The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] - Chapter 783

Capítulo 783: Blessed Be the In-Law

But did they die?

Nope. Therefore, it could definitely be counted as a success.

Then again, maybe it would still be better to keep the truth about the parade all to themselves. The people of the Empire had only just recovered from the greeting. If they learned what had transpired behind closed doors, then heart specialists would be booked for months.

Not that anyone had time to think about that, because the Annual Expo grounds finally opened, announced by the unmistakable sounds of smoke bombs.

Boom! Boom!

Luca was extremely excited.

So excited that Xavier had to wrap an arm around his waist and physically anchor him to the ground. The young cadet had been ready to leap into the crowd like an affectionate rocket, completely forgetting that he and the others had to return to their booth for their assigned station shifts.

“!!!”

The sound he made was a mixture of joy, sudden realization, and betrayal of physics.

Xavier gently tightened his hold before his little chipmunk could attempt orbit. His expression showed amusement, but the hand on Luca’s waist betrayed a level of vigilance usually reserved for capturing wild beasts or preventing children from running into traffic.

“Didn’t you want to be first to greet our guests?” Xavier whispered near Luca’s ear, and the stunned woodland creature almost jumped.

The prince chuckled at Luca’s gasp, then added, “We will go around as soon as we’re finished with our shifts.”

Luca, after reprogramming his thoughts, realized that he did want that. For the first time, he wanted to know what it would feel like to stand behind the counter as the cashier.

But in truth, it was not just Luca battling the urge to sprint. There was a heightened atmosphere across the entire expo grounds. The moment the doors opened, something electrifying rippled through the crowd, and their first hurdle?

The ticketing center and the entrance inspection.

__

It was pandemonium.

The moment the announcement rang out that the Annual Expo grounds were open, people surged toward the ticketing booths.

While the people coming from outside the capital planet of Solara had prepared well in advance because they didn’t particularly have a choice, the people from the capital usually didn’t bother. Because, based on historical experience, there would always be more than enough tickets to attend the expo.

Therefore, just like before, they would simply decide whether to buy a ticket based on the excitement level of the annual parade.

So with the confidence of citizens who had never known the pain of scarcity, they followed tradition without hesitation. After all, this was the capital. There were always tickets. Always.

Except this time.

A sharp collective gasp spread through the crowd as the first unlucky citizen reached the window.

“What do you mean only half-day passes are left?” he squeaked.

The clerk blinked at him. “Half-day passes only. Everything else is sold out.”

A woman behind him screamed. Someone else clutched their chest. A third person grabbed the booth railing and stared at the holographic sign that indeed confirmed that all full-event passes had vanished from the public market.

“But that cannot be right. This is the Expo. There are always tickets.”

“Not this year,” the clerk said, far too calmly for the situation.

The panic spread instantly. People rushed to the booth windows. They shouted at each other. They begged the system to refresh. They even tried to shake their terminals like that would magically produce a full-event pass.

Someone cried out, “I should have listened to my aunt. She said this parade felt different. Why did I not buy earlier?”

Meanwhile, just a few meters away, the people who had lined up for entry inspection stood frozen as they listened to the wails of the ticketless. Slowly, silently, reverently, they clutched their pre-bought passes.

Those tickets were pressed to chests, held up like sacred offerings, and guarded with the same intensity normally reserved for family heirlooms. One man even slipped his into his shirt and refused to remove his hand from over his heart.

A woman near him whispered, “Do not show it too openly. You never know who might try to steal it.”

Across from them stood the VIP entrance line. Normally, VIP guests were calm, confident, and composed. Today, however, every single ear in the VIP area was pointed sharply toward the screaming citizens at the ticket booths.

Some lifted their eyebrows.

Some shook their heads politely.

While the others nodded in painful understanding.

And then there was a certain giant blonde named Owen whose reaction was more complicated.

He stood there like a lamppost, towering over his group of school friends who were clinging to his legs as if he were a sacred pillar.

“Owen, you absolute legend,” one friend declared.

“You saved our lives,” another cried.

“I cannot believe we have full-event passes,” a third whispered while stroking the holo-tag like it was treasure.

Owen scratched his cheek shyly. “Ah. Actually, these tickets are from my older brother’s boyfriend.”

Silence.

Then a chorus of reverent gasps.

“Your in-law is the greatest,” someone whispered.

“Bless that man,” another said.

“May the stars watch over him,” a third murmured, already building a shrine in his mind.

Somewhere in the Expo grounds, a blue-haired cadet paused mid-step. His ears twitched. He frowned slightly, sensing that someone was talking about him again.

__

Meanwhile, back at the official personnel lane, a different kind of envy swirled.

Soldiers and officers stood in an orderly line, waiting to be checked in. They all knew they would be allowed inside the venue because it was part of their assignment. Some were there to guard. Some were there to escort dignitaries. Others were there to judge or provide support.

They would get in, yes.

But they wouldn’t be allowed to freely explore with the kind of tag they were getting.

Which was why the atmosphere shifted every time someone in the same line stepped forward to receive a full-event holo tag.

The bright green strip was pinned proudly to the chest of the very lucky individual. The tag shimmered under the sun like it was mocking the rest of them.

Heads subtly turned.

Uniforms rustled.

Eyes narrowed in silent, unified jealousy.

One of these fortunate people was Deputy Officer Curtis.

He stepped up calmly, presented his credentials, and the staff attached the glowing green tag to him with practiced efficiency.

The line behind him went stiff.

Marshal Julian glanced over with a questionable raised eyebrow as he eyed the holo tag.

“Full event pass?” asked the Marshal.

“Yes, sir,” Curtis answered, as if this were the most natural thing in the world.

Several soldiers stared at him.

One whispered, “I can’t believe it. He actually managed to get one.”

Another muttered, “We’re all entering the same place, but he gets to walk around after his shift. I knew I should’ve asked her out.”

A third sighed dramatically, “That’s not even everything, you know…”

Curtis ignored every single comment.

He adjusted the green tag with calm precision and stepped forward with the composed dignity of a man who had actually risked his life and sanity just to be able to get this pinned on him.

The line groaned collectively.

And that was only the beginning.

Because who would’ve expected this year’s Annual Expo to be like this?