Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight! novel Chapter 92

Chapter 92: ’Who Are You?’

’What time is it?’

Florian stepped into Heinz’s office, his posture tense despite the exhaustion weighing down his limbs. The dim candlelight flickered against the polished wooden walls, casting long shadows across the vast chamber. There were no knights stationed at the door, no attendants waiting in the wings. The silence was heavy, pressing against him like an invisible force. Outside the tall windows, the sky was ink-black, the castle halls eerily quiet.

’It’s late. Probably past midnight...’

The realization sent a fresh wave of fatigue through him. ’Has it really only been a day?’ It felt impossible. So much had happened—his capture, his escape, Arthur’s death. Every event bled into the next, leaving him mentally and physically drained. And yet, he couldn’t rest.

Heinz had called him here for a reason.

’Couldn’t he have just said whatever he wanted earlier?’ Florian thought, suppressing a sigh.

Heinz, unfazed as ever, strode toward his desk and sank into his chair with practiced ease, adjusting himself into a comfortable position. Florian remained standing before him, spine straight despite the dull aches creeping through his body.

"Right... before we begin, how are you feeling?"

Florian blinked. ’He’s asking me this again?’

He forced a pleasant smile. "I feel even better now compared to earlier, Your Majesty."

"That’s good." Heinz nodded, then tapped a finger against the desk, a slow, rhythmic motion. "Have any of the princesses visited you?"

Florian hesitated. ’Why would they?’ The words almost slipped out, but he caught himself, shaking his head instead. "No, they haven’t."

"Mhm." Heinz’s expression was unreadable. "I heard many of them were quite worried about you, considering you sacrificed yourself for them."

That—that made Florian pause. Warmth bloomed in his chest. He had been trying for so long to befriend the princesses, carefully maneuvering through their world of courtly intrigue. It had been a risk, a dangerous gamble. But now, hearing that his actions had left an impact, that his sacrifice had meant something—

’It worked. It actually worked.’

Florian allowed himself a small smile. "It was the right thing to do," he said simply.

"The right thing to do, hm?"

Something in Heinz’s tone made Florian still. It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t doubt. But it was something. A subtle shift in the air, a pressure he couldn’t quite place.

"...Yes?"

Heinz didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he watched him, eyes steady, unreadable. Then, with the same measured calm, he asked, "How did you escape?"

Florian’s breath hitched.

’So that’s what this is about.’

"I know someone helped you," Heinz continued, "but there were at least fifty rogues there, aside from their two leaders..."

"O-Oh... uh..."

Florian hesitated. He could lie. He wanted to lie. But Heinz was sharp—like Lucius. Perceptive. He would know.

So Florian swallowed hard and told the truth.

"I... made them think I wanted to be intimate with their leader, Charles." The words tasted bitter in his mouth, but he pushed through. "I convinced him I couldn’t do it with the others around, so I asked him to send them out. After that, I had Levi—the rogue who helped me—show me another exit, and I escaped through there."

Heinz tilted his head slightly, his gaze unwavering. "And as you mentioned earlier, you stabbed Charles to get away?"

Florian let out an awkward laugh. "Y-Yeah."

"And you’re okay?"

"Eh?" The question caught him off guard. "...Yes?"

Heinz hummed again, still watching him.

And watching.

And watching.

The weight of his stare pressed against Florian like an unseen force, coiling around his ribs.

’What is this?’

Heinz had never given him more than a passing glance before. Never spared him a second look. And now, here he was, holding Florian in his gaze, dissecting him in a way that made his skin prickle.

But why?

Florian couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. That there was more to this conversation than Heinz was letting on.

And yet—so far, nothing they had spoken about seemed pressing enough to warrant dragging him into a private meeting at this hour.

Then, without any warning or further explanation, Heinz leaned back and said—

"Then, I suppose we can begin."

Florian’s stomach twisted.

’Begin?’

"Pardon? Begin?" Florian echoed, tilting his head slightly, his brows knitting together in confusion.

"I’m asking—who are you?" Heinz repeated, his voice unnervingly calm, each word measured and precise.

’What does he even mean?’

’What the hell?’

For a moment, the words didn’t register. They couldn’t register.

No—he must have misheard. That wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be possible.

’How could he know?’

No. He had to stay calm. He had to play it cool.

The king didn’t laugh. He didn’t even blink.