Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight! novel Chapter 566

'He used the butterflies to poison them… and then finished them off?'

Heinz's eyes widened as he watched the small, blue creatures flutter lazily around Florian—glowing faintly in the dim light, innocent, beautiful, deadly.

Their wings glimmered like glass, the faint trails they left behind almost serene, as if the massacre moments ago had never happened.

Florian stood among the bodies, motionless.

He didn't look afraid.

He didn't look remorseful either.

And Heinz… he wasn't sure if he wanted him to be.

He didn't want to see guilt in those eyes—not for killing the men who had tried to take him.

Not for surviving.

But even as Florian stood tall, there was a tremor in his frame—subtle, almost invisible. His shoulders shook, whether from adrenaline or something deeper Heinz couldn't tell.

The room still stank of blood and iron, of fear and smoke. The walls flickered under the glow of dying torches.

Heinz took a careful step forward, his boots brushing against the corpses littering the floor. The sound of squelching blood under his heel made his chest ache harder.

He approached slowly, cautiously—raising a hand, wanting to reach him.

To comfort him.

To do something.

Because looking at Florian like this, drenched in blood, trembling yet trying to stand tall—Heinz's heart broke in ways he didn't think were possible.

"Florian…" Heinz's voice was soft, raw, fragile.

But the moment his fingers brushed the air between them—Florian flinched.

He took a step back, eyes flickering up to him, wide but unreadable.

Heinz froze. His hand lingered midair, empty.

"Florian…" he whispered again, quieter this time.

The prince finally spoke, his voice quiet, cracked, but filled with something heavier than anger—weariness.

"We've been wondering… haven't we?" he said slowly, his gaze distant, his tone trembling. "Why me? From the start, I've wondered that. Why me?"

He swallowed, his voice faltering as he continued. "Why did Lucius have to get hurt? Why are there dead people trampled outside the ballroom?" He looked away, his shoulders shaking. "I've already told you… this is exactly why I rejected you."

The words pierced deeper than any blade.

"Florian, I have to take you to Lys—" Heinz tried to keep his tone even, desperate to steer the conversation away from where it was going.

If he didn't—if he let himself think about what Florian had just said—he knew he might break. Right there.

In front of him.

He couldn't. Not when Florian still needed him safe.

But then Florian looked up.

And Heinz stopped breathing.

His face was splattered with blood—streaks of crimson cutting across pale skin.

But it was his eyes that shattered Heinz completely. Those trembling eyes, glimmering beneath the torchlight, as a single tear slid down his cheek.

"How long," Florian whispered, voice trembling, raw, and tired, "do I have to suffer because of you?"

Heinz's hand twitched. He opened his mouth, but no words came.

His throat burned.

He didn't know what to say.

He didn't even know if he deserved to say anything.

Because it was true.

All of it.

He had been selfish—he could see that now, clearer than ever. For weeks, months, maybe even years, he'd buried the guilt under anger and blame.

He had cursed the original Florian for sleeping with Hendrix—told himself it was betrayal, cowardice.

But it wasn't.

It was him.

He was the one who never listened.

The one who doubted.

The one who killed the person who had loved him—and the child they had never met.

And now… fate had given him another chance.

A cruel, twisted chance.

And this new Florian—the one before him now—looked at him with the same pain, the same sadness, the same despair.

Heinz felt it—his punishment wasn't over.

Charles's words, the Gods' warnings—they all made sense now.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify