Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight! novel Chapter 360

Chapter 360: ’Don’t Overthink’

"Good morning. I am glad we’re all gathered here again," Heinz began, his deep voice resonating through the throne room like polished steel—smooth, but cold. He sat tall on his throne, regal and unmoving, his expression carved into neutrality, even as his words carried polite warmth.

"I greet the dukes and your heirs, hoping that your stay in the palace has been nothing less than pleasant."

There was a pause as his eyes slowly swept the room, a king surveying his chessboard.

"To the princesses," he continued, "who I heard entertained the sons and daughter of the dukes while the presentations were ongoing. And of course, to the head servants, Lucius and Delilah, who ensured our guests were properly accommodated. And to the commander of knights, Lancelot, for guaranteeing their safety."

Florian stood stiffly beside Heinz’s throne, hands folded in front of him, his posture neat but visibly unsure. The eyes in the room weren’t on him—but he was watching them.

He scanned the sea of expressions carefully. The princesses, to his relief, looked genuinely pleased. Smiling. Laughing softly amongst themselves.

Even Alexandria, who had once looked at him with such confusion and heartbreak before, now offered him a faint, surprisingly gentle glance—even though he stood dressed in the signature black and deep crimson of the Obsidian royal family.

’So... she’s accepted it. Or at least doesn’t think much of it. That’s... a relief.’ Though, there was still something to feel guilty over that he had decided not to think about. Especially right now.

Across the room, something else caught his attention.

Scarlett and Athena sat beside each other.

’Huh? That’s new.’ Florian tilted his head slightly. The two rarely interacted in public settings—always choosing to remain close to their own princess friends. ’It seems there’s progression between them. That’s cute.’

He didn’t have time to dwell. Delilah was standing where she always did—at the princesses’ side. Her arms folded, her lips in a tight line. Her stare didn’t waver from Florian, and her distaste radiated like an icy wind.

’Still hates me, I see.’ Florian sighed inwardly. ’She’s probably wondering how long I’ll last here before I get thrown out.’

He turned his attention to the dukes. Most of them seemed pleased—relaxed even. Their expressions were calm, the air between them and Heinz no longer cold or tense.

’So... the drinking went well, huh? Must’ve done the trick.’ Florian bit back a smile. ’Not that I got to find out how it ended. Thanks for that, Heinz.’

But not everyone looked pleased.

Alexandrius and Alaric both sat stiffly, their expressions sour, barely hiding their annoyance behind halfhearted courtesies. Alexandrius especially. His gaze kept darting toward Lancelot—sharp, bitter.

’Right.’ The memory surfaced like a wound.

Lancelot had come to Florian’s room late that night, shoulders trembling, voice barely holding together. He had been on the verge of tears. His mother was dying—but he couldn’t go to her.

Alexandrius had issued a cruel demand: unless Lancelot could find a way to get his older brother, Andrew, accepted into the royal knights, he would be barred from seeing her.

’I need to do something about that,’ Florian reminded himself, his jaw tightening. ’Soon.’

The heirs—sons and daughter of the dukes—looked cheerful enough. Most of them were engaged in polite conversation, smiling at the princesses as Heinz spoke. Their interactions seemed natural, not forced.

’That’s good. That’s... really good.’

Heinz had initially doubted the idea of having the dukes bring their children to the summit. But Florian had insisted. If Heinz couldn’t fix the fractured relationships with the current generation of dukes, then they needed to start building new bridges—ones that would last.

’That’s why I pushed for this,’ he thought, watching a young heir bow slightly to Scarlett, who actually smiled. ’So that when their time comes, they’ll already have a bond with their king. So the kingdom won’t be so divided anymore.’

He let out a quiet breath.

But then... his gaze shifted. His smile faded.

Lucius and Lancelot stood silently, away from the center. Their heads were bowed low, their forms stiff with tension. Neither of them had looked up once since the start of the gathering.

They looked utterly broken.

’...They’re still like that.’

The fire they carried earlier—their defiant resolve, their certainty—was gone now. Their eyes were empty. Lifeless. Shadows lingered beneath them, and the bruises left by Heinz’s magic still hadn’t completely faded, even under their uniforms.

’They’re trying not to draw attention...’

Florian’s chest tightened.

’I really wonder what was going through their heads.’

He shifted his weight slightly, clenching his hands behind his back. His eyes darted toward Heinz, whose expression remained cool, unreadable.

’Especially after Heinz’s verdict.’

"Fine," Heinz said at last, his voice as sharp as fractured ice. With a simple motion of his hand, the invisible pressure binding Lucius and Lancelot shattered, releasing them from the torment of his magic.

Their bodies sagged almost imperceptibly, like strings had been cut—but they didn’t move, didn’t even lift their heads. Blood still trickled slowly from the thin wounds on their faces, crimson against pale skin and white uniforms.

Florian wanted to sigh in relief, to reach out and check on them, but the look in Heinz’s eyes rooted him to the spot.

Those eyes were still glowing faintly—frigid and merciless.

"However," Heinz continued coldly, "once the summit is over and the perpetrator is handed over to me, you both will spend two weeks in the dungeons for this insolence."

Florian’s heart dropped.

"You failed to protect Florian—more than once. You only found the perpetrator because they confessed. And now," his voice turned sharp, laced with scorn, "you make things even more complicated by withholding the truth and refusing to explain yourselves."

Every word landed like a blow, not just to Lucius and Lancelot—but to Florian, too.

Heinz then turned to him, eyes settling with unsettling calm. "And since it is you who wants to hear them out," he said, "do not even dare to overthink. This was your choice."

Florian blinked. ’What does he mean by that?’ he thought, stomach tightening. ’Overthink what? What choice? I’m just—’

But his thoughts were cut off when he looked back at Lucius and Lancelot. Neither of them spoke. Neither of them protested. They didn’t even flinch at the mention of the dungeons. Their silence was deafening—and heavy.

They had accepted it.

Lucius’ jaw was clenched, a red line still bleeding slowly down his cheek, while Lancelot’s knuckles were white as he gripped his own uniform, body trembling ever so slightly.

Florian thought, a pang hitting his chest. ’They’re just... taking it.’

At that moment, the soft growling from Azure ceased. The small blue dragon, who had been perched nearby with wings spread and tail curled tensely, finally relaxed. It gave Heinz one last glance before taking flight, landing smoothly on the king’s broad shoulder.

"I’m finished here," Heinz said, his tone final. "Drizelous, come to my room. I would prefer to dress there."

The tailor gave a slight nod and turned silently toward the door.

"And Florian—" Heinz added, not even turning to look back at him. "Get yourself prepared. We’ll leave for the throne room once you’re ready."

Florian instinctively reached for Heinz’s arm again, as if hoping to stop him—to say something, to plead maybe—but Heinz pulled away with a cold smoothness, as if the touch had never been there at all.

Even Azure ignored him, choosing to stay on Heinz’s shoulder without so much as a flicker of interest despite the fact that he stayed with Florian for almost three weeks.

Drizelous hesitated at the threshold. Then, with quiet dignity, he turned back to Florian and offered a respectful bow—subtle, almost apologetic—before following Heinz out of the room, the heavy doors closing behind them with a low, echoing thud.

Silence.

Florian stood there, frozen, his hand still half-raised, as if trying to hold onto something that had already slipped through his fingers.

Lucius and Lancelot remained kneeling, injured, humiliated, and now sentenced. Cashew was standing nearby, clearly shaken, eyes wet and wide as he tried not to react and just quietly went to Florian to get him ready.

And Florian...

Florian felt the weight of something cold begin to settle in his chest.

’Why do I feel like I just made a big mistake?’

’He did... spare them. Sort of.’ Florian thought, eyes drifting to Heinz’s back. The king’s posture was perfectly upright, elegant as always, but he didn’t turn around—not even once.

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