Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight! novel Chapter 195

Chapter 195: ’Levi Has Died’

"Levi... he..."

Florian struggled to get the words out. His throat felt tight, his breath uneven.

The weight of what he had to say bore down on him like an iron chain, wrapping around his lungs, suffocating him. His fingers twitched at his sides as he tried to steady himself, but the reality of the moment made it impossible.

The village chief’s gaze remained locked onto him, unblinking, as though he already knew what Florian was about to say but refused to believe it. The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating, until finally, the old man spoke.

"Are you saying Young Levi has passed away?"

The words seemed to echo, repeating in the air as if time itself had slowed.

Gasps filled the space around them, the villagers reacting in a cascade of disbelief and horror.

"Levi... dead?"

"Impossible."

"How could he die?"

The murmurs spread like ripples in a pond, their voices breaking beneath the weight of shock.

Some staggered back, hands pressed to their mouths, eyes glistening with unshed tears. Others stood frozen in place, their faces pale as though the life had been drained from them in an instant.

Florian swallowed hard, forcing himself to nod. The confirmation hit the villagers like a final blow, and in that moment, the collective sorrow of the people was nearly tangible.

’It seems everyone here really knows and cares about Levi... just who was he to them?’

The village chief, though composed, could not hide the flicker of sorrow in his aged eyes. His hand, though steady, clenched his wooden staff a little tighter, knuckles whitening under the strain.

"How... did it happen?" His voice, though controlled, carried a weight of grief that made Florian’s heart ache.

Florian hesitated, his fingers curling into fists before he forced himself to answer.

"In truth, Levi, he..." He exhaled shakily. "A week ago, a member of the king’s harem was kidnapped by rogues while on the way here."

A fresh wave of murmurs spread through the crowd.

"What?"

"Is that why they never came?" A woman asked, her voice filled with both fear and anger.

Florian nodded. But something didn’t sit right with him.

’Didn’t Heinz or at least Lucius send word to them? Why do they sound so unaware?’

He cast a glance at Heinz, who remained motionless behind him. The disguised king had not spoken a word, his presence shadowed in silence.

Florian turned back to the villagers. "Levi... he was the one who helped that member escape." He took a breath. "He happened to meet the prince and risked his life to save him."

His voice wavered as his mind conjured the image of Levi’s broken body—the grotesque sight of Arthur’s magic tearing through his flesh. Florian felt a shiver run down his spine, the memory as vivid as if it had happened only moments ago.

"The prince learned of Levi’s origins—of this village, of his sick sister. And so, the king ordered us to find her... to help her."

For a brief moment, silence filled the air.

Then, it shattered.

The tension in the crowd thickened, shifting from grief to something sharper, darker.

At first, it was just a whisper.

"The king?"

Then, a scoff.

"He couldn’t even bother to come here himself?"

And then, rage.

"After years of ignoring us, now he suddenly cares?"

Florian’s pulse quickened as the atmosphere became suffocating, hostility radiating from the crowd. This wasn’t just grief. This was fury.

A man in the crowd clenched his fists, his voice shaking with suppressed rage. "What does he want now, huh? To act like a hero? After all this time, when we’ve been suffering on our own?"

"Is what?" A man snapped, stepping forward, his ragged clothes hanging loosely over his frail frame. "Living in his goddamn palace while we rot? While our people die?" His voice cracked, raw with pain.

’They really hate Heinz.’

"The other villages used to help, but now they are suffering too!"

"The little water we do get is barely enough!"

Florian’s chest ached. His eyes darted across the villagers, truly seeing them for the first time. The sunken faces, the bony fingers, the sickly pallor of their skin—these people weren’t just struggling. They were dying.

’Levi was the only one strong enough to leave, to seek help.’

’And even then... even then, he still helped me.’