Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight!
Chapter 212: ’But—why?’

Chapter 212: ’But—why?’

Florian’s shoulders stiffened as Heinz’s gaze bore into him, sharp and unrelenting. It was like being stripped bare, every thought, every doubt, laid out for the man to dissect.

"Did you tell anyone where we were going yesterday?"

The question hit him like a cold slap.

Florian’s breath caught in his throat. His pulse stuttered.

’Shit. I did.’

His gaze dropped to the floor as his mind raced through the events of the previous day. He hadn’t thought much of it at the time—why would he? He trusted those people. They weren’t threats. They weren’t enemies.

And yet, under Heinz’s sharp, knowing stare, an uncomfortable weight pressed down on his chest. It was suffocating.

His fingers twitched.

Finally, he gave a small nod. "Yes..." His voice was quieter than he intended.

’Fuck. I totally forgot he told me not to tell anyone.’

He braced himself.

Heinz had been patient with him—too patient. By now, with everything Florian had done that should’ve made him furious, Heinz should have snapped. Should have scolded him. Should have given him that sharp, ice-cold glare that made people freeze in place.

Maybe this would be the last straw.

’He’s going to snap. He’s going to threaten me again.’

But Heinz didn’t explode.

He didn’t even frown.

He only tilted his head slightly, his long black hair slipping over his shoulder, those crimson eyes studying Florian with unreadable intensity.

"Who?"

Florian exhaled, steadying himself. "Cashew. And Princess Alexandria."

The moment he said their names, he saw it. The subtle shift in Heinz’s gaze. Suspicion. Calculation.

Florian knew exactly what Heinz was thinking.

"You must think they’re the traitors now, don’t you?" he said before Heinz could. His voice was firmer this time, laced with something defensive. "But it’s not them. I know it’s not."

’Cashew and Alexandria could never.’

Heinz didn’t react right away. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling through his nose.

"In this life," he murmured, voice calm but impossibly cold, "there is no one who is trustworthy." His gaze flickered, dark and unreadable. "Not even Lancelot and Lucius."

Florian’s stomach twisted.

"Then why do you trust them?"

Heinz looked away.

"Because I know the characteristics of the one who killed me," he said. His tone was light, almost casual, but there was something chilling in the way he said it. As if he had long since made peace with the fact that he had died before. "And I am certain it’s not them. If it was, then they were probably just minor accomplices."

Florian stilled.

’Wait. What?’

He hadn’t expected that.

So Heinz had some idea of who the traitor might be. And he never said anything?

His throat felt dry, but he didn’t push it. Not now. There were more urgent things to deal with.

He took a slow step back, exhaling steadily.

"...Then what do we do?"

Heinz crossed his arms against his chest, his crimson gaze flickering back toward the window.

"If someone tipped the village off to our arrival, then they could have known who we were from the start," Heinz murmured, his voice low, calculating. "And if they knew... then there’s a chance they’re keeping us here for a reason."

A cold shiver ran down Florian’s spine.

’Keeping us here... for a reason?’

What reason could that be?

Even if the villagers somehow knew that Heinz’s was the king they have grievance over, he’s sure they’re also aware that Heinz could very well wipe out their whole village.

Heinz was quiet. Too quiet.

His red eyes flickered with thought, arms still crossed, his posture rigid with something unreadable. Whatever was running through his mind, Florian could tell it wasn’t good.

Azure whimpered again, his tiny body pressing against Florian’s chest, claws fumbling against the fabric of his cloak as he tried to climb higher. A small, pitiful groan escaped him—soft, barely there, but desperate.

Florian’s chest tightened.

’He’s scared.’

The thought sent a flicker of unease through him.

Azure had been restless since earlier, shifting and clinging to him, but now Florian could feel it more clearly—the way his little body trembled, the way his claws refused to loosen their grip. It wasn’t just unease. It was fear.

Slowly, Florian bent down and scooped him up properly, holding him closer. Azure buried his tiny face into Florian’s chest, his small frame stiff and shivering.

Florian swallowed, his grip unconsciously tightening.

’Even he can feel it. He knows something’s wrong.’

His gaze flickered toward the boarded-up windows. The eerie stillness of the village pressed in, thick and unnatural.

If the villagers knew who Heinz was—if they knew what he was capable of—then why weren’t they afraid?

Why had they so easily entertained Florian’s request to help Leila?

Why did they even let them in?

The thought gnawed at the edges of his mind, sharp and insistent. He tried to think it through, to piece it together logically.

Arthur had said Leila was sick. That had been the reason Florian had come here in the first place.

But—

’She doesn’t even look sick... hold on.’

His breath caught.

’What if... Leila was never sick?’

The moment the thought formed, something inside him lurched. His heartbeat picked up, hammering against his ribs with an anxious, suffocating force. His grip on Azure grew rigid.

Why hadn’t he considered this sooner?

If Leila wasn’t sick, then Arthur had lied.

’Why would he lie?’

The answer came too quickly. Too obvious.

His mind raced, replaying the way Arthur had spoken to him—the disdain in his voice, the urgency in his words. It hadn’t seemed forced. It hadn’t seemed suspicious, he just seemed angry.

But Arthur knew him.

Arthur knew exactly how Florian would react to something like that.

He knew Florian’s guilt wouldn’t let him ignore it.

A trap.

Florian’s stomach churned, bile rising in his throat. His fingers dug into Azure’s fur, his body going cold all over.

’They lured me here.’

But—why?

That was the real question.

His mind reeled. If this was a trap, then logically, it would’ve been for Heinz. He was the king. The one people feared, the one who neglected them. The one with enemies.

And yet—

There was no guarantee Heinz would come to the village.

Even if Florian had insisted on helping Leila, Heinz could’ve refused. He could’ve ignored it.

Which meant—

’It wasn’t Heinz they were after.’

The realization sent ice running through his veins.

His breath hitched, his body locking up as something dark, something suffocating, pressed down on his chest.

His pulse pounded in his ears.

So far—

The kidnapping.

The aphrodisiac.

And now, leading him here.

Every single time. Every single instance.

The traitor wasn’t after Heinz.

They were after him.

Florian’s entire body went rigid.

His lungs felt tight, the air suddenly too thick to breathe properly.

He turned to Heinz, about to tell him everything—

But then—

A knock.

The sound cut through the heavy silence like a blade.

Firm. Measured.

A voice followed.

"Aden, Anastasius, are you both awake?"

It was the chief.

Florian’s blood ran cold.