The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL]-Chapter 518: Crumbling Dreams

"Papa!"

The sweet little voice rang through the air, and Duke Leander’s chest swelled with pride and joy.

There he was—his precious Luca.

So young, so small, so unbearably cute, running to him with chubby little hands and a bright, gleeful smile.

"Papa!" Luca giggled again, throwing himself into his father’s waiting arms.

"Oh, my precious boy!" Leander cried, twirling him around before setting him down to play.

The two of them crouched on the floor, playing with tiny battleship toys.

"Boom! Haha!" Luca squealed, knocking over a plastic ship as Leander feigned defeat with a dramatic groan.

Nothing in the world could compare to this happiness.

Nothing.

Leander stood for a moment to grab another toy from the cabinet.

It was the perfect addition to their little game.

But when he turned back...

He froze.

There was Luca.

Still smiling.

Still absolutely adorable.

But now sitting in front of...a young white wolf.

"?"

The little cub sat there calmly, its azure eyes glinting.

Leander blinked and shook his head.

Ah, children and their imaginations.

He walked over, holding out the toy.

"Here you go, my boy! Papa found another battleship!"

But to his shock, Luca only shook his head sweetly and said,

"I wanna play with the wolf now!"

Leander’s smile faltered.

...Well. That was fine.

Children change their minds frequently, and it’s normal to want to play with different toys. Maybe he should get new ones so his son could have more choices.

But just as the father was carefully thinking about which toys to add to his little boy’s arsenal, he found himself outside the room he had just been in.

Huh? How odd. And yet the Duke just shrugged it off, since he was just outside his son’s door anyway. What difference would that make?

Ideally nothing. He just had to open this to see him again.

And so he did.

Then Duke Leander next called out, "Luca!" excitedly, while flinging open the door to his son’s room—

Only to find an unusual scene before him. The wolf was much bigger now, towering over the little Luca, who was stroking its fur happily.

"My son! Come play battleships with Papa!" Leander called, his voice just a little strained.

But Luca only smiled. His golden eyes were shining as he did.

"No thanks, Papa. I’m playing with the wolf now."

Crack.

A sharp ache bloomed in Leander’s chest.

But he tried to tell himself it was fine.

Really.

Because didn’t he also play with other kids and other toys?

He did. Therefore, his little boy was just growing normally. And that meant he should be fine.

Until that final straw.

He came back with a plate of fried fish he had carefully prepared himself, a hopeful smile fixed on his face. This was meant to be a treat, and he only hoped his little boy would enjoy it and eat his fill today.

"Luca, Papa brought your favorite—"

But his son wasn’t there.

"!!!"

Panic set in.

He all but flew down the stairs, his heart hammering in his chest and his breath coming in sharp, frantic gasps.

And there, by the double doors, he saw it.

Luca standing there, his tiny shirt clutched in the mouth of that enormous white wolf.

Then, as if hearing someone, the boy turned, his chubby cheeks puffed in a big, sunny grin, and eyes crinkled with innocent joy, as if he were just heading off on the happiest little adventure.

"Goodbye, Papa!" he called cheerfully. "I’m going with the wolf now!"

Leander froze. Then the plate slipped from his hands.

Fish clattered against the floor, but he didn’t even hear it.

"No...no!"

The wolf moved slowly, deliberately, as though mocking him, Luca held firmly between its teeth by the scruff of his little shirt.

"Luca!"

His knees hit the ground with a sickening thud as he reached forward, fingers grasping at nothing.

"No! Luca! Don’t—!"

But the wolf kept walking, and he, whose legs suddenly felt like they’d been welded to the floor, could do nothing but cry out.

"LUCA—!"

His voice broke. His outstretched hand trembled. His chest ached as though his heart itself had been ripped out.

But the boy only smiled at him, waving so sweetly.

"No, don’t go—LUCAAAAAAA!"

The doors closed in his face, and the sound of his own desperate scream filled the dark.

He woke with a scream.

"LUCA!"

His arms shot upward, grasping at empty air, his heart slamming against his ribs as his voice tore through the initially quiet medical bay.

He blinked rapidly, eyes wide and wild, until the world finally settled around him.

And then he saw him.

His son, Luca.

Right there.

But he wasn’t smiling.

His little face was wet with tears, his shoulders trembling as he tried to wipe at his eyes.

Leander’s hands faltered in the air, and his voice cracked.

"...My son?"

The boy’s lip wobbled.

And that quiet, tear-streaked face hurt more than anything Leander had seen in his dream.

But had the Duke been aware of what happened earlier, he might have understood the source of his son’s tears.

The deafening silence in the room had been shattered by a single, unexpected moment.

Unexpected, at least, for Luca, who, until earlier, hadn’t realized how groundbreaking the news really was.

All he remembered was the way his father’s eyes widened, his pupils dilating in stunned disbelief. And then, before the young heir could even process it, the Duke began to fall.

It all happened in slow motion.

His father’s usually steady figure tipping back, his arms limp at his sides, the shock still etched on his pale face.

Only the quick reflexes of Duchess Amelia and King Garick kept him from hitting the floor outright.

For Luca, it was as if his ears popped then, and all the noise of the world came rushing back at once.

He could hear himself cry out as he ran forward, his chest tight with panic.

"Papa!"

"Mom," Luca gasped, his hands trembling as he reached her side. "What... what happened?!"

But to his surprise, his mother didn’t look nearly as frazzled as he felt.

Her expression remained composed, her movements graceful as she cupped his face gently.

"Luca," she said softly. "Everything’s going to be alright. I promise. Could you do me a favor, though? See the King off in your father’s stead. I’ll take care of this."

Luca blinked at her, wide-eyed.

"But—"

"There’s no need to worry," she said, cutting him off before he could protest further.

Even King Garick, still helping support the Duke’s weight, looked at her in disbelief.

"Shouldn’t we get him to the medical bay now?" the King asked, his tone surprisingly sharp as he himself was alarmed by the sudden developments. For one, he was trying not to beat himself up over his thoughtless comment that probably led to this situation.

But Amelia only smiled faintly, her calm unwavering.

"It’s alright, Your Majesty. We’ll handle this; there’s no need to delay your journey," she said simply.

She turned to face the King and inclined her head graciously.

"And please don’t trouble yourself over it," she added when he opened his mouth to apologize. "You said nothing wrong. This was bound to happen sooner or later. The bandage just...came off much later than anyone expected."

Her voice was quiet, but steady, as she adjusted her hold on her husband’s shoulder.

There would always be a part of her that was terrified, but she hadn’t married Duke Leander for his name, his title, or his power.

She had married him because of the kind of man he was—a man who loved fiercely and wholeheartedly, but understood that, more than love, the real foundation of any relationship was respect.

So, no, she wasn’t that worried about Leander.

What worried her now was their son, standing there, absolutely mortified, his golden eyes still wide and shimmering.

Heavens help them all.