Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight!
Chapter 159: ’Something’s Wrong With Me’

Chapter 159: ’Something’s Wrong With Me’

Florian tried his best.

He tried his best to ignore it.

Even after his dance with Athena, even as the music swelled and the nobility continued their endless murmurs, he tried.

But it was getting worse.

The unease clawed at him, insidious and unrelenting, coiling in the pit of his stomach and creeping beneath his skin like fire smoldering just beneath the surface. His body betrayed him in ways he couldn’t explain. It wasn’t just nerves—he knew that now.

Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

But what?

He had no idea.

A dull ache throbbed behind his eyes, the pressure building as though something inside him was pressing outward. His skin burned, unbearably hot, his clothes clinging too tightly to his body, suffocating. Every breath came uneven, shallow, dragging through a throat that felt painfully dry.

A hand trembled at his side. His?

"Your Highness... are you sure y-you’re okay?"

Athena’s voice barely cut through the haze, soft but laced with concern. She stood close, hands clasped together as if resisting the urge to reach out. Her violet eyes, so often cast downward, now locked onto him with unmasked worry.

Florian hesitated.

He could lie. Pretend everything was fine. Flash his usual easy smile and brush off her concern with a practiced charm.

But he couldn’t.

Not this time.

His body was screaming at him, demanding that he stop pretending, that he acknowledge what was happening before it was too late.

So, with some difficulty, he shook his head.

"I’m... sorry, Lady Athena," he murmured, his voice quieter than he intended. "I’m not feeling well. Can you... can you tell Lady Alexandria that I need to step away for a bit?"

Athena’s eyes widened slightly, but she nodded, quick and determined. "Of course. D-do you need help? Should I call for someone?"

"No, no... I can handle myself. Don’t worry, I just..."

He took a step back.

Or at least, he tried to.

His movements were slow—too slow. Heavy, like wading through water. His balance wavered, an unwelcome dizziness seeping into his limbs. His pulse hammered against his ribs, his heartbeat deafening in his ears.

And beneath it all, a thirst burned at the back of his throat. Deep, aching, unquenchable.

’Wait.’

Drink.

The realization slammed into him like a punch to the gut.

The Moonfire Ambrosia.

His mind reeled as he recalled the unfamiliar servant who had handed him the shimmering drink. He hadn’t recognized them, and yet, he drank without a second thought.

And the stranger from earlier—the noble who had spoken to him so familiarly, whose presence had nagged at him even after they were gone.

Florian’s stomach twisted.

This wasn’t a coincidence.

’Fuck. I should’ve prioritized informing Heinz.’

His gaze flicked wildly around the ballroom, scanning the sea of lavishly dressed nobles. He had to find Heinz. If someone was out there, slipping tainted drinks into unsuspecting hands, then he wasn’t the only one in danger.

And if he didn’t act fast—

His vision blurred. His chest tightened. The world around him tilted.

Time was running out.

Florian’s breath came faster now, shallow and ragged, as he swept his gaze through the ballroom.

There—by the far end of the hall, near the marble staircase.

Heinz.

The king stood tall, his sharp eyes scanning the grand festivities with quiet vigilance, his presence an anchor of stability amidst the swirling chaos of noble chatter and waltzing figures. A wave of relief threatened to wash over Florian at the sight of him—

But it was fleeting.

The relentless heat beneath his skin only grew stronger, like fire seeping through his veins, licking at his throat, his limbs, his very core. His heart pounded violently against his ribs, his pulse hammering in his ears. Every step forward felt sluggish, as though thick, invisible restraints were dragging him down, slowing him.

’Fuck, what is happening to me? Was I... poisoned?’

His vision swam for a fraction of a second, the edges of his sight blurring before he gritted his teeth and forced himself to move. He had to reach Heinz. If someone was targeting him—if someone was slipping tainted drinks into unsuspecting hands—he had to act now.

But just as he took another step—

"Prince Florian!"

A chorus of melodic voices cut through his path, and suddenly, he was surrounded.

A cluster of noblewomen formed a loose semi-circle around him, their silken gowns shimmering under the chandeliers, their lips curved in curiosity and amusement. The air around them was thick with perfume—sweet, floral, intoxicating. Florian barely had time to react before one of them stepped closer.

"You’ve been quite the sight on the dance floor tonight," the lady purred, auburn curls cascading over her shoulder as she smiled knowingly. "Would you be so kind as to grant us a dance as well?"

Another woman giggled behind her fan. "Yes, we’ve been terribly curious about you, Your Highness. You and Lady Athena looked breathtaking together—perhaps you could show us the same charm?"

A third leaned in, eyes glinting with intrigue. "Just one dance?"

Florian parted his lips, trying to think—trying to say something, anything—

But his thoughts were sluggish. Tangled. Slipping through his fingers like grains of sand.

The heat inside him curled tighter, unbearable, his breath coming fast and uneven. He felt hot, too hot, his body betraying him in ways he couldn’t understand. Every fiber of his being screamed that something was wrong, but he couldn’t focus, couldn’t breathe past the dizzying, pulsing sensation building beneath his skin.

He had to refuse. He knew that.

But the words wouldn’t come.

Then—

A surge.

A deep, almost unbearable warmth spread low in his abdomen, tightening, throbbing, his muscles tensing against it. The noblewomen’s voices blurred, their presence too close, their scents too much—

For a horrifying moment, he thought he might actually give in.

But then—

A firm hand wrapped around his wrist and yanked him back.

Florian barely had time to register the movement before he was pulled free from the noblewomen’s grasp, his body stumbling forward. He caught a flash of silver-blonde hair before a sharp, familiar voice sliced through the air.

"Apologies, ladies," Lancelot said smoothly, his grip on Florian unwavering. "But I need to speak with His Highness. Immediately."

The noblewomen blinked, their expressions shifting from delight to disappointment. "Oh? But we—"

"No time." Lancelot didn’t spare them a glance, his tone clipped, dismissive. With a firm tug, he led Florian away, maneuvering them through the ballroom with quick, purposeful strides.

Florian exhaled sharply, a shudder of relief crashing over him.

’Thank the gods... Lancelot actually saved me.’

As they moved, another familiar figure emerged from the sea of nobles.

Lucius.

The white-haired man approached, his golden eyes dark with concern. His gaze flicked over Florian, sharp, assessing. "Prince Florian," he murmured, stepping closer. "You don’t look well."

Florian swallowed, thick and dry, his throat burning. His body ached, his fingers trembled, and—Gods—why was his heartbeat so erratic?

"I..."

His voice faltered.

A sharp pulse of heat coiled deep in his core, spreading lower—too low.

His breath hitched. His legs felt weak, his entire body trembling with an unfamiliar, unbearable sensation. The fabric of his clothes pressed too tightly against him, against his own body, and then—

Horror.

A sharp, throbbing pressure between his legs.

His arousal strained uncomfortably against his clothing.

And worse—

A slick, tingling sensation at his entrance.

Something was leaking.

’What—what the fuck—?’

Panic crashed into him, raw and suffocating. His body was betraying him in ways that defied all logic, ways that made no sense, ways that made his entire being scream that something was wrong.

His fingers clutched at Lancelot’s sleeve, gripping the fabric as if it were the only thing tethering him to reality.

His voice came out barely above a whisper, shaky, desperate.

"Lancelot... Lucius... please. Get me out of here."