Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight!
Chapter 142: ’Too Beautiful’

Chapter 142: ’Too Beautiful’

The day of the ball had finally arrived.

A grand event, shimmering with expectation, where nobles and dignitaries would gather beneath glittering chandeliers, their eyes keen and judgment sharp. The weight of it pressed down on Florian, winding through his chest like an iron coil.

He was nervous—incredibly nervous.

Sleep had evaded him the night before, his mind an endless loop of what-ifs and worst-case scenarios.

What if something went wrong? What if he embarrassed himself? What if he wasn’t prepared?

But he had forced himself to rest, knowing full well what happened when exhaustion crept in. The last time he had gone without proper sleep, he had felt sluggish, unfocused—his reflection in the mirror looking hollow and haggard.

He couldn’t afford that today.

"Your Highness, is this okay?"

Cashew’s timid voice broke through his thoughts, drawing Florian’s gaze away from the polished marble floor and toward the mirror before him.

He blinked.

Then blinked again.

’Whoa...’

Florian barely recognized himself. He had long since come to terms with the fact that this body—his body—was unnervingly beautiful. But after spending so much time in it, he had grown used to his own reflection, the sharp angles softened by familiarity.

But this... this was different.

Cashew had transformed him.

His skin was luminous, almost ethereal, the smoothness uninterrupted by even the faintest imperfection. A subtle flush dusted his cheeks, making his already striking features even more captivating. His lips, previously pale, were now touched with a delicate hue—just enough to bring them to life without looking unnatural. But what caught his attention most were his eyes.

Lined with the lightest touch of kohl, they looked deeper, more intense, their golden-brown hues shimmering like molten green under the warm glow of the vanity lights.

’Okay, wow... I know Florian was beautiful, but damn.’

Cashew had done an incredible job.

"Where did you learn to apply makeup, Cashew?" Florian asked, still staring at his reflection, marveling at the transformation. He turned to the younger boy, genuinely impressed.

Cashew shuffled his feet, his hands clasping together nervously. "Oh, uh... I-I asked one of the maids to teach me before..." His voice was barely above a whisper, his face flushing as if he expected to be scolded.

Florian tilted his head.

’Oh? That’s unexpected... but kind of sweet.’

A small smile tugged at his lips. ’Come to think of it, Cashew stays in the servants’ wing. He probably knows a lot of them... That’s good. I’m glad he has people who are kind to him.’

"I’m glad you get along with them," Florian said, his voice warm, the tension in his chest easing slightly.

Cashew brightened at the words, nodding quickly. "Mhm! They’re really nice." His smile was soft, a little shy, but undeniably pleased.

Then, as if suddenly remembering something, his expression faltered. He hesitated, biting his lower lip before nervously glancing up at Florian.

"D-Do you like how you look, Your Highness?"

Florian paused, glancing back at the mirror.

’Honestly, I’d prefer not to look even more feminine, but...’

He turned his gaze back to Cashew, who was watching him with hopeful, expectant eyes—so eager for approval, for validation. The boy had worked hard, had done his best to make Florian look presentable. And in truth, there was no denying the skill behind his handiwork.

Florian exhaled softly.

A small, genuine smile curled at the corners of his lips.

"I love it, Cashew."

Cashew’s eyes widened slightly before his entire face lit up with joy. He beamed, his shoulders relaxing, the nervous tension melting away into pure, unfiltered happiness.

And just like that, some of Florian’s nerves faded, too.

Cashew hummed softly as he picked up a few delicate accessories from the vanity, his small hands carefully sorting through jeweled hairpins and golden clips. The candlelight caught on the polished metal, making them gleam as he turned them over in his fingers, searching for the perfect ones.

"J-Just a little more, Your Highness," he murmured, stepping closer.

Florian sighed, shifting in his seat. ’More? Isn’t this enough?’ He had already endured the careful application of makeup, the adjustments to his outfit, and now this. But Cashew’s expression was focused, almost eager. The boy was clearly enjoying himself, and Florian had to admit—he was good at this.

So he said nothing, letting Cashew continue.

The servant’s touch was light, barely there as he wove the golden accents into Florian’s dark hair, securing loose strands with practiced ease. The accessories caught the glow of the room, adding a touch of opulence, framing his face in a way that made his already striking features all the more pronounced.

Then—a knock.

Three sharp raps against the door.

Cashew flinched, his hands freezing mid-motion before he quickly stepped back, eyes wide. Florian arched a brow, already guessing who it was.

"Come in," he called, keeping his voice steady despite the slight flutter of nerves in his chest.

The door creaked open, and in stepped Lucius.

Florian’s breath hitched.

Lucius was not in his usual butler’s uniform.

Instead, he wore a finely tailored ensemble of deep black and rich crimson, the fabric draping effortlessly over his frame. Silver embroidery traced intricate patterns along the sleeves and collar, glinting under the warm light. A golden brooch, small but unmistakably expensive, rested at his throat. The outfit was elegant, refined—something meant for a noble.

’He’s looking fancy.’

Lucius had always carried himself with an air of discipline, an unshakable composure that befitted a man in his station. But this—this was different.

This was a reminder.

A reminder that Lucius was not just a butler. He was a noble first and foremost. He had the bearing of one, the blood of one. And dressed like this, with his sharp features highlighted by the richness of his attire, he looked every bit the part.

Florian barely had time to process that before Lucius’s gaze finally landed on him.

And just like that, the air shifted.

Lucius’s entire frame tensed, his breath visibly catching in his throat.

Florian saw it—the subtle widening of his eyes, the way his lips parted slightly as if words had momentarily failed him. His usual composed expression faltered, and to Florian’s mild amusement, he watched as color—soft at first, then unmistakably deep—rose to Lucius’s cheeks.

’Oh, he’s absolutely stunned.’

Florian had to resist the urge to smirk. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, feigning curiosity. ’Should I tease him a little?’

"What do you think?" His tone was light, teasing even, though he already knew the answer.

Lucius didn’t respond immediately.

He took a step forward. Then another.

His movements were slow, deliberate—like he was approaching something fragile, something that might disappear if he got too close.

"Your Highness..." His voice was softer than usual, edged with something Florian couldn’t quite place.

Behind them, Cashew hesitated before taking a quiet step back, sensing the sudden shift in atmosphere.

Lucius stopped just in front of Florian, his gaze unwavering.

Then, as if caught in something beyond his control, he reached out.

Warm fingers, calloused yet gentle, cupped the side of Florian’s face.

’Florian stiffened. His first instinct was to pull away, but something in the way Lucius touched him—tentative, almost reverent—made him hesitate. ’I shouldn’t have teased him. I almost forgot about how shameless he could be.’

Lucius’s thumb brushed along his jaw, the touch barely there, yet Florian could feel the weight of it. His lips parted slightly, his brows drawing together as he searched Lucius’s expression, trying to decipher what exactly was running through his mind.

For a moment, Lucius said nothing. His throat worked, his fingers trembling just slightly where they rested against Florian’s skin.

Then, finally, in a voice barely above a whisper—

"...are too beautiful."

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Florian’s current appearance.

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