Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight!
Chapter 162: ’Urgent Matter’

Chapter 162: ’Urgent Matter’

"Lucius, if this is about your father, I have already dealt with it."

Heinz’s tone was steady—calm, controlled. He hardly spared Lucius a glance, his attention seemingly elsewhere, his fingers idly adjusting the cuff of his glove. Nearby, Scarlett was engaged in effortless conversation with a small circle of noble ladies, her laughter light and practiced, a perfect symphony blending with the hum of the ballroom.

"But where are Florian and Lancelot?" Heinz’s voice was casual, but there was something underneath—something sharp. "I haven’t seen them in quite some time."

Lucius inhaled slowly, keeping his expression unreadable.

’Stay calm. No need to cause unnecessary panic.’

"That’s what I’m here to discuss, Your Majesty," he murmured, his voice low, controlled. "It’s an urgent matter concerning Prince Florian."

The reaction was subtle. A flicker in Heinz’s gaze, a brief furrow in his brow—so brief it was nearly imperceptible.

But Lucius saw it.

Without hesitation, Heinz turned to Scarlett. "I have a matter to attend to. Please keep these lovely ladies company, and take care of Scarlett in my absence." His tone was smooth, polite, effortlessly composed.

Scarlett tilted her head slightly, curiosity glinting in her eyes, but she only nodded. "Of course, Your Majesty."

"We’ll take good care of her," one of the noble ladies giggled. Lucius neither acknowledged her nor cared to remember her name.

Heinz gave a curt nod before gesturing for Lucius to follow. They moved in silence, their footsteps measured, weaving through the grand halls until they were far enough from prying ears.

Then—

"What happened?"

It was quiet. Too quiet.

Lucius knew that tone. It wasn’t a question. It was a demand.

Heinz was calm, but not because he was calm. No—he was calculating. He was assessing.

Lucius hesitated. How much should he say?

Where should he even begin?

’Florian would want him to know about the larger issue first.’

So he started there.

"Prince Florian informed us that he encountered two unknown individuals," Lucius said carefully. "A noble he did not recognize approached him. When he inquired about the man’s name, he refused to answer. He was certain the man was not on the guest list."

Heinz’s gaze darkened. "And the other?"

"A servant. Also unfamiliar. That servant handed him a drink."

A sharp pause.

"Then?" Heinz’s voice cut through the air like a blade. "Lucius, it is unlike you to dance around the point. You wouldn’t bring this to me unless something had already happened."

Lucius straightened, feeling the weight of those words press against his chest.

’He’s already figured it out.’

Heinz’s stare pinned him in place. "What happened to Florian?"

Lucius inhaled deeply.

Here it was.

"I believe the drink the servant gave him was laced with an aphrodisiac."

"An aphrodisiac?" Heinz’s eyes flickered—something cold, unreadable shifting behind them.

Lucius pressed on. "Right now, he’s in the infirmary. He’s exhibiting symptoms—severe ones. His body temperature is high, and he refuses to let anyone touch him. It’s as if he’s not in his right mind."

Silence.

Lucius knew that silence well.

It wasn’t indecision. It wasn’t hesitation.

It was Heinz thinking. Calculating.

Then—

"Has anyone else shown symptoms?"

Lucius shook his head. "No, Your Majesty. I already checked."

Heinz exhaled through his nose, folding his arms.

"Hm. So my theory is correct."

Lucius frowned.

’Theory?’

"What do you mean?" he asked, but Heinz merely shook his head, as if dismissing a thought too complicated to explain.

"Listen carefully, Lucius. Investigate the servant who gave Florian the drink. The mystery noble is likely long gone by now."

Lucius hesitated.

’And what about His Highness?’

"Handle the guests as well," Heinz continued, his tone clipped, efficient. "If anyone inquires about me, tell them I had urgent business. If I do not return, find a way to discreetly end the gathering. I’ll send Lancelot to assist you."

Lucius bowed his head slightly. "But, Your Majesty, what about—"

"The issue with Florian will be handled by me."

Lucius froze.

’His Majesty... will handle it?’

That—

That didn’t make sense.

"You?" Lucius said before he could stop himself.

Heinz’s gaze snapped to him.

’Shit.’

Lucius quickly composed himself, lowering his head. "What do you mean, Your Majesty?"

"No more questions," Heinz said, his voice brooking no argument. "Just do as I say."

And that was the end of it.

Lucius knew better than to push further.

But something about it—about the way Heinz said it—sent an uneasy feeling curling in his stomach.

’What does he know that I don’t?’

And more importantly—

’What is he planning to do?’

✧༺ ⏱︎ ༻✧

Heinz left the ballroom, his steps steady, purposeful. The grand hall, once alive with glittering chandeliers and the murmur of polite conversation, faded into the background, its warmth and elegance replaced by the cold corridors stretching before him. Each step echoed faintly against the marble floors, yet his mind was elsewhere, sifting through everything he knew—everything he suspected.

’When Florian mentioned he was the target of the kidnapping... I started to wonder if this wasn’t just a one-time thing.’

His jaw tensed. The thought had been lingering at the back of his mind for a while now, a whisper of unease that refused to quiet.

Florian wasn’t supposed to be the sole target of the kidnappers. Not in Heinz’s first life. Back then, Florian had only been there by chance—an afterthought. A curiosity to them.

The rogues had been nothing more than common criminals. Foolish, reckless, insignificant.

They stole from nobles, caused disturbances—petty nuisances that Heinz could handle with a flick of his wrist, a single command to his knights.

But these ones?

’These ones are different.’

Cunning. Precise. Their movements deliberate, calculated—almost as if someone was guiding them. Changing their course, shifting their strategy.

Just as he was trying to change his own fate.

That thought settled deep in his gut, a weight that refused to lift.

Because if there was one thing Heinz had learned since his return, it was this—whoever had orchestrated his death had been sloppy. Their plan had only worked because he had been too blind to see it coming.

Too arrogant.

Too comfortable in his own power.

Blinded by the certainty that no one could challenge him, no one could dare to strike him down.

And yet—

He had died.

Poisoned.

A pathetic, humiliating death.

’I’ve had a feeling for a while now... this isn’t just about a traitor hiding in the palace.’ Heinz exhaled sharply through his nose, his fingers curling into a fist at his side. ’No, the traitor... there’s a possibility that they’re like me.’

A regression.

Someone else who had come back.

The possibility was too dangerous to ignore. But more than that—

’Why Florian?’

If his murderer had turned their sights on Florian, there had to be a reason. Something he was missing.

’Do they know something I don’t?’

Was it possible they recognized Florian’s importance?

But how?

No one should know.

The Florian of now was nothing like the Florian from before.

He wasn’t like Heinz—he hadn’t regressed. He wasn’t reliving the past.

He was completely different.

The god who had aided Heinz had told him as much.

A slow breath left his lips, his frustration simmering beneath the surface. Reaching up, he tugged the tie from his long, black hair, letting the strands fall loosely over his shoulders.

’Should I have warned him?’

The thought crossed his mind, unbidden. He flexed his fingers, rolling his shoulders as tension coiled tight in his muscles.

’No. The entire point was to test whether or not I was right—that Florian is the real target now.’

This wasn’t just about tarnishing Heinz’s reputation anymore.

It was bigger than that.

And yet—

There was a bitter taste in his mouth.

It should’ve been satisfying, proving his instincts correct. Every action he had taken was for one reason: his own survival.

But instead of relief, all he felt was a weight pressing down on his chest. Something unpleasant. Something unfamiliar.

"Right now, he’s in the infirmary. He’s exhibiting symptoms—severe ones. His body temperature is high, and he refuses to let anyone touch him. It’s as if he’s not in his right mind."

Lucius’s words echoed in his head, twisting something inside him.

’Since this Florian is different... and he’s made it clear he’s not interested in Lucius or Lancelot, unlike the original one...’

’He must be afraid.’

Afraid that the two men who had once had a physical relationship with him would touch him.

Something in Heinz tightened. His grip on the hair tie clenched, knuckles going white.

’For some reason, this is putting me in a bad mood.’