Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight! novel Chapter 593

As Astana had said—it only grew worse.

Florian became cherished… and as far as Asher could see, utterly spoiled.

Every moment Asher tried to carve out for his son was quietly taken away.

Leticia and the girls always seemed to sweep Florian into their arms first—playfully arguing over who would sit with him, who would walk with him, who would keep him company through the day.

Asher often found himself watching from thresholds.

From hallways.

From doorways he never crossed.

'Every day, someone else is raising my son.'

And then—

Then fate twisted the knife even deeper.

Asher became pregnant once more.

Rain.

Their true final child.

The pregnancy was delicate—painful, draining, dangerous enough that the accoucheurs demanded rest at all times.

He was confined to chambers just when Florian needed him most.

So even when Florian called for him…

Even when he reached out…

Asher couldn't answer.

'I can't even be there when he needs me.'

And something inside Asher snapped.

A son was supposed to grow beside his father.

A son wasn't meant to be coddled endlessly.

Men were homemakers—pillars—not fragile ornaments sheltered by those around them.

They were meant to endure.

Mentally.

Emotionally.

They weren't meant to crumble when the world became quiet. They weren't meant to cry just because mother or sisters were busy.

'If he grows like this… he will break the moment the world isn't kind.'

So Asher changed.

He raised Florian the same way he himself had been raised.

Strict.

Isolated.

Unyielding.

With an iron fist.

It hurt—Gods, it hurt—to hear Florian cry because of him.

To see his small body tense whenever Asher approached.

To feel his son recoil under discipline.

It's for his own good.

That's what Asher told himself every night.

'I suffered. I endured. I survived.'

So he must learn to survive too.

Because pain created strength.

And strength was the only thing that mattered in the end.

At least—

That was supposed to be how it worked.

But it didn't.

No matter how hard Asher tried to mold Florian, nothing changed.

And worse—

Asher's authority was constantly undermined.

Leticia softened whatever sternness he laid down. Kazaria—fierce, protective, already carrying the weight of a crown—shielded Florian openly.

Asher was powerless against them.

Against his wife.

Against his eldest daughter.

As much as he tried, Florian was always pulled back into warmth.

Back into comfort.

Back into protection.

'They won't let him struggle…'

They won't let him grow.

Florian was meant to have his own life—to leave the nest, to find a spouse, to build something beyond palace walls.

But to Asher, it no longer seemed possible.

Leticia and the girls—Kazaria most of all—wanted Florian to remain precisely where he was.

Inside the palace.

Unengaged.

Unmarried.

Untouched by hardship.

Unchallenged by the world.

Even when Florian reached the age when marital prospects should have been arranged—

They never once tried.

And to Asher, the truth became unbearable:

'He isn't strong enough to live alone.'

They've made sure of that.

And if Florian never gained strength—

Then he would never leave.

He would never grow.

He would never live.

He would be trapped, cherished—but stagnant.

So when the opportunity came…

When stories spread of the so-called tyrant king who destroyed kingdoms that refused to offer princesses—

Asher recoiled.

He didn't want to surrender anyone.

Not one of his daughters.

Not even—

Not even Florian.

'No. Not my son.'

But the rumors were wrong.

Heinz did ride a dragon—but he didn't descend with threats.

He came to negotiate.

He spoke.

He made demands.

He bargained.

Heinz made promises.

Promises spoken with calm certainty—that whoever was given would receive a proper education, would be granted power and autonomy, would be allowed to study anything they desired, pursue any path they chose.

Freedom.

Far more freedom than any princess could ever hope to have.

And that was all it took.

An idea—quiet, dangerous—took root in Asher's mind.

'Freedom… strength… independence.'

Everything Florian doesn't have here.

Truthfully, with those words alone, Asher wouldn't have hesitated to send one of his daughters. He trusted their strength. He trusted their ability to endure new lands, new expectations, new lives.

They would survive.

They always did.

And more than that—

In terms of succession, duty, and political necessity, two daughters stood above the rest.

Kazaria and Liliana.

Kazaria—the crown princess, the future queen whose presence in Floramatria was irreplaceable. The kingdom itself would fracture without her.

Liliana—the next head of the Thornfield Knights, a born commander already tempered by discipline and command. Losing her would mean weakening the kingdom's shield.

They were pillars.

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