Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight!
Chapter 184: ’How Could I Not Be?’

Chapter 184: ’How Could I Not Be?’

Lucius could see the disbelief flicker across Florian’s face, his brows knitting together as if trying to process what he’d just heard. But what was there to be confused about? The answer was clear—so painfully obvious that Lucius wondered if Florian had been ignoring it all along.

Lucius already knew the truth.

Florian didn’t love Heinz anymore.

He could see it. He could feel it.

Before, even the mere mention of Heinz’s name had been enough to make Florian’s emotions swell, love pouring from him in waves so overwhelming that it almost suffocated Lucius. Even when Florian cried over him, it had never been the sorrow of someone grieving a lost cause. No, even in his worst moments, his heart had still been filled with love.

But now?

Now, that love was gone.

Extinguished.

Lucius should have felt relieved. Should have felt satisfied. After all, wasn’t this what he wanted?

But all he could feel was frustration. A deep, gnawing bitterness. Because even with Heinz erased from Florian’s heart, Lucius still wasn’t there either.

He had never been there.

Florian had only ever approached him to make Heinz jealous. That much had been painfully obvious from the start. Lucius had known, had felt it in every lingering touch, every stolen glance meant for someone else. That was why he had tried to push Florian away. Why he had forced himself to remain indifferent.

And yet...

Even knowing all that, he had come so dangerously close to giving in.

Florian made him feel intoxicated.

Made him feel alive.

Made him feel lust—something Lucius had believed had been taken from him long ago, buried beneath the shadows of his past.

For years, he had convinced himself he was broken beyond repair. That no one could ever touch him again without making his skin crawl. That his body would never want anything, never ache for someone’s presence.

But then Florian had stepped into his life, and suddenly, his pulse wasn’t so steady anymore. Suddenly, he was burning. Wanting.

It was dangerous.

Because what had started as lust was now unraveling into something far worse.

Love.

Lucius bit the inside of his cheek, a sharp pain grounding him.

Even if he admitted it—even if he carved his heart out and laid it at Florian’s feet—it wouldn’t matter.

Because Florian did not belong to him.

Florian belonged to Heinz.

And Lucius had no right to love someone who belonged to the king.

Or at least... that was what he kept telling himself.

But he was starting to become greedy.

Especially now.

He had seen the way Lancelot had started looking at Florian—soft, hesitant, something dangerously close to affection. It made Lucius want to sink his fingers into Florian’s wrists, to hold him in place, to mark him somehow, to make it known that he was his.

But worst of all was the fear.

The fear that Florian’s feelings for Heinz would return. That at any moment, his heart would betray him and go running back to the one who had never wanted it in the first place.

Lucius wanted to take him.

He wanted to have him.

And he was starting not to care about the consequences.

That selfish desire had been festering inside of him for weeks, but after what happened with the aphrodisiac, it had become unbearable.

’If only I had been the one with him that night.’

’If only it had been me he reached for in desperation.’

’If only I had been the one to touch him, to hold him, to—’

Lucius exhaled sharply, forcing the thoughts away.

And now, as if to taunt him further, he finds out that Heinz and Florian are going to the village alone?

Lucius had abandoned his task the second he heard, too restless, too afraid to focus on anything else. He had to see Florian. Had to confirm something. Had to—

But when he finally found him, Florian was asleep.

And he was dreaming.

A dirty dream.

Of someone.

Lucius felt his chest tighten, a slow, suffocating pressure pressing against his ribs. He wanted to know. He wanted to demand an answer, to shake Florian awake and force him to say his name.

More than anything, he wanted to hope.

’Was it about me?’

Florian stirred, cheeks burning, lips slightly parted in embarrassment.

God.

It was cruel—so cruel—how beautiful he looked like this.

"Are you... jealous of His Majesty?" Florian’s voice was quiet, hesitant, as if the answer wasn’t already hanging heavy between them.

Lucius let out a hollow laugh. He wanted to deny it. He wanted to lie.

But what was the point?

"How could I not be?" Lucius murmured.

’Just a month ago, you were ready to die for him. Ready to carve yourself apart just to be seen. And now, you and His Majesty have your own little world, keeping secrets from the rest of us...’

But that, he didn’t dare say out loud.

Florian rolled his eyes, reaching out to poke Lucius’s arm. "Do you seriously think I still love His Majesty? I’m just trying to survive. I want... to go home. You know that. So stop acting like this."

Lucius blinked, startled by the sudden shift in tone.

’Is he... trying to comfort me?’

A humorless chuckle built in his throat, but he swallowed it down.

’No, he’s not. He’s trying to convince me to stop bothering him.’

That hurt.

More than it should have.

More than Lucius wanted to admit.

But...

"I’m not going to give up, Your Highness."

"Huh?" Florian looked at him, confused.

Lucius forced a smirk, letting his usual teasing mask slip back into place. "I mean, I’m not going to give up trying to find out who you had a dirty dream about."

It was a lie.

What he truly meant was: ’I’m not going to give up on you.’

Not even if I have to compete with the king himself.

Florian groaned, pressing his hands against his face. "Stop. I didn’t have a dirty dream! I was dreaming that I was dying!"

Lucius only watched him, something unbearably soft creeping into his expression.

’Hah. We’re both such liars, Your Highness.’

"If you say so," Lucius murmured.

"I’m serious!" Florian huffed, exasperated.

Lucius only smiled.

Because no matter what Florian said—no matter how much he tried to push him away—Lucius had already decided.

He wasn’t letting go.