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

Chapter 1090: The Closest Thing

Paternity leave.

Two words that nearly caused one Chief of Staff to slip on perfectly flat ground toward certain death.

Killian would like to believe he had been functioning as a perfectly normal human being up until the exact moment his mother suddenly uttered something as absurd as:

"You know what? You should go on paternity leave."

Honestly, the moment she opened with "You know what," he should’ve already activated every defensive instinct available to him.

And yet somehow, he still allowed himself to get ambushed like this.

Now he was paying dearly for it.

Killian Nox genuinely could not figure out where he was supposed to pull his next words from because his thoughts had completely short-circuited from sheer disbelief.

He wanted to say she had to be joking.

Unfortunately, there was one major problem with that hopeful assumption.

The jokes of his dear mother, Marquise Evelyn Nox, rarely strayed far from her actual opinions.

Which meant she was probably serious.

Then again, what else did he expect?

The young official slowly sighed while rubbing his forehead before finally replying, "Sure, Mother. You can personally head there and explain that I need several days off to care for and supervise the birth of my baby bee."

However, the sly Marquise of House Nox merely looked at him calmly before responding, "But isn’t that essentially the truth?"

"..."

"Didn’t the Elders say you needed to remain here so the spirit could properly stabilize and hatch?" she continued casually. "The little one needs regular infusions of spiritual energy from you, you know?"

"Or are you seriously planning to return to work in between feeding sessions while looking like someone had wrung you dry?"

Her gaze slowly swept over him.

"Would you even function properly?"

"..."

As usual, her arguments were horrifyingly reasonable.

Unfortunately, so was his workload.

Because contrary to popular belief, mountains of paperwork did not magically complete themselves simply because someone accidentally "fathered" a baby mutant bee.

Killian opened his mouth to argue.

Then Marquise Evelyn immediately raised a hand.

"Uh, uh. Not so fast."

The elegant lady waggled her hand before pointing at him accusingly.

"You’re about to say you have too much work again."

"Well, I do, Mother—"

"We know," she interrupted smoothly. "And since people always say it takes a village to raise children, the rest of us grown-ups will simply help lighten your workload."

Killian stared at her blankly.

Meanwhile, the Marquise looked absurdly relaxed despite saying things that sounded completely alien to her son.

"There are plenty of us here," she continued with clear amusement. "So we’ll handle as much as possible while you stay put like the Elders instructed."

"..."

When her son failed to respond immediately, the lady of House Nox slowly raised one perfect brow.

Finally, Killian looked at her suspiciously before asking in complete seriousness,

"Mom... by any chance... are you sick?"

"..."

Honestly, it was a valid concern.

His mother and voluntary work assistance rarely existed in the same sentence.

At this point, after everything that had happened recently, Killian genuinely couldn’t dismiss the possibility of supernatural possession anymore.

"This brat!"

The usually graceful and sophisticated Marquise nearly lost composure on the spot.

In fact, she looked dangerously close to throttling her own child before forcibly restraining herself through sheer dignity.

"If this is the closest thing to a grandchild that we could get from you," she snapped, "then you are absolutely taking a mandatory leave!"

Killian flinched at that.

It wasn’t like his parents had ever pressured him to start a family immediately. If anything, most of the pressure came from outside nobles circling him like vultures in hopes of becoming the next lord or lady of House Nox.

However, that unusual leniency mostly came from his mother being painfully aware of what partners meant for people like them. Because for their family, the true enemy had always been their tendency to live and breathe work.

So just knowing that he might finally have something else to focus on besides endless duties had probably sent his mother onto an entirely different plane of happiness.

Ah, really. What should he do about this?

Then, as if proving Killian’s hypothesis, his mother continued mercilessly.

"At this point, we don’t even care if you return home carrying a sea slug or a fern!"

"We’re not even going to prod about how that could happen—"

"???"

"But if, deep in your heart, you already know this has something to do with you, then you’d better take responsibility properly!"

The Marquise pointed sharply at him.

"You can handle responsibility for an Empire, so you can certainly handle responsibility for something born from you!"

"..."

Killian remained deeply disturbed by how this conversation somehow kept sounding worse the longer it went on.

And really...

Moments like this were exactly why he firmly believed shorter people were infinitely more terrifying.

Holding onto his increasingly aching head, the adjutant finally muttered, "I wasn’t planning on shirking responsibility anyway..."

His expression twisted awkwardly.

"It was definitely an accident, even from the very beginning. It wasn’t like we went out of our way to do that..."

He could barely continue his words as he loosened his collar, which was suddenly feeling too constricting.

"And I think you’re imagining something highly unlikely. Would it really be possible to hide from that one?"

"..."

Then Killian suddenly froze at the absurdity of this conversation.

He sounded like he had accidentally gotten someone pregnant, for heaven’s sake!

But what could he do when the people around him were similarly deranged?

__

Then again, if someone really wanted to talk about deranged behavior, wouldn’t he inevitably end up at the forefront of the discussion anyway?

Because when everything boiled down to it, he had still made that choice himself.

Sure, he got to that point by sheer coincidence. But at the end of the day...

Any truly sensible person would label what happened properly instead of claiming he was merely "passing oxygen."

Who would need tongue for that?

"..."

"..."

Killian slowly leaned back against his chair before covering his eyes with one hand.

The adjutant tapped his foot repeatedly against the ground as though internally debating something serious. Once. Twice. Several more times.

Then suddenly—

He stood up.

Without warning, the man immediately started heading toward the exit of his cabin inside the dungeon space.

"And where exactly are you going now?"

The official paused mid-step.

Because apparently, in all his contemplation, he had completely forgotten his mother was still there.

The Chief of Staff stopped right by the doorway before slowly turning his head toward the Marquise, who now stood with her arms crossed while clearly waiting for an explanation.

For a beat, the two simply stared at one another.

Then Killian unexpectedly stuck out his tongue slightly before flashing a teasing grin.

"Pre-natal care," he answered shamelessly.

"..."

"..."

Before his mother could react, Killian immediately added,

"So I’ll leave those documents to you, Mom!"

His eyes carried a distinctly playful glint as he lazily waved one hand in farewell.

Then, before the increasingly dangerous Marquise could properly process the audacity coming out of her own son’s mouth—

Killian vanished completely.

Naturally, this escape was likely the only reason he survived the encounter at all.