Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight! novel Chapter 612

Florian stared down at the food.

The honey bread looked exactly the way it always did, even though it had been prepared by a different kitchen, by hands that were not familiar to him.

Soft. Warm. Sweet.

Everything about it was inviting.

His eyes told him it was perfect.

The soup beside it shimmered gently, steam rising in slow, delicate curls that carried the faint floral scent of frumpkin flowers.

So why did his stomach twist tighter the longer he looked at it?

'I don't understand,' Florian thought, his brows knitting together. 'I've eaten this so many times before.'

He had grown up with this food.

He knew it.

Trusted it.

Carefully, he lifted the spoon. The metal felt heavier than it should have as he dipped it into the soup and brought up a small amount.

Just that simple motion made his throat tighten.

Then the scent hit him properly.

Not rotten.

Not sour.

Nothing that should have raised an alarm.

And yet.

It was just… wrong.

His hand froze halfway to his mouth.

A sharp wave of nausea surged through him without warning.

His chest tightened painfully, his breath catching as his stomach lurched.

Florian swallowed hard, forcing the feeling down before it could turn into something worse.

'No. No, no,' he thought, panic prickling along his spine. 'I can't. I really can't.'

Slowly, he lowered the spoon back to the table.

His fingers trembled despite his efforts to steady them, and he pulled his hand away as if the bowl itself might make him sick.

Across the table, Eldrick noticed.

He leaned forward slightly, concern flickering across his face. "Prince Florian?" he asked gently. "Is everything alright? You haven't touched your food."

Florian forced himself to look up. His expression was calm and composed, but it took effort to keep it that way.

"I'm… fine," he said after a moment. "I just don't feel very well all of a sudden."

Hendrix frowned immediately, his gaze snapping to the untouched dishes. "Is something wrong with the food?"

The way he said it made the air shift.

Not loud. Not accusing.

But alert.

The dining hall seemed to tighten around them.

Lancelot was on his feet in an instant.

"Let me see that, Your Highness."

His chair scraped sharply against the floor as he stood, one hand already moving to the hilt of his sword.

His posture was rigid, protective, eyes sweeping the table and then the servants.

"What?" Eldrick said, startled. "Sir Lancelot, please. Prince Hendrix, there is nothing wrong. We would never do something to Prince Florian."

"Can't be too sure," Lancelot replied curtly, not taking his eyes off the table.

Juno stepped forward at once, her hands clenched at her sides, her expression firm and offended.

The old maid shook her head as she scrambled to write on paper what she wanted to say.

"Nothing wrong with food," she wrote quickly. "Personally oversaw prep. I assure."

But Florian didn't feel safe.

The nausea still churned in his stomach, heavier now, as if his body were trying to warn him of something his mind couldn't see.

'I'm not imagining this,' he thought, breathing slowly through his nose. 'Something is wrong. It has to be.'

"I apologize if we're suspecting, but...I've eaten this exact dish before," Florian said quietly, his voice steady despite the discomfort. "Many times. It has never made me feel like this."

Lancelot's gaze snapped back to him immediately.

That was all he needed.

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