Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight!
Chapter 331: ’Expensive Scandal’

Chapter 331: ’Expensive Scandal’

"H-How do I look?" Florian asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

The question hung in the air like a trembling note, unsure whether it wanted to fade away or demand an answer.

He already knew how he looked.

Embarrassing.

Judging by the way both Lancelot and Lucius froze—by the way their eyes widened just a little too long, their gazes lingering a little too low—Florian’s worst fears were confirmed.

He looked exactly the way he didn’t want to.

Florian looked hot.

’Oh no. Oh god. I knew this would happen.’

And for once, thinking that didn’t feel like vanity—because this wasn’t his real body. This body, this face, this infuriatingly flawless physique, belonged to someone else. Some fictional, fan-servicey, beauty-standard-breaking pretty boy the world decided to insert him into.

He didn’t even like being stared at like this. Especially not while wearing this.

His new outfit was... too much. A cropped, form-fitting jacket clung to his body like it had been painted on, sculpted for temptation. The rich, opulent fabric shimmered slightly with every step he took, hugging his waist, highlighting the firm lines of his stomach, dipping just enough to expose the subtle v-line of his hips.

It was undeniably sensual—dangerously so. But there was a cruel elegance to it as well. Embroidered filigree along the cuffs and collar whispered of nobility.

A high collar curved along his neck with tailored precision, giving him the look of someone too expensive to approach and too magnetic to ignore.

’This is how the original Florian would dress.’

Florian stepped hesitantly out of the walk-in closet, shivering the moment the air hit his exposed midriff.

’My stomach feels cold. I knew my stomach would feel cold. Ugh. How does Kaz ever wear something like this and still walk around like she owns the world?’

He stiffened as Azure flew across the room and perched proudly on his shoulder.

"Kraa! Kraa!" the tiny dragon chirped, eyes glittering as it bobbed its head enthusiastically.

Florian blinked.

"...Thanks, Azure." he mumbled.

Cashew, who had been dutifully standing by, suddenly burst into movement—eyes wide, cheeks flushed.

"Y-Your Highness! You look... You look great!" he squeaked, his voice jumping an octave as he wrung his hands together.

Florian smiled awkwardly, patting both Azure’s head and Cashew’s shoulder.

"Thank you... You two are way too nice," he said, trying not to sound like he was curling in on himself.

And yet—beneath the nerves, the awkwardness, the subtle hum of discomfort—there was a flicker of something strange. Something... dangerous.

Because when he looked into Lancelot’s eyes, he saw shock hidden behind a warrior’s mask. He saw the careful restraint of someone who’d just been punched in the chest by beauty.

When he glanced at Lucius, he found stillness—a gloved hand clenched slightly tighter behind his back. The man’s golden eyes burned like molten coins behind glass.

And Florian felt it.

That shift. That silence.

Florian felt the silence clinging too tightly around them, like the air itself had thickened.

Lucius’s gaze hadn’t strayed from him—not for a second—and Lancelot stood like he’d been struck by a spell, body tense, jaw locked, hands flexing restlessly at his sides.

It was too much. Too exposed. Too charged.

’I need to get out of here before either of them says something... or worse, does something. They’re both way too off-balance right now. I can’t handle more weirdness on top of everything else.’

His eyes darted to the ornate clock on the far wall, and his heart jumped.

"I... I need to go," he said quickly, forcing his voice to sound more composed than he felt. "His Majesty’s expecting me. I’m already cutting it close."

The words sliced through the tension, snapping Lucius and Lancelot back to the present. They exchanged a look—tight, silent, but heavy with unspoken emotion—and then, as if on cue, turned to Drizelous.

The flamboyant designer was still perched on his chaise, one hand dramatically clutching his chest like a swooning courtesan, eyes sparkling with theatrical admiration.

Drizelous blinked, then sighed with flair. "Of course, of course! Duty calls, and the dukes demand your presence." He pressed a hand to his cheek, as if heartbroken at the parting.

Florian took a step forward, his bow polite but genuine. "Thank you... for the outfit. Really."

Drizelous stood—surprisingly graceful this time—and for once, his voice softened, shedding its usual exaggeration. "No, thank you. I don’t care if it’s just for today, but I will continue making clothes for you. I’ve found my muse!"

’I thought Heinz was his muse?’ Florian blinked, unsure if he should feel flattered or mildly horrified.

He settled for a small, sheepish smile—awkward, but sincere.

As he turned to go, Azure fluttered up to his shoulder with a bright chirp, tiny claws brushing against his collarbone as the little dragon nuzzled his cheek. Florian let out a quiet, nervous laugh, one hand rising to steady him.

’Alright. Calm down. Breathe. You’re going to be fine. It’s just presenting to a room full of powerful dukes who’ll be judging every word you say and every thread you’re wearing. No big deal. Totally fine. And you’re dressed like an expensive scandal. No pressure.’

Lucius and Lancelot flanked him almost instinctively, and Cashew caught up beside them, his supportive smile doing little to ease the storm in Florian’s chest.

At the door, Lancelot paused and glanced back. "We’ll speak again later, Lord Drizelous."

Drizelous fluttered his fingers in a grand wave. "I shall await with bated breath."

The doors shut behind them with a soft but final click.

Lucius took the lead now, his voice steady and businesslike. "We’ll be heading to a different part of the palace. You’ll need to be transported directly—this section isn’t reachable by foot."

Florian nodded, adjusting the edge of his sleeve. "Right. His Majesty mentioned the Sovereign Summit was in a secluded wing."

Lucius lifted his gloved right hand. The obsidian ring on his index finger pulsed with light—a soft glow that shimmered like molten ink. The air around them warped, folding like silk being drawn inward.

A moment later, the world realigned.

They now stood in a corridor unlike any Florian had seen before.

The floor beneath their feet gleamed like polished moonstone. Towering marble columns flanked the hall, each etched with silver and gold veins that shimmered faintly under the soft glow of the hanging crystal lights.

The walls were adorned with ancient sigils, runes that hummed with dormant power, woven together in silver-threaded tapestries that whispered of forgotten dynasties and old magic.

The air smelled rich—frankincense and old tomes, with a trace of something sharp and electric. Power lived here. Legacy lived here.

Servants moved silently across the halls, dressed in robes of deeper jewel tones, the trim of their uniforms stitched with symbols Florian couldn’t decipher. But what made his breath catch was the way they stared.

Every maid, every butler—they all paused when they saw him.

Eyes widened. Whispers bloomed like wildfire behind gloved hands. One maid nearly dropped her tray, while another stood frozen mid-bow.

Knights stationed along the columns turned with sharp attention. Some bowed, others stared longer than they should have.

Florian’s throat tightened.

’Oh god, this outfit is a problem.’

Still, he kept walking. Head high. Steps even. Face calm.

Even as inside, everything coiled tighter and tighter with anxiety.

’Don’t let it show. Smile a little. Don’t look panicked. They already think you’re some rare jewel walking around in lace and arrogance. No need to confirm it by running away.’

He let his eyes wander, partly to distract himself—partly to marvel.

’This feels like a different palace entirely... like I just stepped into someone else’s legacy.’

Behind him, Cashew’s voice piped up. "Lord Lucius," he asked, wide-eyed and curious, "is this one of those wings you can only reach with the ring?"

Lucius nodded without looking back. "Yes. This wing—along with the King’s Wing and the Hall of Verdicts—is sealed. Only accessible through magical transportation. Physical entry is impossible."

Cashew blinked, amazed. "But... why?"

Lucius continued walking, his tone even. "Because these are the sovereign corridors. Only the King, Queen, royal bloodline, and individuals tied to the kingdom’s core are permitted here.

They’re used for matters of war, succession, and diplomacy. Some sections date back to before the Levitienne reign."

Florian stared, wide-eyed.

’That makes sense... but it’s still wild. I’m walking here. Me.’

Azure gave a soft trill, his tail flicking with ease as his gaze scanned the halls.

Florian raised a brow at the dragon on his shoulder. "You’ve been here before, haven’t you?" he muttered.

Azure chirped again, smug and pleased.

Of course he had. He was the king’s dragon, after all.

They turned one final corner, and Florian’s breath caught.

There—standing with his back to them, surrounded by tall stained-glass windows and a spill of light—was Heinz.

Florian almost sagged with relief.

’Thank god. Finally, someone who might not stare at me like I’ve been dipped in sin and starlight.’

"Your Majesty," he called softly.

Heinz turned.

And the moment his gaze landed on Florian—his eyes widened. Just slightly.

But noticeably.

✧༺ ⏱︎ ༻✧

Our expensive scandal

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