Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight! novel Chapter 570

"Florian, what are you doing up? You should be resting."

Heinz was already moving before he finished speaking—his chair scraping lightly against the marble floor as he stood, his steps brisk, almost frantic.

He circled his desk, ignoring the startled glance Serapion threw him as the older man noted how sharply the king's entire aura shifted the moment Florian appeared.

The air that had been heavy with restrained hostility toward the priest softened instantly—if only slightly—but Heinz didn't care how it looked.

All he saw was Florian.

The prince looked fragile, painfully so. His pale skin was almost translucent under the faint morning light spilling through the window, his lips dry, and faint shadows darkened the skin beneath his eyes.

Every slow, deliberate step he took seemed to take effort, and Heinz's chest tightened with each one.

'Why is he here?' Heinz thought, frowning as he reached him, gently taking hold of his arm to steady him. "Careful," he murmured, his voice quieter now, almost pleading.

But the moment his hand touched him, Florian tensed.

The reaction was subtle, but Heinz felt it—the faint stiffening of muscles beneath his fingers, the quiet, shaky breath Florian took as though trying not to flinch.

It was enough to make his heart twist.

'He's wary of me.'

He didn't need to wonder why. The words Florian had thrown at him last night still echoed in his mind, sharp and cold enough to draw blood.

"How long do I have to suffer because of you?"

Heinz's breath caught. His hand slipped away as if burned.

'I… shouldn't make him feel uncomfortable.'

He took a single step back, trying to regain the distance Florian clearly wanted. His voice came out quieter, steadier. "You should go back to the infirmary and keep resting. I'm only speaking with—"

"I want to know the message."

Florian's tone cut through his sentence like a knife—bitter, tired, but firm. His dull pink eyes met Heinz's, and for the first time, Heinz saw anger there.

Not fiery rage—something worse. Cold resentment.

"In the first place," Florian continued, his voice trembling but resolute, "the message was meant for me. So why," he paused, his jaw tightening, "why are you the one listening to it?"

Heinz froze. "Florian, I wasn't—"

"Or were you planning to hide this from me again?"

The words struck harder than any blow could.

Heinz's throat tightened, guilt crawling up his chest. "No, I—Florian, I just…"

He faltered. What could he say? That he didn't trust Florian to handle the truth? That he was terrified the truth would destroy him the way it was slowly destroying Heinz?

Because deep down—he knew.

If the message was as bad as he suspected… he would've hidden it.

Even if it meant lying again.

Florian didn't even spare him another look. Instead, he brushed past him, each step slow but deliberate, his weakened form carrying a surprising weight. He stopped before the priest, his posture straight, his voice calm but detached.

"Good day, Father Serapion," Florian greeted, tone polite but lacking warmth. "It's a pleasure to meet you in private this time. I do hope the recent… unfortunate events haven't caused you too much trouble."

Serapion's lips curled into a faint smile. "Believe it or not, I had already prepared my brethren—and the new royal family—for the possibility of something like this." He placed a hand over his chest, bowing slightly. "The Gods always make sure we are as safe as we can be."

Heinz's jaw clenched at the mention of the Gods again, but Florian only nodded, his expression unreadable.

"If anything," Serapion continued, his tone lightening, "I hope you are the one feeling well, Young Prince. It was your birthday, and it seems the celebration didn't go as planned. You even fainted, didn't you?"

Florian didn't reply, his eyes flickering briefly downward.

Serapion tilted his head, studying him closely, then added with a soft chuckle, "As much as I would love to present your gift now… should you really be up and about?"

The question hung in the air, polite on the surface—but something in Serapion's tone made it feel like more than simple concern.

Heinz couldn't explain it—why he was the one suddenly feeling uneasy.

He had faced gods, monsters, and wars without flinching, yet right now, standing a few steps away from Florian, he felt his chest tighten with something unfamiliar.

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