Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight! novel Chapter 357

Chapter 357: ’Fragile Determination.’

"Your Highness, why is your voice so hoarse today? Do you want me to prepare you some tea?" Cashew asked softly, placing a neatly folded towel beside the bath.

Florian was submerged in his new, opulent bathroom—a space more akin to a private spa than anything else. Steam clung to the walls, curling around the marble pillars and glistening mosaics. The tub itself looked more like a personal hot spring, wide and deep enough to swim in, its warm water shimmering with the scent of crushed petals and herbs.

He had been soaking in it ever since Heinz left. The heat helped ease the tension in his muscles, but did nothing for the storm brewing inside his mind.

Thankfully, Heinz had left just moments before Cashew arrived. The thought of being caught like that, tangled in emotions and regrets, was enough to make Florian want to drown himself in the steaming bath.

He still didn’t know how to act around Heinz. Not after that night. Not after everything he had learned, or everything he’d felt.

"Don’t worry, Cashew," Florian said with a strained smile, his fingers gently pressing against his sore neck. "I might’ve just overexerted myself during the presentation yesterday."

He tried not to let his mind wander.

Tried not to remember how Heinz’s mouth had been there—how his voice had been deep and hoarse from whispering against his skin—how his—

Florian clenched his jaw.

’Ugh. Stop thinking about it. Stop thinking about how his...thing was just inside your throat, thrusting like it had every right to be there.’

He shuddered, sinking a little deeper into the water as if he could scrub the memory off his soul.

"Cashew, what are my plans for today?" he asked, scooping up a handful of warm water and letting it run through his lavender curls, hoping the distraction would help.

Cashew tilted his head thoughtfully. "Mhm. His Majesty will summon the guests and the harem to the throne room to announce the final decision of the summit. That means the documents with everyone’s signatures will be presented."

’Right... today’s the last day of the summit. The dukes and their heirs will finally leave.’

"There will also be a farewell celebration. And afterward, you and His Majesty will personally see them off."

Florian nodded, water trailing down his shoulders like molten glass. "Alright. Please prepare my outfit for the day."

"Ah, eh... actually..." Cashew hesitated, his hands wringing the ends of his tunic.

Florian glanced at him. "Hm? What’s wrong?"

"N-Nothing’s wrong, Your Highness! It’s just—you received a note earlier and—"

A sudden, thunderous knock on the outer chamber door made them both flinch. It was so loud it echoed all the way into the bathroom.

"YOUR HIGHNESSSS! IT’S ME, THE AMAZING DRIZELOUS! I’VE BROUGHT YOU YOUR OUTFIT!" a booming, overly enthusiastic voice yelled through the door.

Florian sighed, closing his eyes. "Let me guess... was the note from Drizelous?"

Cashew nodded sheepishly.

Florian let out a soft laugh, the first in hours. "Let him in. I’ll finish my bath. Please let him know."

Cashew bowed. "Of course, Your Highness. Call me if you need anything."

As soon as the door shut behind his loyal servant, Florian slumped back, letting the water rise to his chin. The heat was comforting, but his thoughts remained as turbulent as ever.

’Heinz... told Florian he loved him in their first life.’

’He was drunk when he said it... but drunk people often tell the truth, don’t they? So, does that mean... Heinz really did love him?’

He squeezed his eyes shut.

’It would explain a lot about Florian’s obsession. Heinz probably loved him—maybe even deeply—but was terrified. Was it because Florian reminded him of his mother?’

But the question that haunted Florian the most wasn’t about feelings—it was about memory.

’Why does it seem like Heinz doesn’t even remember? How can he forget something like that?’

’Is this still the novel? Because this... this wasn’t written. Not in the version I read.’

So many inconsistencies. So many fragments of truths and lies, memory and fiction, life and illusion. And none of it was his doing.

This wasn’t a change caused by his transmigration. This was something older. Something buried deep in the original timeline.

’Why... why did Heinz have Florian executed for treason with Hendrix?’

’If he truly loved him, was it jealousy? But no, he let Lucius and Lancelot touch him. He never stopped them.’

The pieces didn’t fit. None of them did. And it wasn’t just frustrating—it was heartbreaking.

’Why are these memories coming back now, at this time? Is it planned?’

’Why won’t Florian just show me everything at once, if he wants me to know him so badly? Why is he gaining more and more control over this body... but still won’t come back?’

"Hah... On top of looking for Heinz’s killer, and figuring out who the hell’s trying to sabotage me, now I have to deal with this mystery—whatever this is—between Heinz and the original Florian. And the memories of me..." He groaned, dragging a hand over his face. "Engaging in sexual acts with another man..."

’At the end of the day, the ones targeting me—the so-called "savior" and the traitor behind the scenes—they have plans. And plans always demand action. They’ll have to reveal themselves sooner or later.’

’And when that happens... Heinz can help me. He still has that connection with the God who helped him.’

’Maybe then... just maybe... I can go back home.’

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