Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight!
Chapter 168: ’Acting Weird...er?’

Chapter 168: ’Acting Weird...er?’

"What do you mean, Your Majesty?"

Lucius was the first to speak, his voice steady despite the weight behind his words. Of course, he would be the one bold enough to ask.

Heinz’s gaze flickered toward him, then shifted to Lancelot, then to Lysander—but never to Florian. Not even once.

’Hm?’

Florian frowned slightly.

’Is it just me... or is he avoiding looking at me?’

That was... strange. Heinz had never done that before. But for some reason, Florian wasn’t as unsettled by it as he should have been.

"Everyone except Florian, leave the infirmary. I want to speak with him alone."

The command was smooth, decisive—delivered in a tone that usually left no room for argument.

Lucius and Lancelot exchanged brief glances.

"Your Majesty?" Lancelot asked, his brows furrowing. "Why can’t we be here?"

Heinz’s expression remained impassive. "I have to speak with Florian alone. For now, all of you—yes, even you, Lysander—wait outside."

His voice was calm, but beneath the composure was a weight that demanded obedience.

Yet—no one moved.

Lucius’s gaze sharpened. "May we know why?"

A flicker of something passed through Heinz’s expression, but it was gone before Florian could place it.

"It is something I need to discuss with Florian first before addressing you both. Now, why are you hesitating?"

His tone had cooled—not exactly sharp, but edged with warning.

’It must be important if he’s openly dismissing them just to talk to me, but...’

Florian glanced at Lancelot and Lucius. They weren’t just hesitating—they were resisting.

Unusual.

Lucius and Lancelot were sharp. Disciplined. They followed orders without question. But now? Now, they stood there like statues, unmoving.

’Did something happen while I was under the aphrodisiac?’

It didn’t seem like it. Lancelot and Lucius looked calm—too calm. But their refusal to obey immediately was telling.

Lucius’s fists clenched, his knuckles pale with tension. Lancelot’s expression was unreadable, but his stance was rigid, his weight subtly shifted as if readying himself for something.

And Heinz—

Heinz was getting impatient.

Florian took his chance.

"Lucius, Lancelot... can you please leave for a bit so His Majesty and I can talk?"

The moment he spoke, the two flinched.

They turned to him almost too quickly, worry flashing in their eyes.

’Why are they even worried?’

It didn’t make sense.

Again, very unusual.

It was as if they wanted to say something—something important—but in the end, they knew they had no choice.

Lucius moved first. "As you wish." His voice was composed, but there was an edge to it. He bowed, first to Florian, then to Heinz, his gaze lingering longer than necessary.

Lancelot sighed under his breath. "Fine." His muttered response was reluctant, but resigned. He did the same as Lucius, though his bow was quicker, sharper—lacking his usual ease.

Lysander had already left the moment Heinz gave the order.

And then—

Silence.

The infirmary felt emptier. Quieter. The absence of the others left a strange tension in the air.

Heinz exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "Hah. This is the first time they weren’t willing to obey my orders. That’s something, isn’t it?"

Florian blinked. "...I..."

’What was I supposed to say to that?’

It almost felt like Heinz had done something—something that made Lucius and Lancelot hesitate to leave him alone with Florian.

But why?

Lucius and Lancelot had always respected Heinz. The only thing they had ever done that could be seen as disobedience was—

’Ah. Right.’

The only thing they had ever done to go against him was falling for a member of Heinz’s harem.

Falling for Florian.

But they had been lucky. Heinz had never cared about Florian in that way.

So why...

Why did it feel different now?

"I think Your Majesty’s words worried them," Florian finally said, watching Heinz closely.

Heinz raised an eyebrow. "To the point that they would blatantly ignore my words and follow yours?"

His arms crossed over his chest, his expression unreadable. Then—finally—he met Florian’s gaze.

And Florian immediately regretted speaking.

’Shit.’

Heinz’s eyes held something weighty. Something unreadable.

Florian refused to look away. For some reason, he felt like he could be honest with Heinz today—more so than before.

His instincts were right.

Because instead of irritation, Heinz merely ran a hand through his hair, exhaling.

"Do you remember anything?" He asked.

Florian frowned. "I remember up until Lancelot and Lucius pulled me out of the ball. It’s hazy after that... but I do remember who gave me the drink."

For a moment—

Something flickered through Heinz’s eyes.

Something indistinct.

And then—it was gone.

"So, you don’t remember?"

"Remember what?"

A beat.

’Did I do something weird, after all?’

Heinz sighed, shaking his head. "It’s nothing important."

That was a lie.

"Now, how are you feeling?" Heinz asked, changing the subject almost too smoothly.

’He’s really acting weirder than usual.’

Florian let it slide. For now.

"I’m feeling fine, Your Majesty. Just a little sore? In some areas."

It was a casual remark. A simple, factual statement.

But—

Something shifted in Heinz’s expression.

Subtle.

A flicker of something before it disappeared behind his usual impassiveness.

But Florian caught it.

Pride.

Florian’s brows furrowed slightly.

’Why...? Why would he look proud?’

But before he could question it, he forced himself to focus.

There was something more important to ask.

Florian tilted his head slightly. "Your Majesty... what did you mean earlier?"

Heinz’s gaze met his once again.

"That you anticipated this happening?"

Silence stretched between them. Heinz stood there for a moment, unmoving, before finally stepping forward. His movements were slow, calculated—each step deliberate. He pulled out the chair beside Florian’s bed and sat down with an air of certainty, as if he had all the time in the world.

"When you got kidnapped," he said at last, his voice measured, "I had a theory."

’A theory?’

Florian’s fingers curled slightly against the sheets.

"That man, Arthur, said you were the target, yes?"

’It was actually Levi who told me.’

Florian briefly considered correcting him but decided against it. It didn’t really matter. Instead, he simply nodded. "Yes, he did."

"Did you ever wonder why?"

Florian blinked, tilting his head slightly. "Hm. I assumed it was because of this body’s unique biology?"

It was the most logical explanation, after all. And truthfully, he hadn’t given it much thought after the test. He had deliberately tried to forget the entire incident—the fear, the helplessness. The reminder that he had barely managed to escape unscathed.

Because even though he had avoided the worst possible fate, he had still been forced to witness Levi’s brutal death.

A grotesque, bloody image that refused to fade.

Heinz shook his head. "I had a feeling it wasn’t just that. Their entire plan deviated from what happened in my first life. It was too much of a deviation." His fingers drummed against the armrest before he continued, "So I decided to use the ball as an opportunity to test my theory."

’Huh?’

Florian’s brows furrowed slightly.

"But I thought you said—"

Heinz raised a hand, cutting him off before he could finish. His gaze was sharp, unyielding. "I know what I said, Florian. It is still true, but I had other motives."

’I can’t believe him... So he had these suspicions and didn’t even bother telling me?’

A bitter feeling curled in Florian’s chest. His grip tightened on the blanket, his nails pressing into the fabric.

"You seem mad," Heinz observed, his voice tinged with amusement.

Florian inhaled sharply, forcing a tight-lipped smile. "I can’t possibly be mad at you, Your Majesty," he said, his words polite but laced with something unmistakably sharp.

Heinz exhaled, shaking his head slightly. "You don’t have to lie. I admit it was wrong on my part."

’Oh? He actually admits he was wrong? Ha. That doesn’t change the fact that he still kept it from me.’

Florian’s gaze hardened. "...Why didn’t you tell me, Your Majesty?"

Heinz didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he seemed to weigh his words, his fingers tapping absently against the chair. Then, he looked away.

"If you had known you were a target, you would have been more cautious," he said slowly. "And if you were wary, the mastermind—or the traitor—might have sensed it."

Florian narrowed his eyes.

’So that’s his excuse? He wanted to use me as bait to confirm his suspicions?’

A sharp exhale left his lips.

He should be angrier. He wanted to be angrier.

And yet—

’He looks like he genuinely feels bad. That’s rare.’

Florian hated how that realization dulled the edges of his irritation. He despised how easily Heinz could make his anger waver with just a look, with the mere implication of regret. But even if his fury had softened, the resentment remained—a quiet, simmering ember beneath his skin.

Still, he knew better than to push. The last time he had spoken out of line, Heinz had made it painfully clear what the consequences would be.

So instead, he took a slow, measured breath and let it out.

"What’s our next step, then, Your Majesty?" he asked, his voice steady.

If Heinz noticed the shift in his tone, he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he met Florian’s gaze once more, his expression unreadable.

And then, he smirked.

But it wasn’t reassuring. If anything, it only made Florian’s stomach twist.

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