intricate house crests that probably cost more than some people’s homes. And finally came two flawless faces wearing expressions that somehow managed to combine narrow-eyed calculation with an almost unnaturally pleasant warmth.

Owen wasn’t exactly living under a rock.

Unfortunately, he recognized them immediately.

The Luxastra twins.

Out of the thousands of people attending today’s examination, what were the actual odds he’d run into those two of all people?

Especially when they looked like the sort who’d never willingly set foot inside a public restroom unless their lives genuinely depended on it.

Now, Owen Mylor was many things.

He was enthusiastic, determined, and generally the sort of person who weathered life’s ups and downs with a smile.

But one thing he definitely wasn’t...

Was stupid.

Or gullible.

Sure, he’d inherited plenty of the Mylor family’s brawn and was probably destined for many remarkable things, maybe not exactly higher education, but nonetheless. Even so, he possessed more than enough common sense to recognize that the twins’ appearance here couldn’t possibly be a coincidence.

This had all the markings of a trap.

They weren’t actually planning to murder him inside a restroom stall...

Right?

Fortunately, Owen wasn’t wrong for immediately suspecting they had an agenda.

The only thing he failed to account for was one unfortunate hereditary Mylor trait.

For all their business acumen, practical instincts, and street smarts, the family had a spectacular tendency to overlook one particularly infamous variety of trap.

The honey trap.

Though between the giant Mylor and the twin leafy greens before him, it would be good to ask who would be the first to get frustrated, especially after realizing what kind of person they’ve actually chosen to deal with.

__

See, that humiliating walk back to their temporary lodgings after being treated like dirt by the ever-arrogant Killian Nox had forced the Aerun twins to reevaluate their plans.

Every word of consolation from the devoted crowd still following them only reminded them of their failure.

Rather than making them feel better, it simply rubbed salt into the wound.

By the time they finally managed to shake off the bulk of their supporters and retreat somewhere private, both brothers were already furious enough that antlers practically seemed ready to sprout from their heads.

Cyrion was the first to snap.

"Can you believe him?" he practically screeched, pacing the room before throwing both hands into the air. "The audacity!"

He turned sharply toward his brother.

"How dare he speak to us like that just because he’s become a little passable? Rian, don’t tell me we’re actually going to let this go. We can’t seriously slink away after that like some joke!"

He tugged irritably at his hair while Lyrian remained standing by the table, fingers drumming against its polished surface with measured taps. Unlike his brother, there wasn’t much anger on his face.

Only calculation.

"Rion."

Lyrian didn’t even look up.

"Sit down."

"Seriously?" Cyrion stared at him in disbelief. "You’re really letting him get away with that?"

"There’d be no point in exploding now."

Lyrian finally lifted his gaze.

"We already knew from the beginning that Killian Nox was unusually skittish. We prepared for resistance."

"But that wasn’t resistance!" Cyrion protested. "No one’s ever treated me like that before! I’m so angry I swear I’ll make him regret it."

"I know."

Lyrian’s answer came calmly.

"But to do that, we’d first need a proper opportunity."

He leaned back slightly.

"And right now, it doesn’t look like he’ll willingly give us one."

Cyrion frowned.

"Then what are we supposed to do?"

"Well..." Lyrian’s lips slowly curved upward. "His world has become considerably bigger than before, hasn’t it?"

"Huh?"

"What do you mean?"

"Think about it."

Lyrian folded his arms.

"It’s always easier to keep someone’s attention when you’re the only one occupying their world. Once that world becomes crowded, however, people begin believing they have choices."

Cyrion nodded slowly.

"Yes...?"

"So if we can’t reach Killian directly..." Lyrian continued, "then we’ll simply create a world where avoiding us becomes impossible."

His smile deepened.

"If the people around him all support us, then sooner or later, he’ll have no choice but to deal with us."

Realization gradually spread across Cyrion’s face.

"Oh..."

His eyes brightened.

"Well, that’s true... but how are we supposed to do that?"

"Simple."

Lyrian raised one perfectly manicured brow.

"We just need the proper introduction."

Understanding finally dawned.

A grin spread across Cyrion’s face as he looked at his brother with renewed admiration.

Sure enough, his brilliant older brother had already thought several steps ahead.

And, as Lyrian had said, it was always easier to begin with the more impressionable ones.