Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight! novel Chapter 608

Florian.

Florian.

Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian.

Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian.

Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian.

Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian.

Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian.

Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian.

Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian.

Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian.

Florian.

Florian.

Florian.

The name echoed in his mind like a wound being pressed again and again.

Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian.

It drowned out everything else—the sharp gasps of shock, the voices calling his name, the ripple of fear spreading through the crowd around him.

Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian.

'Stop,' Heinz told himself weakly.

Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian. Florian.

But the more he tried to push it away, the louder it became.

Florian.

Florian.

"Florian…"

A single tear slipped free, trailing down Heinz's cheek as he walked forward, cutting through the crowd without seeing any of them.

He didn't know who brushed past him. He didn't care who stared.

None of it mattered.

All that existed was the ache in his chest, deep and unrelenting.

Pain.

No—this was worse than pain.

This was sorrow. Heavy, suffocating sorrow that pressed down on his lungs until breathing felt like effort.

"Florian… Florian…" Heinz whispered under his breath, the name trembling as it left him.

His mind betrayed him, filling with memories he hadn't asked for.

Florian's smile, bright and unguarded.

His laugh, soft and startled, like he was always surprised by his own happiness.

The way his ears and cheeks would flush red from the simplest touch, the smallest teasing gesture.

'He was always so easy to fluster,' Heinz thought fondly, but at the same time bitter .

Regret flooded him, sharp and merciless.

He had truly believed he would be fine.

That he could endure Florian leaving, that he could be patient. That being left behind with Hendrix wouldn't matter.

He told himself he was okay with it.

'It's only four days,' he had reasoned. 'I can give him that.'

He trusted Florian.

Even if he didn't trust Hendrix.

He trusted Lancelot too, trusted that the knight would do everything in his power to keep Florian safe.

To keep him from getting too close to Hendrix.

Four days.

That was nothing.

The original Florian and the one he loved now had endured far longer. They had suffered in silence for years.

'What's four days compared to that?' Heinz had told himself.

He wanted to give Florian space.

He wanted to give him freedom.

He wanted to be better.

But standing there now, with tears slipping freely down his face, Heinz realized something with crushing clarity.

The suffering hadn't stopped.

Not for Florian.

Not for him.

And he didn't know how to bear it anymore.

"Florian…" he whispered again, voice breaking.

More tears followed, falling without restraint as the weight of everything he had lost—everything.

Heinz shut himself inside his office the moment Florian left.

He had every intention of working.

He told himself he would focus on his duties as king.

On tracking down that damned man, Charles, and the red dragon. On reviewing reports. On finalizing Florian's village project.

He had plans.

But exhaustion caught up to him.

Days of tension. Sleepless nights. The truth about the original Florian.

The crushing guilt that came with realizing how deeply he had hurt both the man he loved and the version of him that existed now.

'I did this,' Heinz thought bitterly. 'I let them suffer.'

The weight of it pressed down on him harder than any battle ever had.

And without meaning to—

He dozed off.

It was the first time in his twenty-one years that his body simply gave in.

The first time he truly fell asleep.

Heinz had never dreamed.

Not once.

As long as he could remember, sleep had always been the same. Darkness. Silence. He would close his eyes, then open them again.

No images. No voices.

Just nothing.

But this time—

This time was different.

Darkness still greeted him at first.

Then light.

Then warmth.

And when Heinz opened his eyes—

He was no longer in his office.

And what he was seeing wasn't a memory.

It wasn't the past.

It was something else entirely.

A future.

One that should have been.

"Daddy!"

"Mummy, look—!"

Heinz turned at the same time Florian did, and the sight stole the breath from his chest.

The painting was detailed.

And then Heinz actually saw it.

His breath caught.

His heart stopped.

It was Florian.

Kneeling.

His hands bound. His head bowed.

A crowd loomed behind him, faceless and dark. And standing before him was the raised blade, frozen in the moment just before it fell.

'No,' Heinz thought. 'No, no, no.'

The world seemed to spin.

Florian was still smiling, still praising them, unaware.

But Heinz couldn't hear anything anymore.

'What...is this...what...' Heinz was confused, he looked at Florian's happy face, he looks at his sons' expressions.

"Heian… Herion…" Heinz's voice came out strained. "What is this? Why would you paint this?"

Herion tilted his head, looking up at him with a wide smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Mhm?" he said innocently. "What's wrong, Daddy?"

"You look scared," Heian added, stepping closer. His dark purple hair swayed gently with the breeze. "Don't you like our painting?"

Heinz swallowed hard.

"What…?" he asked again, his voice barely holding together.

"It was the day we all died," the twins said together, their voices calm. Too calm.

"Mummy," Heian continued, his tone soft, almost gentle, "me, and Herion."

They walked closer to Heinz, their small footsteps quiet against the ground.

"This could've been our life," Herion said, still smiling, "if that hadn't happened."

"We could've been happy," Heian added.

"And Mummy would've been alive."

Something inside Heinz shattered.

His knees gave out, and he collapsed onto the ground, the world spinning as his breath came in short, broken gasps. He reached out toward them with trembling hands.

"I—I'm sorry," he choked out. "I'm so sorry. I—"

"We know," they said at the same time.

"We know you're sorry, Daddy."

They stepped close enough that Heinz could feel them. Small hands reached up, warm and real, each twin placing a hand against his cheeks.

Heinz shook, tears streaming freely now.

Heian's red eyes met his.

"Don't mess it up again."

And then Heinz woke up.

His chest ached. His heart felt torn open, raw and exposed.

Pain lingered, heavy and suffocating, even as reality settled back in.

He found himself standing in the garden.

The same garden he had always hated. The garden that belonged to his father and Monica.

A place he had avoided for years because of what it represented.

But after that dream—after seeing what could have been—something inside him shifted.

The hatred was still there.

But now it was buried beneath something else.

Loss.

A deep, hollow loss that settled in his chest, quiet and endless.

And for the first time, Heinz was afraid of something far worse than regret.

He was afraid that what he had lost… was something he could never get back.