Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight!-Chapter 380: ’Issues Everywhere.’

"I-I..." Florian stammered, trying to summon any sort of excuse—but nothing came. There was no excuse. Not a logical one. Not even a good lie.

How could he explain that he was suddenly aroused in the middle of a corridor—because of a memory?

A very specific memory involving his mouth, Heinz, and far too much sinful detail for eight in the morning?

’I shouldn’t be aroused. I should not be aroused.’

But the heat in his cheeks, the flutter in his chest, the way his legs felt like jelly—it wasn’t going away.

’I’m straight. I’m a straight man. I’ve always been straight—so this... this has to be him.’

It had to be the original Florian—the one whose memories were still fused with his body like old wine in a stained goblet. Because that was the only explanation.

He, the transmigrator, did not enjoy that night. He did not want to remember any of it. Especially not the taste. The sounds. The feeling.

God.

Lucius was still watching him.

Curious, of course. Too observant for his own good.

And yet... he wasn’t pressing. Not yet.

Because of their recent fight—Florian realized. Lucius was probably too scared to upset him again.

’You know what? I’ll take it. If his guilt makes him shut up, I’ll use it.’

Florian turned away, heart still pounding. "I... don’t want to talk about it, alright? It’s nothing."

His tone was sharp but not unkind, firm but not cold. A perfect balance of ’please don’t ask’ and ’please don’t hate me for being weirdly flustered at nothing.’

Of course, it only confirmed that something had happened—but that was fine. Lucius could assume whatever he wanted, as long as he didn’t ask.

"I hope you can respect that," Florian added more softly.

Lucius paused, then nodded, bowing his head with quiet grace. "Of course, Your Highness."

But Florian saw it—the flicker of hurt in his golden eyes, quickly masked behind his polished expression.

And he felt awful.

Like he was using Lucius as a shield instead of treating him as a friend. But the moment had been too mortifying. There was no way he could’ve looked him in the eyes and said, "Sorry, I got hard remembering the king who had your Florian executed took me inside his mouth, and I did the same."

No. Absolutely not.

"We’ll be arriving at our destination soon," Lucius said after a beat, his voice composed again as they resumed walking.

"Good," Florian muttered, relieved. Fortunately, the complete and total mortification had doused any lingering heat in his body.

’Thank God. I’m never thinking about that again. Ever.’

But the awkward silence needed to be broken, so Florian latched on to the first safe topic that came to mind.

"So, uh... Lucius. Were you able to speak with Lucas?"

Lucius looked slightly startled by the question, but he didn’t brush it off. Instead, he exhaled and shook his head.

"No, Your Highness. I did not."

"Hm." Florian tilted his head. "Is it okay to ask why? It seemed like he really wanted to catch up with you. I heard he even sends you letters."

He glanced sideways, watching Lucius’s expression shift slightly. There was a flicker of tension there—a memory, maybe, or guilt.

"Are you mad at him?" Florian asked gently. "Did... he not do anything when you got..."

Florian stopped himself, biting the inside of his cheek. He didn’t want to say it, not even whisper it. Even if Lucius had shared it with others, even if he’d already told Florian once before—he still felt that pain should be treated like a sacred thing.

Lucius was silent for a beat.

"No," he said at last. "My brother was... one of the few who fought my father to get me justice. He did everything he could."

That surprised Florian. He blinked, genuinely caught off guard. "...Then why...?"

"Because when he tried to defend me," Lucius said, voice quiet and strained, "my father threatened to strip him of his position as the heir. I didn’t want him to lose it. So I pushed him away."

Florian’s heart clenched.

He hadn’t expected that.

Lucius had always seemed so composed, so emotionally restrained. Yet here he was, laying down a shard of his past like it was nothing, as if it wasn’t a wound he still carried with him.

"...But he’s the heir now, right?" Florian asked softly, furrowing his brows. "What’s stopping you from speaking to him now? He... still seems to really care about you, Lucius."

Lucius didn’t respond immediately. He just looked ahead, his jaw tightening ever so slightly.

"Because he’s the heir," Lucius simply said.

Florian blinked. "...You kind of lost me there, Lucius."

Lucius glanced at him, and for a second, his expression was unreadable—jaw tight, brows slightly pinched. But then, surprisingly, he exhaled a soft laugh.

Florian narrowed his eyes. "What’s so funny?"

"Nothing, nothing, Your Highness," Lucius said, still smiling. "It’s just... your face. You looked adorably confused."

Florian huffed, crossing his arms across his chest. "Me? Adorably confused? What’s actually ridiculous is you saying you pushed away your brother because you wanted him to be the heir, but now you’re still pushing him away because he’s the heir. Make it make sense."

That only made Lucius laugh more. A real one—slightly breathy, tinged with fondness. It echoed gently in the corridor.

"I apologize," he said, trying to stifle it behind a gloved hand. "Truly, I do. I suppose my explanation was a bit lacking."

"Your apology has a lot of laughter in it," Florian muttered, trying his best not to pout. But his expression betrayed him—he was pouting.

’Jerk.’

Lucius smiled wider. "I’m trying not to laugh, I swear. But it’s hard when you’re looking at me like a sulking child."

’How is that my fault?’ Florian thought, narrowing his eyes. He wanted to be mad, but... he couldn’t. Not really.

Lucius, for all his flaws, was someone Florian had grown so accustomed to—his presence was irritatingly constant. Like the ticking of a clock or the rustling of leaves outside his window. Always there. Always watching. Ever so loyal.

’He’s annoying, but... he’s part of my life here. Just like Cashew. Just like Azure.’

Even Heinz. Even Lancelot.

These people had rooted themselves into his daily life like weeds—or perhaps... like flowers.

Lucius’s laughter finally began to fade, leaving behind a fond, lingering silence between them.

Then, his voice softened. "When I chose to serve His Majesty... my father disowned me."

Florian’s eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by how easily Lucius dropped something so heavy into the conversation.

"By law, I still carry the family name, but my father no longer acknowledges me as his son. My brother—Lucas—he tried to stop me. He said that if I left, he’d sever our bond as brothers." Lucius chuckled, but there was no humor in it. "Of course... he didn’t mean it. He was angry. Scared, maybe."

Florian’s brows knit together. "But still..."

"I know." Lucius adjusted his glasses, voice distant now. "But I realized something... as long as I remain loyal to His Majesty, I can’t have ties with my family. And my brother—he might still care, but his loyalties are with our bloodline. The rest of our family has always favored Prince Hendrix for the throne. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re still scheming, still trying to push him forward somehow."

Lucius’s eyes met his, sharp and unreadable. "Lucas included."

"Ah..." Florian murmured, the weight of those words settling in.

So they did care for each other—but politics made their relationship impossible.

’That’s kind of sad...’ Florian thought with a soft frown.

And then it hit him—

’What is with this story and its endless family trauma?’

Drizelous had mommy issues.

Lancelot had daddy issues.

Lucius had sibling issues.

And Heinz?

He had all of the above.

’Hah. Kaz, what the hell were you writing?’ Florian sighed inwardly, rubbing the bridge of his nose. ’This is like every cliché drama rolled into one. What’s next? Vengeful princesses seeking revenge because they were taken from their kingdoms?’

...

Wait.

"Be wary of the princesses," Drizelous had said.

Florian’s stomach dropped.

Was that what he meant?

Scarlett had voiced her hatred of being here. The others hadn’t said it outright—but they didn’t seem happy, either. Except Alexandria, maybe.

Why hadn’t he thought of that before?

He had suspected the princesses at one point, but he dismissed it. Because he wanted to trust them. Because he didn’t want to see anyone as his enemy.

But maybe that was naïve.

Each member of the harem was taken from their homeland.

Some forcibly. Some tricked. Some with no way back.

That could fester.

That could turn into something dangerous.

’But... could they hate it here so much that they’d try to kill Heinz? or sabotage me?’ Florian’s heart pounded. ’Wait—what if Heinz is testing them too? What if the test isn’t about being queen—it’s about them? What if he suspects one of them already tri—’

"Your Highness, we’re here," Lucius said, gently interrupting.

Florian froze mid-step.

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