Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight!
Chapter 170: ’In The Dungeon...Again.’

Chapter 170: ’In The Dungeon...Again.’

The stone walls of the dungeon were as damp and oppressive as Florian remembered. The air was thick with the scent of mildew and something metallic—blood, perhaps, lingering from past interrogations. Each step he took echoed against the cold stone, amplifying the weight of his unease.

’Back here again...’

It was bad enough that he had to return to this wretched place, but something was distinctly off. Heinz, as composed as ever, was walking right beside him.

’The two are surprisingly quiet today.’

Lancelot and Lucius followed behind them in perfect silence. Usually, either Heinz or Florian would be walking with Lancelot or Lucius, not each other. The unusual formation made Florian’s stomach twist uncomfortably.

’Why is he beside me now? Did something happen?’

Before he could dwell on it further, Heinz spoke, his voice calm, yet edged with something Florian couldn’t quite place. "Are you sure you have no other recollection of what happened to you last night in the infirmary?"

Florian nearly stumbled. His heart lurched in his chest as he turned to Heinz, puzzled by the sudden question. The way Heinz phrased it made it sound as if something had happened, something he was supposed to remember. A strange unease crept into his bones, cold and insidious.

’Why is he asking me like that? What does he know that I don’t?’

He swallowed his apprehension and replied carefully, "Did I... do anything strange, Your Majesty?"

Heinz glanced at him, his red eyes gleaming under the dim torches lining the dungeon halls. Then, with the same casual ease, he said, "You asked me to touch you."

Florian stopped dead in his tracks. His breath hitched, his body stiffening as if he had been struck by lightning.

’...What. What?!’

His face flushed a deep red, horror dawning on him. "I—I did what?!"

’I don’t remember that at all!’

Heinz’s expression remained unreadable, but there was a flicker of amusement in his gaze.

"You asked me to touch you," he repeated, tilting his head ever so slightly. "It was... an interesting experience seeing you like that."

Florian’s mind short-circuited. He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again, utterly lost for words. Heat burned up his neck to his ears as he grasped desperately for an explanation.

’I—oh my god—oh my god—’

"I—I am so sorry, Your Majesty!" Florian blurted, bowing his head in mortification. "I don’t know what came over me! I must have still been under the influence of the aphrodisiac—I would never have done that in my right mind! You must have been so uncomfortable!"

Heinz merely chuckled, a soft exhale through his nose. "Perhaps. But it was... different."

Florian covered his face with his hands. "Please just forget about it!"

Heinz didn’t reply. Instead, he simply continued walking. Florian, wanting nothing more than for the ground to swallow him whole, hurried after him, his thoughts a frantic, mortified mess.

By the time they reached the prisoner’s cell, Florian had barely managed to suppress his embarrassment. Lancelot stepped forward, stopping just in front of the iron bars. Inside, bound tightly to a chair, was a trembling man—his mouth gagged, his wrists and ankles shackled. His eyes were red and swollen from crying, his breathing ragged with fear.

’Damn.’

The moment his gaze landed on Heinz, Lucius, and Lancelot, he paled visibly. His body shook like a leaf in the wind, and Florian almost—almost—felt bad for him.

Lucius adjusted his glasses and spoke coolly, "His name is Julius. He is an actual servant in the palace. However, he was not assigned to serve at the ball."

Florian stiffened. ’So, he wasn’t supposed to be there? Then that means...’

Heinz stepped forward, the shadows casting his features into something almost demonic. He lifted a hand, fingers barely twitching, and the gag over Julius’s mouth vanished in an instant—burned away by magic. The servant let out a gasping sob, sucking in desperate breaths.

"Speak," Heinz ordered, his voice as sharp as a blade. "And do not lie." His red eyes glowed ominously. "Or else... you’ll end up just like the last prisoner we had."

Julius whimpered, his whole body going rigid with terror. His lips quivered as he forced out a stammering plea. "P-Please, Your Majesty... s-spare me! I—I swear I didn’t w-want to—!"

Heinz remained impassive, watching him with the cold patience of a predator. "Then talk. Who ordered you to do it? Who gave you the aphrodisiac? And why did they target him?"

Julius hesitated for a fraction of a second.

Florian caught it. So did Heinz.

"N-No one..."

Heinz’s fingers twitched again, and Julius let out a strangled cry, thrashing against the bindings as if something unseen had gripped his head. A small trickle of blood dripped from his nose.

"I will not ask again," Heinz said, his tone deathly calm. "Who."

Julius sobbed, his entire body writhing in the chair as he finally choked out the words.

"A nobleman! B-But he didn’t order anything strange... I swear! H-He said His Highness was thirsty... and g-grabbed a drink from a table, then handed it to me! I—I didn’t know it had anything in it. I thought it was harmless!"

Florian’s stomach dropped.

’Harmless? Then why was he there in the first place?’

Lancelot stepped forward, his orange eyes burning with barely restrained fury. "What did he look like?"

Julius shook his head violently, desperation twisting his features. "I—I don’t remember!"

A thick silence settled over the cell. Florian’s heartbeat pounded in his ears.

’Again? First me, now him? He was also made to forget?’

Heinz exhaled slowly, stepping back. Instantly, the suffocating pressure in the room lifted, and Julius sagged in his bindings, gasping for breath.

Lucius adjusted his glasses, his golden eyes flickering toward Heinz. After a moment, he gave a small nod—confirmation that Julius was telling the truth.

Heinz clicked his tongue, muttering under his breath, "Useless."

Then, turning on his heel, he addressed Lucius. "Find out if any noblemen left the ball early or entered the palace through an unguarded route. There are only two possible ways they could have gotten in—through the guest entrance or our own."

Florian clenched his fists.

’Whoever this nobleman is... they’re dangerous. And they wanted me compromised.’

But there was something off. Something none of them had addressed yet.

Frowning, he finally spoke. "Are we forgetting to ask why Julius was there if he wasn’t even assigned to serve at the ball?"

Lancelot’s gaze snapped back to the trembling servant. "That’s right," he said, stepping closer. "If you weren’t meant to be there, then why were you?"

Julius shuddered, still struggling to catch his breath. His lips trembled as he forced out his answer.

"I-I received a note... just hours before the ball!" he stammered. "I can... I can show you! I thought it was from Sir Lucius... It—it told me I was assigned to serve drinks at the ball..."

A note.

Florian’s eyes narrowed.

Heinz’s gaze darkened, his sharp features hardening like stone. His voice cut through the tense air, each word edged with steel. "A note?"

Without hesitation, he turned to Lancelot, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Go to his quarters. Find it."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Lancelot didn’t waste a second. He pivoted sharply on his heel, his cloak sweeping behind him as he strode out of the cell, his footsteps echoing down the corridor.

A tense silence lingered before Florian finally spoke. "Hold on... if it’s true he received a note, then—"

But Heinz was already ahead of him. His voice was low, firm. "Then either the traitor is inside this palace... or they managed to slip in unnoticed."

Florian’s stomach twisted.

Fuck.

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