Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight!
Chapter 179: ’A Child’s Tantrum’

Chapter 179: ’A Child’s Tantrum’

"Your Highness, please don’t go."

’Eh?’

Florian halted mid-step, his entire body stiffening at the raw desperation in Cashew’s voice. It wasn’t just worry or unease—it was something deeper, something frantic, something that sent a sharp prickle down the back of his neck.

Slowly, he turned.

Cashew stood there, his usually meek posture replaced by something tight and wound up, like a string stretched too thin. His hands clutched the hem of his tunic, twisting the fabric between trembling fingers. His pale blonde hair, slightly disheveled, hung in front of wide, violet eyes brimming with unshed tears.

Florian had seen Cashew nervous before. He had seen him anxious, even distressed. But this—this was something else entirely.

"Why not?" Florian asked, careful, measured, watching the way Cashew’s breath hitched at the question.

"It’s dangerous!" Cashew burst out, his voice rising in pitch, cracking under the weight of his fear. "You could be kidnapped again if you go to the village!"

Florian sighed, rubbing his temple before running a hand through his lavender hair.

’So that’s what this is about.’

"Cashew," he began, keeping his tone even, reassuring, as if trying to calm a frightened animal. "I understand why you’re worried, but King Heinz will be with me. You know how powerful he is. Do you really think anyone could kidnap me while he’s there?"

Cashew didn’t respond immediately, but the flicker of something dark across his face made Florian pause. His lips pressed into a thin line, brows drawn together, his fists trembling at his sides.

Florian narrowed his eyes.

’Wait... what was that?’

Instead of being reassured, Cashew looked even more distressed. His shoulders hunched as if he were bracing for something inevitable, something terrible.

Florian watched, unease curling in his stomach as Cashew’s face twisted—anger, frustration, and something else buried deep beneath the surface, something Florian couldn’t name.

Then, all at once—

"Then take me with you!"

Florian blinked. "...What?"

"Take me with you!" Cashew repeated, louder this time, voice cracking as he stepped forward, his desperation palpable.

Florian exhaled sharply. "Cashew, you can’t."

Cashew’s entire body tensed, his fingers digging so tightly into his tunic that his knuckles turned white. "Why not!?"

Florian hesitated. He could say because it’s dangerous, but that would contradict everything he had just told him. Instead, he chose honesty.

"Because the king insisted it would only be the two of us. We’ll be going incognito to avoid drawing attention. Less attention means less danger."

But Cashew wasn’t satisfied. If anything, his frustration only grew, thickening the air between them.

Florian studied him closely. Cashew had always been understanding, quiet, obedient—

Yet now, his expression was twisted with something Florian couldn’t quite place, something burning behind his eyes. He looked like he was fighting against every instinct that told him to stand down, to stay silent. Like he was about to shatter.

’This isn’t like him... I should feel proud he’s coming out of his shell, but—somehow, I just feel more concerned.’

Cashew suddenly took a step forward, voice rising, urgent, almost frantic. "Then don’t go! Please! Just ask for something else instead!"

Florian frowned. "Cashew, I can’t do that. I need to help Levi’s sister."

Cashew shook his head violently, his breath coming in short, panicked bursts. "But you’re more important!"

Florian’s breath caught in his throat.

Cashew was trembling now, his small hands clutching at the front of his tunic as if trying to physically hold himself together. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his lips quivering as if he were barely restraining himself from saying something worse, something he couldn’t take back.

"Cashew—"

"No!" Cashew cut him off, his voice shrill, nearly frantic. "You—You got poisoned twice! You keep getting hurt! And I—I couldn’t do anything! I couldn’t—"

His voice cracked, high and thin with panic, his fingers digging into the fabric of his sleeves as though he could hold himself together if he just clung tightly enough. "And what if something happens again? What if—what if you don’t come back this time!?"

Florian felt his chest tighten, the weight of Cashew’s words sinking into his ribs like lead.

He had seen Cashew afraid before. He had seen him cry, seen him hesitate. But this—this was something else entirely.

Cashew was unraveling right in front of him.

His face was twisted in frustration, his breath coming in quick little gasps, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. His emotions were too big for his small body to hold, making him tremble from head to toe. His usual timid demeanor had completely fractured, leaving behind a desperate, shaking boy who looked like he was teetering on the edge of something dangerous.

’He’s terrified.’

Florian softened, reaching out instinctively. "Cashew—"

But Cashew stomped his foot, his voice breaking like shattered glass. "I don’t care about some sick girl!"

Silence. A silence so thick it swallowed the room whole.

Florian’s breath caught in his throat. His eyes widened, the weight of those words sinking deep, cutting through the heat of the moment like a blade.

Cashew immediately clamped a hand over his mouth, horror flashing across his face. His eyes, still wet with unshed tears, widened in shock at his own outburst.

Florian inhaled sharply, his expression hardening. "Cashew."

Cashew flinched like he’d been struck.

"That’s not a nice thing to say," Florian said, his voice firm but not unkind. "This... This isn’t like you."

Cashew’s whole body jerked, his shoulders caving inward. His lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but his throat bobbed, his breaths coming in ragged, uneven gasps. His hands clenched at his sides, fingers curling into fists so tightly his knuckles turned white.

He looked so close to breaking.

He refused to look at Florian, his head bowed, his shoulders hunched, his lips pressed together tightly as though forcing himself not to cry.

’He’s like a child having a tantrum.’ But... Cashew was still a child. A mature, patient child, but still a child. And right now, it was as if all the restraint he had ever shown had shattered under the weight of whatever was clawing at his insides.

Something had happened. Something worse than just fear.

Florian took a step closer, lowering his voice. "Cashew, you have to be honest with me now. No more lies. When you went out earlier... something happened, didn’t it?"

Cashew’s breath hitched. His wide, tear-bright eyes shot up to meet Florian’s, and there it was again—fear. Sharp and raw, tangled with guilt and something else Florian couldn’t quite name.

Florian’s voice dropped, firm with the weight of authority. "Tell me the truth, Cashew. Or else I’m making you go back to your room."

Cashew swallowed hard, his body trembling like a leaf caught in a storm. His fingers dug into the fabric of his sleeves again, gripping so tightly it looked painful. His lips parted, his breath shaky.

"Y-Your Highness..." his voice was barely a whisper, fragile as spun glass.

Florian watched him, waiting, heart pounding. He could feel it now—the crack in the dam, the flood of something Cashew had been holding back. He just had to be patient. He had to make him talk before it was too late.