The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL]-Chapter 478: The Difference

It was a mutual craving.

If anything, Kyle might have gone further than craving and was well into malnutrition, considering how long he’d actually held out with his bottled feelings. So it was understandable that Kyle was savoring everything.

He was still enjoying Ollie’s soft hair and tight hug when someone decided to rain on his parade.

Because just as Kyle shifted, intending to leave with Ollie, a voice cut through the air like a cold slap.

"Ollie!"

Not Kyle.

But Ollie.

Hmm.

It was unfortunate. But he figured he would eventually have to deal with this glaring problem soon enough: Lyka Vela.

Kyle’s brow rose, and the blonde—who had apparently forgotten people existed—turned toward the source, blinking.

Only then did he register the stormy expression on Lyka’s face.

The poised young lady had lost all trace of cool composure. Her lip trembled with indignation. Her perfectly styled hair seemed to frizz with disbelief.

Because she could not believe the scene before her.

She had staked everything on poise, precision, and performance. And yet that bumbling, wailing, shirt-stealing mess of a man had somehow ended up being held like he was the prize while she’d been relegated as someone utterly irrelevant in the last three minutes.

Un-fucking-thinkable.

And so she snapped.

"Do you not have any pride as a man? Clinging to someone like that—crying in front of everyone?"

The crowd collectively gasped. A few even flinched. That was below the belt.

But surprisingly, the clinging beast just blinked up at her.

He looked genuinely confused. "What do tears and being tired have to do with pride?"

He straightened up slightly in Kyle’s arms, voice growing steadier. "I am a man, yes. But even manly men need love and care, too."

The people around them started murmuring.

Ollie continued, "Since when do men lose their pride for being tired after trying their best?"

Lyka screeched, "Some man you are! Men don’t act like that!"

Ollie looked at her as if she’d grown a second head.

"Sure," he said, "My mom once told me that emotionally unavailable men don’t cry. So if you want your man to be emotionally constipated, cool, that’s on you. But that’s not me."

He crossed his arms around Kyle’s neck with a sniff. "I’m a manly man in touch with my feelings."

The gasps that followed weren’t just dramatic—they were theatrical.

Lyka’s face twisted. "You’re just saying all this to make excuses for not being good enough! You’re trying to make it easier to cry again when you realize you’re not needed!"

Every onlooker took a collective mental step back.

She had a death wish.

Because the human carrier was now repositioning himself, slowly, deliberately—as if ready to address her directly.

Kyle tilted his head, looking at Lyka with mild curiosity, like she was a strange bug under a glass.

"Is that what you were hoping for? To be needed?"

The question was simple, but it landed like a brick. Lyka looked taken aback, her composure cracking. "Of course! Isn’t that what everyone wants? To be indispensable?"

Ollie also looked confused, and with honest curiosity muttered—loud enough for anyone with enhanced hearing to catch—"Huh? No. Because what could people possibly need from me?"

Kyle turned to him with the faintest smile. "You’re right. I don’t need you."

The words stunned Ollie. It was one thing to say that about himself—he did that often enough. But hearing Kyle say it? Out loud? It made his puffed cheeks falter.

But Lyka’s smug expression didn’t get the chance to settle in.

Kyle continued, "I may not need him. But I want him. Want him more than I’ve wanted anything or anyone in a very long time."

That shut everything down. Even the buzzing crowd froze.

Lyka stammered, "But isn’t that just semantics? Obviously, people end up wanting what they need!"

Kyle let out a small laugh. "Funny. People seek nutrients because we need to survive, but we didn’t stop at just food, didn’t we? Pretty sure you had some nutrient solutions within the last week. All because we didn’t want to be prisoners to ’need.’"

He took a step forward, his tone razor-sharp.

"You should know that. You’re good at history, right? Then you’d know how hard humans fought to have alternatives—to break free from the shackles of necessity."

"The difference," he said, "is in the ability to choose."

"And the beauty of wanting," Kyle said clearly, "is that it, in itself, is a choice. And the only time people settle for something else is when they can’t actually have what they really want."

"So being forced to be with someone other than him would just mean I’ve had to settle for a substitute."

The delivery was brutal in its finality.

Somewhere in the crowd, Jax was about to let out a low whistle if not for their Captain’s death glare.

Lyka looked like she might burst. Her eyes burned, her throat visibly moved as if she were swallowing nails because his words were scathing, especially for her, whose world had been him for years.

It was as if her future was cracking, and it wasn’t simply chipping; it was being torn apart. And the woman felt like escaping wouldn’t be possible. That he’d probably write his words if she had pretended to be deaf.

But her blackened heart, which firmly believed that her sacrifices couldn’t be for nothing, just couldn’t give up. So she tried her last card.

"You say that now, but how about your duties? Don’t you think you’re the only one with wants?! Do you honestly think your family would accept someone like him?! Or are you just that selfish?"

The crowd stiffened. Understandably so.

The outburst came out of nowhere. Or maybe out of desperation.

But Kyle only clicked his tongue at this. And for some reason, Ollie, still in his arms, shuddered at the sound.

"Lady Vela," Kyle said calmly, "You seem to be extremely mistaken about the House of Nox."

"To stand where we do, we must be competent. And for us, being competent means being the best at our role. So the moment I start needing someone to mirror me would be the start of my failure."

"So, for your sake, understand this: I don’t need him to be the best. I just want him to be himself."

The silence that followed wasn’t peaceful. It was suffocating.

Lyka’s lips parted, but no words came out. Not this time.

She stood there, a trembling statue in a battlefield she thought she could control. Her eyes, once sharp, looked lost—confused—as if trying to rewrite everything she believed in, only to find there was nothing left.

Because she had bet everything on being what was needed.

But in front of her stood someone who was wanted.

Not for what he could do. But for who he was.

The crowd knew it too.

Whispers rippled through the gathered students. Some wide-eyed. Some muttering, "Damn." One person even applauded before quickly pretending to cough.

A few even looked at Ollie like he was glowing.

And Ollie—the wide-eyed blonde—blushed so hard Kyle feared his blonde head would turn pink.

Still, he clung tighter to Kyle, like the words had given him permission to exist.

As for Lyka, she took a single step back.

Then another.

And another.

Until she turned and ran away. No retort. No rebuttal. Just the sound of her escape.

Finally, they were able to walk out of the hall.

And by the door—like a scene from a drama’s final act—stood Luca, eyes shimmering with stars.

"That was amazing," he said breathlessly. "D-29 and I have only ever seen scenes like that in dramas, but it’s even more incredible live!"

Ollie looked like he was about to stammer something in embarrassment, but Luca wasn’t done. He turned to Kyle, practically vibrating with curiosity.

"Was all of that true? And where did you learn how to say cool things like that? Can you teach me?" he asked, flushing slightly.

Kyle blinked. Thought for a moment.

Then said, "No, I was partly lying."

Both Luca and Ollie gasped.

Ollie looked personally betrayed. He opened his mouth—probably to threaten violence with his tiny fists—but Kyle was faster.

"I still need something from him," he said.

The drama paused. Suspense hung in the air.

Kyle leaned in, tone maddeningly soft.

"I need to hear him say he likes me, too."

Ollie made a noise.

A high-pitched, muffled poof of existential overload.

He stopped functioning.

Meanwhile, Xavier, who had appeared just in time, had to catch and lift his little wife, who had been similarly affected.

"Wow, man! So, when’s the wedding?" asked Jax, who unknowingly knocked people out with a few words.

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