Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight! novel Chapter 552

"Why aren't you happy?"

Hendrix's question cut through the night air.

It was simple. Too simple. Yet it lodged itself inside Florian's chest like a blade.

His breath caught. His fingers twitched against his arms, clutching himself tighter.

He knew—he knew—Hendrix was asking him as if he were the original Florian. Hendrix thought he was speaking to that Florian, the one from the past. The one he had loved.

And yet…

Florian didn't fully believe that.

The way Hendrix asked—it wasn't soft, but it wasn't harsh either. It carried no pity, no edge of accusation.

It was just… real.

Steady.

It sounded less like he was speaking to a ghost of someone else and more like he was asking him.

As Florian.

As himself.

It unsettled him. Confused him. But it also made something stir in his chest that he didn't want to acknowledge.

'Why does it feel like he's really asking me? Not him… me…'

Florian wet his lips, his voice trembling as he found himself whispering, "Hendrix, do you—"

BOOM.

The ground trembled.

Florian flinched, words dying in his throat as the deafening sound ripped through the night. Both he and Hendrix whipped their heads toward the source.

His eyes widened.

Flames.

Large, violent flames, bursting like a monster unfurling from the palace's heart.

From the ballroom.

"What the hell?" Florian gasped, his whole body seizing at the sight of fire clawing its way skyward, painting the windows with hellish orange.

"It's coming from the ballroom," Hendrix said sharply, his voice low with panic, his eyes just as wide. He froze for only a second before he whispered, almost to himself, "Mom…"

Then he moved.

Without hesitation, Hendrix grabbed Florian's wrist, yanking him hard enough to snap him from his shock.

Florian stumbled, heart racing, mind blank. 'What is happening? Are we being attacked? Is it… is it Heinz? What—'

"Let's go."

Hendrix's tone was clipped, urgent.

"W-Where are we going?" Florian asked, letting himself be pulled, his legs scrambling to keep up.

"We're going to see what's happening," Hendrix muttered, his voice steady but his grip unrelenting. He was calm, but beneath that calm Florian could feel the urgency—could feel the weight of what was really pushing him forward.

Monica.

She was still inside.

Within the span of a heartbeat, Hendrix gripped Florian tighter—and the world lurched.

The cold air vanished. The garden, the moonlight, the quiet—gone.

Florian's stomach twisted violently as the ground shifted beneath him, his vision warping, the world bending in on itself until—

They reappeared.

Heat. Smoke. Screams.

Florian staggered, dizzy from the teleportation, clutching at his chest to steady himself. His vision swam for a moment, the acrid stench of burning wood and silk flooding his nose.

He blinked hard, forcing the world into focus—and what he saw made his throat seize.

The ballroom.

Florian froze, his body locking in place as chaos tore past them. He could hear the sobbing of frightened children, the frantic prayers of older nobles, the rasp of soldiers trying to direct the flow of panicked bodies.

The halls that had once been polished and pristine were now nothing but a conduit of terror.

"If they're letting the nobles out through this way…" Hendrix's tone was dark, assessing, even as he pressed an arm firmly against Florian to shield him from the trampling chaos, "…then the main entrance to the ballroom must already be blocked."

Florian's eyes widened, his breath hitching. "Blocked? Then… this isn't just an accident, is it?"

His voice was shaky.

Hendrix didn't answer right away, his jaw tightening as he scanned the wave of people fleeing past them. The silence said more than words could.

Florian's heart hammered painfully in his chest. 'Is it… rebels? Did they sneak into the palace somehow?'

The thought tore through him, leaving his stomach hollow.

Just moments ago—he had been crumbling in the garden, sobbing over Heinz's confession, his heart torn apart. And now—now he was standing in the middle of chaos, smoke filling his lungs, the screams of terrified nobles shaking the palace walls.

'What the hell is happening? How did everything change so fast?'

His tears from earlier hadn't even dried yet.

And suddenly—he wasn't sure if he was more terrified of what was behind the fire… or of what waited for him when he inevitably saw Heinz again.

"I don't see my mother. I..." Hendrix exhaled sharply, his brows drawn tight as he scanned the sea of panicked nobles and servants pushing past them. "You should follow them, go with the evacuation route. I'll look for my mother—"

"No," Florian cut him off, his voice trembling but firm. "I want to come."

Hendrix turned to him, his jaw tightening. "It might be dangerous. I understand you're curious, but—"

Both of them froze mid-breath.

From the corner of their vision, something massive tore through the smoke-filled corridor. A shadow. A blur. Too big to be human.

It whooshed past them with the speed of an arrow, the air pressure rippling against their skin. The floor shook beneath their feet, and the faint scent of burning intensified.

Florian's heart dropped into his stomach.

'Was that...?'