The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL]

Chapter 1011: A Matter of Appeal

There were scenes that one would definitely find in books, but probably never in real life. But if one dungeon owner could even revive the dead or regain the flesh of talking bones, then what were the chances of encountering such unusual events?

Laughable.

As in laughably possible.

For when the two bumbling brothers decided to walk around, claiming that "they won’t take long," they ended up having such an encounter.

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Aziel Solaris wasn’t supposed to be there at this point in time.

It was already way past curfew, and the teen should’ve long been sent back to bed.

But because of everything that had unfolded earlier, the young noble had managed to slip away from the ever-smiling, overly accommodating ushers who had been far too busy managing the aftermath of the evening.

Of course, such a feat didn’t come without consequences.

Namely, hiding behind a very large decorative vase.

One that he was currently pressed against while carefully concealing his presence and doing his best not to move an inch.

It was, quite frankly, humiliating.

And yet, despite the indignity of his situation, it was precisely because of this hiding spot that he’d been able to overhear what he believed were important pieces of information.

The first came in the form of a group of noble ladies whose heels clicked sharply against the polished floor as they approached the nearby lounge.

"Oh, I’m telling you, it’s getting worse," one of them sighed, her tone filled with genuine distress.

"I know," another replied immediately. "It’s like all the most eligible bachelors are just...going for each other these days."

"And what does that leave us with?" a third added, clearly exasperated. "Fewer and fewer prospects."

"That’s exactly what I’ve been saying!"

"I had such high hopes this year too..."

"It’s completely unfair."

Their voices overlapped in a flurry of shared frustration as they neared the women’s lounge situated close to the men’s, the very place Aziel had chosen as his hiding spot.

Then, with one final series of echoing steps, the doors closed behind them.

Silence followed.

Aziel remained perfectly still, conserving his spiritual energy as best as he could. Maintaining his concealment for this long already required effort, and he couldn’t afford to waste it by stretching his senses too far.

Unfortunately, that also meant he couldn’t hear the rest of their conversation.

But just as he was about to resign himself to that loss, the doors opened once more.

And just like that, the same group of ladies stepped out again, their earlier frustration now replaced with a giddy sort of excitement.

"Did you see those gazes?" one of them asked, barely containing her excitement.

"I did," another answered quickly. "I was really torn about liking the situation, but the way the Young Lord looked—!"

"And Lord Kyle Nox," someone cut in, her voice dropping into something almost breathless. "That couldn’t possibly be normal."

"And gosh! Lord Luca," a third added, fanning herself lightly. "He was so domineering. The way he looked at his partner..."

Aziel’s ears perked up despite himself.

"That kind of attention..." one of them sighed dreamily. "Where are we even supposed to find something like that?"

"I know! I wish I were in their place!"

"Truly, where else are we going to find men like that for our dream romance?"

There was a brief pause before one of them added, half-laughing but clearly serious,

"At this point, I just hope the Imperial Crown Prince turns out like them and stays single. At least then we’d still have someone."

"Right?" another agreed immediately. "Because if not...are we really supposed to start looking outside the Empire?"

Their voices gradually faded as they walked further away, leaving behind a very stunned young noble.

Aziel frowned.

Unreasonable.

That was the only conclusion he could arrive at.

How could they possibly forget to include someone like him in that list of prospects?

Him.

Aziel Solaris.

And yet they had the audacity to include people like Kyle Nox. Or Jackson Taylor.

Now, if they had been discussing matters like height or build, then perhaps he could understand. At the moment, those individuals were admittedly sturdier than he was.

But not for long.

He was a Solaris.

It was only a matter of time before he reached that level.

However, to include even that blonde Mylor in their list of desirable partners was simply unacceptable.

An affront.

Naturally, as a member of the Imperial Family—regardless of how many times detached he was from the main branch—he could not allow such a grave oversight to persist.

And so, after taking a moment to compose himself and step out from behind the decorative vase with as much dignity as he could gather, Aziel cleared his throat.

"Ahem!"

He appeared with what he believed was a composed and dignified air. His posture was straight, his chin slightly raised, and his hands folded neatly behind his back as he approached the group of young ladies.

In his mind, he looked every bit the refined noble.

Mature. Collected. Impressive.

"In the Empire of Solaris," he began, voice steady, "it seems you have all overlooked something rather important."

The ladies paused mid-step.

All eyes turned to him.

Aziel took that as encouragement.

"Or rather, someone," he corrected smoothly. "Because while you speak of prospects, of eligible bachelors, and of limited options, you seem to have forgotten that I, who bear the closest likeness to the Imperial Crown Prince, am very much present."

He nodded once, satisfied with his delivery.

Surely that had been convincing.

Mature.

Impeccable.

"..."

"..."

The ladies blinked.

Then, almost in perfect unison, they glanced at one another.

And then back at him.

"Oh..." one of them said, her lips curving into a gentle smile.

"That’s true," another added, nodding thoughtfully. "Young Lord Aziel could definitely make the list."

"In a few years," someone chimed in.

"Or perhaps the list of the younger ladies," another suggested sweetly.

Aziel froze.

"...What?"

The word slipped out before he could stop it.

He frowned, clearly dissatisfied with that response.

"What do you mean ’in a few years’?" he pressed, his earlier composure cracking just a little. "How could you even say that? What exactly do the men on that list have that I don’t?"

The ladies exchanged another round of looks.

Because, quite frankly, the answer was obvious.

Age.

But at the same time, none of them had the heart to say it so bluntly.

So instead, one of them smiled gently and stepped forward, clearly trying to give him something he could accept.

"Well," she began carefully, "it’s just that...to us, Young Lord, while you are very cute—"

"—you’re little-brother cute," another finished, nodding.

"..."

It was like getting struck by lightning.

"Ack!"

And then, as if that wasn’t enough, it felt like a rain cloud had formed directly above his head, drenching him on the spot.

"What do you even mean?!" Aziel protested immediately, completely abandoning whatever image of maturity he’d been trying to maintain. "I’m even taller than all of you! And I’m taller than some of those on the list!"

His tone carried genuine pride.

Because he was proud of his height.

One of the ladies raised a finger, as if presenting an important lesson.

"It’s appeal," she said.

"Appeal?" Aziel repeated, clearly unconvinced.

"There are just people," she continued patiently, "who naturally exude a kind of charm that places them in the category for romance."

"And then there are those," another added, smiling at him kindly, "who fall into the ever-so-cute younger brother category."

"And without this kind of appeal," a third explained, "it’s really hard to see a relationship progressing into something more mature."

Another lady sighed softly, shrugging her shoulders as she added her own experience.

"Even with the best looks, if someone doesn’t have that appeal, regardless of gender, the relationship ends up feeling platonic."

She crossed her arms lightly, looking as though she was recalling something very specific.

"I dated someone who was quite good-looking," she admitted, "but every time we went out together, it felt like I was spending time with the awkward long-time family friend that I grew up with."

She shook her head.

"There was no appeal. No spark."

Aziel’s eyes widened.

Appeal?

Spark?

Just what were those supposed to be?

He opened his mouth, clearly ready to question further, but the ladies had already begun explaining more, practically turning the entire exchange into an impromptu lecture.

"Well, you see—"

"It’s about presence—"

"And the way someone looks at you—"

"It’s also about how they carry themselves—"

They spoke over one another, each adding bits and pieces of what they thought defined this mysterious "appeal."

Then—

"Wow, my lady. You’re very knowledgeable."

The sudden voice cut cleanly through the conversation.

Everyone stilled.

The ladies turned first, surprise written plainly across their faces.

Aziel followed a beat later.

And then they all froze.

Because standing there, just a short distance away, were two of the very people they had been talking about earlier.

The very subjects of their admiration.

"Ah—!"

A collective gasp escaped them all at once.