Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight!
Chapter 110: ’Finding Lucius’

Chapter 110: ’Finding Lucius’

’Hah. This is just pissing me off even more.’

Florian clenched his fists, the irritat4rion coiling like a spring ready to snap. For the past thirty minutes, he had been scouring the castle for Lucius, and every dead end only fueled his growing fury. The grand hallways that once felt stately now seemed endless and mocking, their polished surfaces reflecting his scowl as he stalked through them.

He had questioned countless maids and knights, each one fumbling to provide an answer. None were helpful.

"He’s talking to the event planner," one had said, their voice dripping with false certainty.

"He’s in the ballroom," another offered, only to be immediately contradicted by someone nearby.

"No, no, I believe he’s with the royal chef."

"He might be preparing letters for the nobles?"

Every lead had turned out to be a waste of time. Florian had marched to each location, only to find that Lucius had either already vanished or had never been there to begin with. The wild goose chase was maddening.

’He’s either frighteningly good at his job or alarmingly skilled at avoiding me.’

Florian’s jaw tightened at the thought. Deep down, he knew it wasn’t a coincidence. Lucius wasn’t just elusive—he was running. The pieces clicked into place when one of the maids he’d interrogated earlier let something slip, a stray remark that Florian couldn’t ignore.

"Sir Lancelot was speaking to him earlier," she’d muttered, her gaze flickering nervously to Florian’s stony face. "Well... more like arguing, really. But Sir Lancelot was laughing, and Sir Lucius looked absolutely terrified."

"It was the first time we’ve ever seen him go pale!" another maid added, trying and failing to stifle a giggle.

"Sir Lancelot seemed very happy, though," the first maid had continued, her tone bordering on mischievous amusement.

Florian’s lips pressed into a thin line as the memory replayed in his mind. ’So, Lancelot told him about my temper, didn’t he? That’s why Lucius is running around.’

The realization only sharpened his annoyance. Lancelot loved to meddle, and it wasn’t hard to imagine the knight gleefully exaggerating Florian’s anger to send Lucius into a panic. And yet, part of Florian had to admit the butler’s reaction was warranted. After all, his incompetence—or worse, his indifference—was the root of Florian’s rage in the first place.

His search had now led him into a part of the castle he rarely visited. The air was different here, carrying a faint sweetness that hinted at perfumes and fresh flowers. The walls were adorned with delicate floral wallpaper, interspersed with gilded mirrors that reflected his tense expression.

’The princesses’ wing,’ he realized with a flicker of confusion. ’What in the seven hells would he be doing here?’

It was no secret that Lucius avoided the princesses whenever he could. Their endless demands and ceaseless chatter grated on his nerves, and they treated him less like the head butler and more like a personal servant.

Yet Florian also knew that Lucius couldn’t escape their influence entirely, especially with the upcoming ball looming over everyone’s heads.

’Finalizing their gowns, perhaps?’ Florian thought, though the idea made him scoff. ’Or smoothing out some other tedious detail. Either way, he’s probably wishing he could disappear right about now.’

Still, the idea of Lucius hiding among the frills and perfumes of the princesses’ domain was almost comical. Florian’s lips twitched in a brief, humorless smile before his frustration took hold again.

The polished marble floors beneath his boots amplified the echo of his steps, a rhythmic reminder of his simmering anger. The cloying scent of roses grew stronger as he ventured further in, mingling with the faint hum of voices behind closed doors.

Each step brought him closer to an answer—and the inevitable confrontation.

’I swear, Lucius, when I find you, you’re going to wish Lancelot had exaggerated my mood,’ Florian thought, his hands curling into fists once more as his strides lengthened with purpose.

The faint hum of conversation behind closed doors faded into a tense silence as Florian pressed further into the princesses’ wing. The heavy scent of roses clung to the air, almost cloying, but he barely noticed. His focus was razor-sharp, frustration curling tighter in his chest with each passing second.

’If I don’t find him soon, I swear I’m going to—’

His thoughts came to an abrupt halt as he turned a corner and nearly barreled into two figures. His boots skidded slightly against the polished marble as he stopped short. Standing before him, framed by the golden light filtering through the high windows, were Princess Bridget and Princess Mira.

Bridget adjusted the glasses perched delicately on her nose, her piercing green eyes narrowing as she studied him like a puzzle she was trying to solve. "Prince Florian?" she asked, her voice sharp and laced with curiosity.

Beside her, Mira stood poised as always, her short blue hair impeccably styled to frame her regal features. Her gaze was softer but no less perceptive. "What are you doing here?" she asked, her tone calm yet probing, as though she could read the irritation simmering beneath his skin.

’Great. Just what I needed,’ Florian thought, his jaw tightening as he barely managed to suppress a sigh. Though the two princesses had grown noticeably kinder to him over time, he could already see the questions forming in their eyes. Questions about the test.

And right now, the last thing he wanted was to be held up.

Straightening his posture, Florian schooled his expression into neutrality. "Ladies," he said, inclining his head respectfully. "I didn’t mean to intrude. I was... looking for Lucius."

Bridget tilted her head, her green hair catching the light in shimmering waves. "Sir Lucius?" she echoed, her blunt tone making it sound like she didn’t quite believe him.

Mira’s brow furrowed slightly, a flicker of concern softening her serene expression. "Is this about the test?" she asked, her voice low but steady.

Florian hesitated, weighing his options. He could deflect, but what was the point? "Yes," he admitted finally, his tone clipped.

The two princesses exchanged a glance, a silent conversation passing between them. Bridget’s lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smile as she adjusted her glasses again. "So, what’s it going to be?" she pressed, her voice tinged with dry amusement. "Care to share any details?"

Mira’s gaze softened further, a glimmer of hope flickering in her deep blue eyes. "Or at least give us a hint?" she asked, her tone gentle but insistent.

Florian let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "I can’t say much just yet," he replied, his voice lighter now, almost teasing. "But my advice is simple: act natural. Don’t overthink it. And..." He paused, his gaze flickering between them, "you’ll be spending more time with His Majesty this week."

Bridget blinked, clearly surprised. "With King Heinz?" she asked, her sharp tone momentarily softened by the revelation.

Mira, on the other hand, seemed genuinely pleased. "That sounds... reassuring," she said quietly, her lips curving into a small but sincere smile.

Florian nodded, already stepping back. "That’s all I can say for now. I have to go."

Before he could turn away completely, the two princesses dipped their heads slightly—a gesture of gratitude. "Thank you, Prince Florian," Mira said warmly, her sincerity almost disarming.

Bridget followed suit, though her bluntness softened for once. "We’ll keep that in mind. Good luck finding Lucius."

Florian strode away, a faint sense of relief settling over him. ’They’ve really warmed up to me, haven’t they?’ he mused, his earlier irritation ebbing just slightly.

But as he turned the next corner, his heart sank. Ahead, framed by the light pouring through an arched window, stood two familiar figures with hair as vivid as flames: Princess Scarlett and Princess Camilla.

’Oh, no. Not them. Not now.’

Florian froze, his mind racing for an escape, but it was too late. Scarlett’s sharp voice cut through the air like a whip. "Florian!"

Camilla’s laughter followed, her tone dripping with mischief. "Where do you think you’re going? We have questions for you!"

Panic surged through him like a jolt of electricity. ’Nope. Not doing this today.’

Without a word, he spun on his heel and bolted, ignoring their shouts echoing behind him.

"Florian! Don’t you dare run from us!"

"Get back here!"

"Y-Your Highnesses, please stop!"

"You musn’t run!"

The frantic calls of their maids and the rustle of dresses joined the growing cacophony of footsteps chasing after him. Florian’s pulse pounded in his ears as he raced down the hallway, his mind a blur of curses.

’I swear, Lucius, when I see you, I will—’

Before he could finish the thought, a strong hand shot out of the shadows and grabbed his arm, yanking him forcefully into a nearby alcove. A startled gasp escaped his lips, but before he could react, a voice whispered near his ear.

"What—’"

"Stay quiet," the man commanded, his tone calm but firm.

Florian blinked, his eyes adjusting to the dim light. Standing close—too close—was a stranger with sharp, angular features and an air of quiet confidence. A faint smirk curved his lips as he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a murmur.

"Well, well," the man drawled, his tone thick with amusement. "Looks like you’re quite the popular one today, Prince Florian."

’Who the hell is this?’

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