The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] Chapter 1177: Front-Row Seat

From the stands, Kyle wore an easygoing smirk as he waved at his little star, who looked visibly touched by the promise of food and affection waiting for him once the examination was over.

In hindsight, he had briefly questioned whether wearing the apron had been a step too far. But considering the planet hadn’t imploded after the stunt he’d just pulled, he decided it had been well worth it after seeing how quickly his initially anxious mop had brightened.

Now all Kyle had to do was pretend not to notice the questioning look his own superior kept sending his way.

Honestly, Xavier had no right to judge, not when he himself carried around an even more scandalous

But before they could even jab at each other, everyone noticed Jax and Killian finally returning, with Owen walking just ahead of them, his expression seemingly changing with every step.

"...?"

__

However, it wasn’t just those already seated who were confused.

The instant Killian and Jax took in the scene after reaching their designated area, the atmosphere around their group froze.

There was Kyle.

Still hopelessly wearing a kitchen apron, thankfully on top of actual clothes.

Then there was Luca, half-standing and half-sitting beside Xavier, the two of them holding up that completely indescribable signboard for the entire arena to admire.

Nobody spoke.

Kyle looked at Killian.

Xavier looked at Killian.

Killian looked back at them.

Then, in perfect unspoken coordination, Kyle and Xavier slowly raised their brows.

The message couldn’t have been clearer.

Killian immediately decided silence was the wiser option.

Especially after following their gaze and realizing they were both pointedly looking at the hand Jax had unconsciously and leisurely clung around his waist.

"..."

Right.

Perhaps today wasn’t the day to criticize anyone else’s life choices.

Unfortunately, one golden-eyed cadet had once again failed to receive the silent memo.

Still enthusiastically waving both arms at Ollie, he finally noticed the newcomers and immediately brightened.

"Oh! You’re all finally back!" he said happily. "Where’d you all go? You almost missed the opening!"

Surprisingly—or maybe not—Owen, who seemed to be the unilateral victim, reacted as though he’d just been accused of a serious crime.

The giant instantly threw both hands into the air.

"The restroom!" he blurted out. "I didn’t do anything!"

"Eh?"

Everyone turned to look at him, thoroughly confused by both the answer and the alarming amount of innocence packed into that declaration.

Growing worried, Luca realized Owen sounded oddly defensive, tilted his head, and glanced toward the newcomers making their way to their seats.

"Is something wrong with the restroom?" he asked innocently, imagining the most random situations.

The much taller blond shook his head as fast as he could, not wanting to tattle when so many people seemed invested in their conversation.

Jax, who had just settled into the row before his other guildmates, turned to give his account after seeing Owen’s reaction.

"Hmm... I don’t think so," he replied easily. "Nothing about the actual restroom seemed strange to me."

Luca blinked.

"Oh, well..." he said. "I only asked because Big Brother Killian looks unusually feverish."

Almost immediately, everyone’s attention shifted toward the Chief of Staff.

Unfortunately for him, his face had only just begun returning to its normal color.

Now, after Luca’s completely uncalled for observation, the heat he really didn’t need in that moment rushed right back.

His ears burned.

His neck followed.

Even his cheeks betrayed him, flushing so thoroughly that he genuinely looked as though he might’ve come down with a fever.

"..."

"..."

Times like that, he genuinely wondered why the ground wouldn’t just open. Just once.

But then suddenly—

With a long-suffering sigh, and his eyes still closed as if to collect himself, Killian raised a hand without so much as glancing in Jax’s direction and planted it squarely against the redhead’s face, stopping the inevitable attempt to lean closer before it even began.

It happened so quickly and so naturally that even he seemed unaware he’d done it.

The redhead blinked behind the hand covering his eyes.

Meanwhile, Killian straightened his back, forcing the sort of professional smile that would’ve been perfectly convincing had the rest of him not been visibly overheating.

"I’m fine," he said smoothly. "It’s just a little warm after walking around all morning."

"...?"

Then, before anyone could question him further, the older Nox immediately turned to Luca.

"I’ll hold the bottom end of the sign up."

Several people exchanged knowing looks. In fact, one Orc Princess who had been eerily silent just a few seats over had been restrained moments ago for fear of creating an unintended scene. But because her mouth had been sealed, her ears and eyes were even sharper than usual.

At this point, only Luca looked genuinely delighted.

He simply assumed the ever-so-responsible Killian wanted to help cheer for Ollie.

What a really nice brother-in-law he was!

Clearly with ulterior and self-saving intentions, said Killian accepted the giant signboard with far more gratitude than anyone realized. Raising one corner high enough to shield himself, he quietly disappeared beneath the aggressively heartfelt creation just as another wave of cheers swept through the arena.

The introductions had begun.

Master Mechanic Colton’s name echoed throughout the stadium first, followed by one prestigious judge after another as thunderous applause rolled across the stands.

Killian remained perfectly content hidden beneath the world’s largest artistic crime scene.

Then, just as he thought he’d found a temporary refuge, the person beside him began clapping.

Good. Participate well, he thought.

But not even a moment later, the supposed clapper casually ducked underneath the same intentionally floppy sign.

The cramped little space he’d deliberately made for himself instantly became much smaller.

Killian flinched, practically itching to ask, "What? What now?"

But the redhead only tilted his head before shamelessly leaning in.

"...!"

The gap between them disappeared so quickly that Killian’s mind momentarily scrambled. He’d already begun to convince himself that this had to be another of Jax’s odd habits. Maybe the redhead genuinely couldn’t judge distances properly. Maybe he needed glasses. Maybe—

Every hastily manufactured explanation scattered the instant his heartbeat stumbled.

His mind fell silent.

The world seemed to shrink until all he could see was the steadily approaching face and the complete absence of hesitation behind it.

But then, just as Killian’s eyes had finally adjusted to the incoming collision, Jax simply dipped a shoulder, bent slightly to account for their height difference, and rested his head comfortably against Killian’s shoulder instead.

Silence.

"..."

"..."

Every muscle in the Chief of Staff’s body stiffened.

But to think it wasn’t because that rascal had laid his head on his shoulder, but because he was shocked to personally feel a pang of disappointment the moment the face turned away.

What the hell.

A thin spiritual barrier quietly spread around them, muffling the deafening cheers of the stadium into a distant hum.

"What are you up to this time?" Killian had to ask for the sake of his sanity.

"Nothing much," Jax easily replied.

"I just saw that same expression again, and I wanted to see it up close."

The eldest Nox heir frowned.

"Same expression? What are you talking about?"

Jax, whose head had been lowered, briefly studied the narrow patch of ground visible beneath the signboard that served as a rigid veil over their heads before lifting his gaze to Killian.

"That one."

He reached up and gently pressed a finger between Killian’s brows, smoothing away the crease.

"It’s the same expression you make when it’s actually okay to kiss."

The young official stared at the audacious tank dumbfoundedly.

What the actual hell?

Since when was there an expression like that?

More importantly, since when did have an expression like that?

But before he could protest something so completely impossible, Jax lowered his head again, his gaze settling back on the floor beneath the sign.

"But don’t worry," he said quietly. "I won’t do anything unless you actually tell me it’s okay. I’ll behave."

The practically headless chicken who’d been running around since morning didn’t even know where to begin with that statement.

Which word should he even assess first?

Then he heard it.

A small sniffle.

Killian glanced down.

Leaning back against his seat, Killian could only see part of Jax’s face. For some inexplicable reason, that only made him more restless.

He clicked his tongue.

"Of all times," he muttered under his breath, "you, of all people, decide to practice self-control now. Tch."

Jax, seemingly not expecting to hear something like that, blinked.

Killian looked away again, fixing his gaze on nothing more than the underside of Luca’s aggressively sincere signboard.

Then, before he could talk himself out of it, his free hand swiftly reached across.

Not toward the sign.

But toward Jax.

His fingertips grazed the redhead’s resting hand before slipping over it, slowly weaving into a tentative hold.

This time it was the ever-so-animated cadet who was caught off guard.

But as if recovering in record time, he immediately looked up at Killian, genuine surprise openly written across his face.

Killian refused to meet his eyes.

"What?" he muttered. "Chickening out?"

Jax stared at him for a long moment.

Then his entire face lit up.

The stinking grin spreading across it looked exactly like that of an enormous pup that had just been given everything he wanted.

Killian rolled his eyes.

Mostly at himself.

With a quiet sigh, he shifted his posture, crossed one leg over the other, and threaded his fingers through Jax’s.

Earlier, they had merely been holding hands.

Now their fingers were fully intertwined.

Jax’s smile somehow grew even brighter.

He gently pulled their joined hands onto his lap, and Killian simply let him, shaking his head with quiet resignation.

If anyone had looked beneath that atrocious signboard, they probably would’ve sworn pink bubbles were floating underneath it.

Good and great, right?

But how come, out of all the people who could’ve had a front-row seat to it, that person had to be one innocent Owen Mylor?!

Sure, he hadn’t heard a single word because of what had to be a spiritual barrier.

But unless someone expected him to gouge out his own eyes, there was simply no way he could’ve missed those intertwined hands!