Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight! novel Chapter 548

It felt like Heinz's world came crashing down all over again.

The walls he had built inside himself—stone by stone, lie by lie—crumbled in an instant.

All the days he had forced himself to move forward, to harden, to bury what little humanity he had left… undone with a single revelation.

And the worst part?

The memories returned.

They clawed back into his mind like jagged glass.

He remembered.

The day of the execution. The day of his Florian's execution.

He had spoken his final words, voice breaking even as he stood before the blade.

And now Heinz understood.

"I am pregnant… with your baby."

The words echoed in his skull like a death knell. His chest seized. His throat tightened.

Tears spilled down his face before he could stop them.

He remembered crying at Florian's grave, the rain soaking through his clothes as though the world itself was mourning.

He remembered the taste of alcohol, bitter and endless, drowning himself night after night in a haze so heavy he prayed never to wake again.

He remembered begging the gods—or anyone—to take the memories away.

Because the truth had been too painful to endure.

His Florian.

His poor child.

Both dead. Both murdered. By his own order.

Because he hadn't listened. Because he had chosen anger over trust. Because of his selfish, desperate fear.

And that heartbreak—so deep, so consuming—had led him to ruin. To weakness. To poison slipped into a simple cup of tea. That was why he had died without even knowing who had killed him. He hadn't cared. He had welcomed it.

Everything made sense now. And the more it did, the more it broke him. His vision blurred, his chest heaving, his hands trembling violently.

A sound cut through the devastation.

A bitter, icy snicker.

He looked up—and froze.

Florian was staring at him with eyes colder than winter.

"Now… who's crying?" Florian's voice was sharp, merciless, every word striking like a blade. His lips curled into something that wasn't quite a smile, but wasn't pity either. "Everything you're feeling now? Florian felt worse. He lived worse. Every single day of it—because of you. Because of your selfishness. Your stupidity."

The words gutted him.

"So don't you dare," Florian continued, voice shaking but unrelenting. "Don't you dare say you loved him. And don't you dare say you love me."

He turned away.

The motion was simple, but it cut deeper than any sword.

Heinz's throat burned. His body screamed to move, to reach out, to grab him, to beg. But he couldn't. Not when he saw that face. That expression. The cold anger, the broken sorrow, the finality.

He was rooted to the spot, as if shackled by the very weight of his own sins.

Florian's shoulders trembled, betraying the sobs he was holding back. He walked slowly, deliberately, each step hammering the truth deeper into Heinz's chest. At the doorway, he paused, glancing back only for a second. His lips parted—about to say something.

But he didn't.

He swallowed it back, his jaw tightening, and walked inside without another word.

Leaving Heinz alone.

The balcony was suddenly too vast, too empty.

As soon as Florian's presence vanished, Heinz's legs buckled beneath him. He dropped to the floor, the weight of his body too much to bear.

His gloved hands shook before his eyes, blurred by relentless tears that would not stop, no matter how hard he bit down on his lip, no matter how hard he tried to swallow the sound clawing out of his throat.

The mighty King of Concordia broke, hunched and trembling, his sobs torn raw into the night air.

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