Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight!-Chapter 379: ’Benefit Of The Doubt.’

"Silver for your thoughts, Your Highness?" Lucius asked gently, his voice cutting through the quiet tension that had settled between them like mist on a cold morning.

Florian blinked, the weight of his thoughts momentarily dislodged by the unexpected question. He turned to Lucius, his expression softening. "Oh... I was just... thinking about the current issue."

’Thinking? That’s putting it lightly.’

He wasn’t just thinking—he was spiraling. Between Delilah’s betrayal-that-wasn’t, the looming test from the princesses, Drizelous’ unexpected vulnerability, and Azure’s return, it was as if his brain had become an overcrowded ballroom, thoughts dancing frantically with no music to guide them.

Florian exhaled quietly. He knew Lucius—and probably Lancelot too—were now aware of most of the situation. Maybe not every twisted, tangled thread of it, but the important parts.

That there were possibly two perpetrators. That Delilah was under threat. That her life might be hanging by a thread.

Security had been increased accordingly. But even with that knowledge, the gnawing in Florian’s chest hadn’t gone away.

"Oh." Lucius let out a small sigh, his gloved hands folded behind his back as he walked beside Florian. "You needn’t worry too much, Your Highness. We’ve decided to formally coordinate with the Concordian Head of Defense and Security. We’re bringing in external investigators to track down the culprits discreetly. We’re keeping it low-profile to avoid alerting them."

Florian looked over at him, surprised. ’External investigators? They’re finally bringing in people from the outside?’

The Head of Defense and Security... He had vaguely heard about it. Concordia had multiple departments that operated similarly to the noble houses—support structures meant to aid the Crown.

There was the treasury department, the department of labor, agriculture, military, and of course... defense and security. A proper infrastructure. A kingdom that could run like a machine—if only its king had his hands on the wheel.

Unfortunately, Heinz hardly ever even glanced in that direction.

Florian tilted his head slightly, his tone dry. "I’m surprised we didn’t have to host another summit just to get them to agree."

Lucius chuckled under his breath. "Fortunately, unlike the ducal families, these departments still fall directly under His Majesty’s rule. They don’t have the luxury to decline royal commands. Especially not when they rely on Crown funding to keep functioning."

Right. They were bound by duty—and budget. Unlike the dukes, who held more autonomy and loved to remind everyone of it.

"Mhm." Florian hummed in acknowledgement, though his mind was already drifting elsewhere again.

His smile, fleeting as it was, gradually faded. His fingers lightly brushed the edge of his robe as he walked, absently toying with the silky fabric. His brows furrowed just the slightest as his thoughts turned inward.

Drizelous.

His voice. His expression in the mirror.

"I think... you should be a bit wary of the princesses," Drizelous said quietly, his voice carrying a softness that was unusual for him.

His fingers gently worked through Florian’s hair, carefully pinning a jeweled clip into place. From the mirror in front of them, Florian could clearly see the shift in the tailor’s face—his usually bright and flamboyant features now calm, serious, and focused, not on the hairstyle, but on the reflection of the prince sitting before him.

Florian blinked, the warning catching him off guard. "Why...?" he asked, his brow furrowing. The princesses, while sometimes a handful, had never given him any reason to doubt their intentions.

If anything, they were among the few people he could speak to without overthinking every word.

Drizelous offered him a half-smile—polished, practiced, but not quite warm. "Tailor’s instinct, Your Highness."

’That’s not helpful at all,’ Florian thought, tilting his head slightly as he studied Drizelous in the mirror.

"I know you’re kind, Prince Florian," Drizelous continued, his tone lightening just a bit as he began adjusting one of the folds in Florian’s outfit. "You’re now my favorite muse, of course. I wouldn’t bother pouring my soul into these clothes if I didn’t genuinely admire the person wearing them."

Florian smiled, if only slightly. The compliment was oddly specific, but he appreciated it nonetheless.

"But," Drizelous went on, his tone dipping into a more critical edge, "your kindness seems to trump your intelligence."

Florian’s smile faltered. "...I feel like I should be offended," he muttered under his breath, watching his reflection for any signs of genuine irritation—but all he saw was faint confusion.

"You shouldn’t be offended, Your Highness. It’s still a compliment."

’But I’m not really offended. Just... mildly stunned.’

"I’m not that kind," Florian replied softly, almost instinctively.

Drizelous paused, looking at him in the mirror with a raised brow and a teasing grin. "Really? This is coming from the man who is still trying to help my mother clear her name, despite the fact that she has made it very clear from the beginning that she couldn’t stand the sight of you?"

Florian looked away slightly, cheeks warming. "...That’s different."

"It’s not," Drizelous said with a chuckle, resuming his work. "Your Highness, you’re the type to help people you dislike and not even notice when someone dislikes you unless they outright show it. You give people far too much benefit of the doubt. You also seem like the type who only judges someone based only on what they show you, not what they really are inside."

Florian didn’t argue.

’Am I really that naïve?’ he wondered. ’I mean, it’s not like I trust people easily... but maybe I do trust them too quickly when they’re nice to me. How am I going to know who they are inside though? It’s not like I can read their mind.’

Drizelous gave him a pointed look through the mirror. "A big example of that is His Majesty."

Heinz.

Even just thinking his name made something in Florian tighten—not in affection, but in confusion.

’Why would Drizelous use Heinz as an example?’

It wasn’t the first time. Delilah had done the same, comparing Heinz to his mother as if there was a tenderness buried deep inside him, something fragile and human. And now her son—Drizelous, who seemed to see through people more than he let on—was saying that Florian was misunderstanding Heinz.

’How am I misunderstanding him? What’s there to misunderstand?’

To Florian, Heinz was exactly what he presented himself to be—cold, distant, emotionally stunted, and occasionally terrifying. He didn’t wear masks. He didn’t pretend to be someone he wasn’t. If anything, he was too blunt. Too honest in his indifference. There was no warmth hidden beneath the surface. Just... more layers of ice.

’This mother and son, I swear. They give Heinz’s emotional intelligence way too much benefit of the doubt.’ Florian crossed his arms, frowning as he walked beside Lucius.

Yes, lately Heinz had been... different. Quieter, maybe. Less sharp-edged when speaking to him. Sometimes his gaze lingered longer. Sometimes his voice softened, just barely, like a breeze in place of a cold wind.

But Florian refused to read into it. He couldn’t read into it.

That kind of thinking was dangerous.

He couldn’t afford to forget who Heinz was in the novel. Who Aden and Kaz had written him to be. The cruel tyrant, the heartless king, the destroyer of hearts—including the original Florian’s. A man so unreachable he reduced his lovers to husks, addicted to the scraps of affection he barely gave. freewёbn૦νeɭ.com

And Florian remembered.

He remembered the emotions the original Florian had left in this body like bloodstains on silk—every heartbreak, every desperate, yearning moment.

How could he ever see Heinz in a different light?

If he was ever going to...

His breath hitched.

"Kneel."

That voice. Low. Commanding. Dark with desire.

Florian nearly stumbled as the memory slammed into him with the force of a tidal wave.

"Good boy."

He froze.

His entire face ignited, his skin flushing a vivid crimson as the echoes of that night—the night—rushed forward like an ambush.

Images flashed behind his eyes. Heinz’s fingers inside him. The taste of him. The weight. The heat. His voice.

’Oh my god.’

He instinctively slapped a hand over his mouth, trying to physically block the thoughts out, but it was too late. His body betrayed him. His knees felt weak, and—

"Your Highness?"

Lucius’s voice snapped him back to the present.

Florian’s head whipped toward him, eyes wide like a deer caught in firelight.

Lucius blinked at him, his expression a mixture of confusion and... suspicion?

"Is something wrong, Your Highness?" Lucius asked carefully, tilting his head. Then his gaze slowly trailed over Florian’s face. "Your face is red."

Florian said nothing.

Lucius’s eyes narrowed, now staring openly. "...Your Highness. Why are you embarrassed and..." A pause. "...aroused?"

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