Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight! novel Chapter 565

The rogue moved before Florian could react—grabbing Cashew by the collar and yanking him off the ground. The boy let out a strangled cry, kicking, clawing, fighting uselessly against the man's grip.

'Fuck.'

"Let him go!" Florian shouted, lunging forward—but the man's other hand shot out and seized his wrist, twisting until pain shot up his arm. Florian gasped, biting back a cry.

The princesses screamed. Their voices cut through the air—sharp, breaking, terrified. Athena's shrieked his name; Scarlett's voice cracked with pleading. Their cries blended with Cashew's, with the sound of struggle, with the sound of fear.

"Stop struggling," the rogue hissed, his grip tightening cruelly. "Makes it easier if you just give up."

But Florian couldn't. Wouldn't.

He jerked his arm free, nails scraping against the man's armor, desperate. The rogue shoved him hard, and he stumbled backward, nearly falling.

Cashew seized that single moment—sinking his teeth deep into the man's arm.

The man roared, striking him across the face so hard the sound echoed. Cashew hit the floor, a small, broken sound escaping his throat.

"Cashew!" Florian dropped to his knees, gathering him up. His vision swam through tears. His hands shook as he cupped the boy's face. "It's okay, it's okay, I've got you, I've got you—" But his voice cracked halfway through, the words splintering into a sob.

The rogue laughed again, wiping blood from his bitten arm, the sound thick with mockery. "You two really don't learn, huh?" He lifted his knife, the torchlight dancing along the blade. "Fine. You'll learn together, then."

Florian's heart hammered in his chest, too loud, too fast. 'I can't stop him. I can't—' The thought clawed at his mind. His magic, his strength—it all felt useless. He didn't have the power to save anyone.

Not Cashew. Not the princesses. Not even himself.

And then—he saw them.

A faint shimmer.

Soft blue light drifted across the smoky air, flickering like candle flames. His butterflies.

They fluttered through the haze—slow, graceful, unreal—circling above him like drifting stars. Their wings glowed faintly, reflecting off the marble, off the blood. Each flap sent ripples of light across the dark room.

Florian froze. His breath caught mid-sob. The world—the screaming, the chaos, the blade—everything faded until all that was left was that familiar blue glow.

'My butterflies…'

They floated around him, gentle and eerily still, as if waiting. Watching.

'What are they doing…?'

He blinked, confusion breaking through the panic.

And then it struck him—like a spark igniting through the haze of fear.

A face surfaced in his mind—one he hadn't seen in what felt like a lifetime.

That same haunting smile. Cold. Knowing. Beautiful in a way that terrified him.

"Did you know they're poisonous?" Alexandria's voice whispered through his head, melodic and cruel, as if she stood right behind him.

Florian's heart skipped a beat.

The butterflies… were poisonous.

He had forgotten. Or maybe—no—he had chosen to forget. But now, as they floated there—silent, patient, their faint blue light flickering like dying stars—he knew.

They were waiting.

Waiting for him.

Florian's chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, tears streaking down his face as he lifted his gaze to the glowing swarm above.

His hands trembled at his sides, but for the first time that night, it wasn't from fear.

'They're waiting… for me.'

The rogue loomed over them, his knife raised, the blade glinting above Cashew's trembling form. The boy's fingers clutched at Florian's sleeve, whispering his name through choked sobs.

The air was thick—too heavy, too still.

And then Florian whispered, voice hoarse but steady.

"…Kill him."

"Hm?" The rogue turned, his grin returning. "Did you say any—"

He never finished.

The butterflies moved.

In a single breath, they surged forward—a silent storm of blue light. They swirled around him, wings slicing through the air like whispers, surrounding him completely.

"Huh? What the fuck?" The man stumbled back, swinging his blade through the swarm, but it passed through empty air. The butterflies didn't scatter.

They only pressed closer—landing softly on his neck, his arms, his face.

All of them.

He laughed nervously, jerking his head. "What the hell are they gonna do? Tickle me—"

Then he stopped.

His eyes widened.

"Fuck… what…" His voice cracked, panic bleeding into his words. His hand clawed at his throat, fingers trembling violently. "What the fuck—what THE FUCK?!"

He started to convulse, his skin breaking out in a cold, sickly sheen. The veins along his neck pulsed dark, spreading rapidly under his flesh like ink through paper.

The butterflies lifted away, scattering into the air, leaving behind a man who now dropped to his knees—choking, gasping, his blade clattering uselessly to the floor.

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