Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight!
Chapter 186: ’How Do We Get There?’

Chapter 186: ’How Do We Get There?’

The polished floors of the Diamond Palace gleamed under the soft glow of enchanted chandeliers as Florian walked beside Heinz, Lucius, and Lancelot. The air was thick with quiet tension, each step echoing through the grand halls like a slow, steady drumbeat.

After Richard announced Heinz’s arrival, both Heinz and Lancelot had come. There was no discussion, no wasted words—just Heinz’s low, unwavering command for Florian to gather his things, wear a cloak, and leave. And so, here they were, moving through the palace with an unspoken urgency, their path set in stone.

Florian kept his gaze ahead, trying his best to ignore the way Heinz’s presence beside him made his stomach twist uncomfortably.

’Stupid dream,’ he thought, gritting his teeth. ’It was just the original Florian’s fantasy. Not mine. I’m straight. It was nothing.’

Yet, no matter how much he told himself that, he still found himself hyperaware of the king’s presence. The faint scent of incense and something richer—like deep wine—clung to Heinz, and it was distracting in a way that frustrated him more than he cared to admit.

He cleared his throat, forcing himself to focus. "So, we’re keeping a low profile, right?"

Heinz gave him a sidelong glance, his crimson eyes sharp and unreadable. "Yes. The village is small, and word of our presence would spread fast. To avoid unnecessary attention, we’ll be using disguise items."

Florian nodded. He was familiar with those. Magical artifacts that could temporarily alter one’s appearance—changing hair color, eye color, even subtly shifting facial features. He had used them before, when spying on the princesses for Heinz’s behalf.

"Lucius, Lancelot," Heinz continued, his voice carrying that effortless authority he always had, "make sure no one finds out about our departure. We should be back by tomorrow afternoon or evening, but if we aren’t... you know what to do."

Both men nodded.

"Understood, Your Majesty," Lucius said smoothly, though there was the slightest tension in his voice.

"As you command," Lancelot added, his tone steady, but his sharp orange eyes flickered briefly toward Florian.

’Uh oh.’

Florian could tell they were both worried. He had known them long enough to read the subtle stiffness in Lucius’ posture and the slight furrow in Lancelot’s brow.

They didn’t like this.

Not because of the danger—no, they knew Florian could handle himself. But because he would be alone with Heinz.

Though Lancelot had never outright voiced his opinions on Florian’s past infatuation with the king, now that Heinz seemed to actually like Florian, Lucius was openly concerned. The two never agreed on anything—even in the novel—but when it came to Heinz, their discomfort was clear.

And now, even though Florian himself had no interest in Heinz, the history between them still hung in the air.

’Relax, you two. I don’t like Heinz, nor either of you,’ Florian thought, but he said nothing.

Instead, he let the conversation shift as Heinz turned to him.

"Do you have any questions, Florian?"

’Oh, he’s actually asking me?’

Florian hesitated for a moment before glancing around. They weren’t heading toward the palace entrance where the carriages were usually stationed. That was odd.

"Yes, one question, actually, Your Majesty," he said. "How exactly are we getting there? We’re not going toward the front of the palace."

’Last time, we used carriages.’

Heinz’s lips curled into a smirk. "You’ll see."

’This again?’

Florian frowned. It was typical of Heinz to give him that kind of answer, which only meant one thing—it was never a good answer.

Lucius, appearing completely unbothered by Florian’s unease, adjusted his gloves with a precise tug before striding ahead. He stopped before what seemed to be an ordinary stretch of the palace wall, then raised his hand, pressing a glowing ring against the cold stone.

A ripple spread across the surface, distorting reality like a stone dropped into still water. Then, as if the palace itself had exhaled, an archway materialized where there had been nothing just a moment before.

Florian blinked.

’That’s... new.’

The heavy door groaned as it swung inward, revealing a stairwell plunging deep into darkness. The air that drifted up from below was stale, thick with the scent of aged stone and dust long undisturbed.

Heinz wordlessly gestured for them to follow.

They descended in silence, their footsteps swallowed by the oppressive stillness of the tunnel. The deeper they went, the cooler the air became. The walls were rough with age, cracks snaking through the stone like veins, and cobwebs clung stubbornly to the corners. It felt as if they were intruding upon a forgotten place—somewhere not meant to be seen.

It was... eerie.

After what felt like minutes stretching into hours, Florian finally broke the silence.

"...What is this place?" His voice echoed slightly, as if the tunnel itself was reluctant to give him an answer.

Heinz didn’t even glance back. "A hidden tunnel."

’No shit.’

Florian huffed, adjusting his grip on his cloak. "But what is it used for?"

"One of the first kings of Concordia had it built for emergencies."

Florian frowned. "Emergencies?" He hesitated before adding, "Forgive me for asking, but... aren’t Obsidians supposed to be the strongest Arcaniors? You could take on an army. And you always have your knights."

At that, Heinz finally turned his head slightly, just enough for Florian to see the faintest hint of amusement in his gaze.

"Usually," he said. "But not every king was strong. And not every Obsidian bloodline inherited the strength they were rumored to have. Sometimes, the truth was exaggerated to instill fear and maintain power."

Florian stared at him.

’Wait... really?’

His entire life, Kaz’s records had described the Obsidians as a near-invincible bloodline—unmatched in power, feared by all. But Heinz was implying that wasn’t always the case? That some Obsidians had been weak?

The thought unsettled him.

Heinz continued walking, unbothered by Florian’s silence. "In the eyes of nobles, magical ability is everything. You’ve seen it yourself. Even Lancelot is an example of that."

At his name, Lancelot, who had been trailing behind in quiet observance, lifted his gaze, his expression unreadable.

"He was the most skilled among his brothers," Heinz went on, "but because he lacked a strong magical affinity, his father dismissed him. Didn’t even bother training him properly. I saw his potential, so I made him the commander of the knights."

Florian already knew that. But hearing it again in this dark, secretive place, where truth seemed heavier—somehow it carried more weight.

Lancelot let out a quiet sigh. "You praise me too much, Your Majesty."

Heinz said nothing in response.

Finally, the suffocating tunnel gave way to an exit. The hidden doorway opened into the dense forest behind the palace, where the scent of damp earth and pine was a stark contrast to the stagnant air below.

Florian stepped out, looking around.

No carriages. No horses. Nothing.

He turned to Heinz, a sinking feeling creeping into his gut.

"...Okay, how are we getting there?"

Heinz smirked.

"Tell me, Florian," he said, tilting his head. "How do you feel about flying?"

Florian blinked.

"What?"

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