Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight!
Chapter 172: ’Compensation’

Chapter 172: ’Compensation’

’Compensation?’

Florian froze, barely able to process what he had just heard.

Heinz was offering him anything. Anything.

For a moment, he hesitated. His mind raced with the possibilities, each more tempting than the last. He could have asked for something bigger—something that would get him closer to returning to his world. A demand that would bring him one step closer to escaping this twisted fate. He could have asked for protection, power, or even a way to change the inevitable course of events.

But the thought came and went like a flickering candle, smothered by something heavier. There was already something else weighing on his mind, something that refused to be ignored no matter how much time passed.

’I already know what I want.’

He exhaled slowly, steadying himself. "I do have a request." His voice was firm, yet beneath it, a tremor of anticipation lurked. He met Heinz’s gaze, his fingers curling into the fabric of his sleeves. "I want to visit the Village of Forgotten Waters."

He expected resistance. Skepticism. Perhaps even outright refusal. Instead, Heinz’s expression flickered—just for a second—with surprise before it smoothed into something more unreadable. More calculating.

"This is about the boy, isn’t it?" Heinz said, watching him closely. "The one who helped you escape when you were kidnapped."

Florian nodded, his throat tightening. "Yes. Levi..." The name felt heavier than he expected, as if merely speaking it out loud solidified his resolve. "Ever since I found out he had a sick sister... and that his village is suffering, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. I want to help."

The words slipped out too easily, and before he could stop himself, more followed, tumbling out like an overflowing dam.

"I know what it’s like to be poor." His voice wavered but didn’t break. "I—I mean, the real me. I know what it’s like to struggle, to do anything just so my sister and I could eat." His hands clenched slightly, nails pressing into his palms as memories of hunger and exhaustion resurfaced. "Levi risked everything—his own life—to help me escape. And he did it for his sister’s medicine. The least I can do is repay that kindness."

A thick silence settled between them, stretching out like a taut thread on the verge of snapping.

Florian couldn’t bring himself to look at Heinz. He had revealed more than he meant to. More than he should have. His heart pounded, bracing for rejection, for a cold, rational dismissal of his emotions. Maybe even mockery.

Instead—

"I’ll make it happen."

Florian’s breath hitched.

His head snapped up, his green eyes widening in disbelief. "...Really?"

Heinz nodded once, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "Yes. You will have the means to go there, and you will be provided with the necessary support."

Relief crashed over Florian, so sudden and overwhelming that his knees nearly buckled. He hadn’t even realized how much tension had been coiling inside him until it unraveled all at once, leaving him feeling lightheaded.

"Thank you, Your Majesty!" The words burst from him, raw and unfiltered, his emotions spilling over before he could contain them.

It was only after they escaped that he realized how unguarded he sounded. How happy.

But he didn’t regret it.

For the first time in a long while, he was doing something that mattered—something he chose. Not for survival. Not out of desperation. Just because... he wanted to help.

The warmth of the moment didn’t last long, though.

Heat crept up his neck as he became aware of how openly he was smiling. He quickly ducked his head, rubbing the back of his neck in a weak attempt to compose himself. "A-Ah—sorry. I got too excited."

Heinz didn’t respond immediately.

Curious—and a little wary—Florian glanced at him, only to find the man staring at him with an expression he couldn’t quite decipher. Something strange. Something unreadable.

But before he could make sense of it, Heinz cleared his throat and turned away. "...It’s fine," he said, his voice oddly stiff. Then, more firmly, "You can go now. I’ll call for you again when I have updates on the situation with the mysterious noble or your request."

Florian quickly straightened, still feeling a little flustered. "Understood. Thank you again, Your Majesty."

He bowed politely before heading toward the door, each step feeling lighter than the last. Yet, as he reached for the handle, a final thought crossed his mind—one that settled deep in his chest, filling him with a rare sense of purpose.

’This time... I can actually do something for someone else.’

And for once, he wasn’t just surviving. He was making a choice.

✧༺ ⏱︎ ༻✧

The dungeon was silent.

Not the comforting kind of silence, nor the peaceful stillness of an undisturbed night. No—this was the kind of silence that suffocated. The kind that settled in deep, wrapping around the damp, rotting stone walls like an unshakable curse.

A faint, rhythmic drip echoed from somewhere in the distance, the sound of water trailing down the cracked ceiling before falling onto the cold, unforgiving floor.

And then—footsteps.

Soft. Unhurried. Measured.

A shadowed figure moved through the dimly lit corridor, weaving past rows of empty cells with eerie precision. They moved like a whisper, like a thing that shouldn’t be here, yet belonged far more than anyone else ever could.

They stopped in front of a cell—the only one occupied.

Julius.

He was still unconscious, his body slumped against the chair he had been bound to. His breathing was shallow, lips parted slightly as if trapped in a restless dream.

The figure observed him for a moment, then exhaled.

"Ah." A voice, smooth and almost... amused. "I wasn’t able to use you."

A wasted opportunity.

Julius stirred. His eyelids fluttered, brows drawing together before his body stiffened. Slowly, groggily, his eyes opened—only to widen in instant terror.

"Y-You?" His voice cracked, laced with panic. He struggled against his restraints, the chair beneath him creaking with every desperate movement. "Why... why are you here? You shouldn’t be here."

The figure merely tilted their head.

"Such a waste," they murmured. "But oh well. I just want to send a message."

Julius’s breathing turned ragged.

"W-What? Wait..." His eyes flicked downward, locking onto something glinting faintly in the dim light. "What are you holding? What is that?"

The figure took a step closer.

Julius thrashed violently, his panicked cries filling the small space. "HELP! HELP! SOMEONE—"

The first stab landed deep into his abdomen.

A sickening, wet sound.

Julius gasped—his voice breaking into a choked, gurgling noise. His body seized, back arching in pain as blood blossomed from the wound. But the figure didn’t stop.

Again.

And again.

And again.

The blade sank into flesh over and over, each strike deliberate. Precise. Merciless.

By the time the figure finally pulled the dagger free, Julius’s body had long since slumped forward—his head hanging, blood pooling beneath him in thick, uneven streams.

The scent of iron filled the air, heavy and suffocating.

For a moment, there was nothing. No sound. No movement.

Then—

A chuckle.

Low. Amused.

"Ah..." The figure exhaled, wiping the blade against Julius’s already bloodstained shirt. "It seems I’m not the only one targeting Prince Florian."

A pause.

"I wonder..."

A slow, deliberate smile curled at their lips.

Things were starting to get very interesting.