Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight!
Chapter 75: ’Time To Escape’

Chapter 75: ’Time To Escape’

Florian’s breaths came in ragged gasps, his lungs burning as he forced himself forward, weaving through the winding underground passage. Each step sent a jolt of pain through his legs, but he didn’t dare slow down. The damp air clung to his skin, thick and suffocating, pressing against his throat like invisible hands.

He couldn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop.

’I... I did it...’

His fingers trembled as he rifled through Charles’ coat pocket, his grip on the fabric vice-tight. His pulse roared in his ears, drowning out everything but the frantic rhythm of his own heartbeat. His vision blurred with sweat and exhaustion, and for a split second, the uneven stone floor nearly sent him sprawling.

Then his fingertips brushed against something solid—thin, crinkled parchment.

The map.

A sharp exhale burst from his lips, half relief, half disbelief. His hands clenched around it as if it might vanish, the fragile paper crinkling beneath his desperate grip. He shoved it into his own pocket, barely slowing his pace.

’It worked. It fucking worked. Yes!’

For the first time since waking up in this cursed world, something had gone right. No immediate retaliation. No suffering at the hands of a stronger opponent. No cruel twist of fate dragging him back into the abyss.

He had won.

He had outmaneuvered Charles.

Stolen the map.

And now, he was sprinting toward freedom.

Still, paranoia clung to him like a second skin. His nerves remained razor-sharp, waiting—expecting—the worst. Any moment now, he would hear it.

The scrape of boots against stone.

The echo of a furious, ragged breath.

Charles’ enraged snarl, promising pain, promising retribution.

But there was nothing.

Only the steady drip... drip... of water from the ceiling, the rhythmic pounding of his own footfalls against the damp stone floor.

The silence felt unnatural. A trick. A trap.

But then—

A whisper of wind curled against his damp skin, feather-light but unmistakable. A breeze.

His heart leapt into his throat.

He was close.

A choked, giddy sound bubbled up in his chest—half a laugh, half a sob. It felt unreal. After everything, after the blood, the terror, the pain—he was really going to escape.

’I’m going to make it. I can actually get out.’

His focus locked onto the path ahead, the world around him narrowing to a singular point: the exit.

A few feet ahead, another marker scratched into the cave wall—Levi’s signal. The last one.

Then, just beyond it—

A ladder.

His breath shuddered out of him.

The wooden rungs stretched upward, leading to a trapdoor.

Salvation.

Relief crashed over him like a wave, so overwhelming it nearly stole his strength. Skidding to a halt, he ripped Charles’ coat and pants from his body, discarding them like a second skin he no longer needed. The map—his map now—was safely secured in his pocket.

He grasped the ladder, fingers aching, legs screaming—but he climbed. Fast. Desperate. Heart hammering against his ribs like it wanted to burst free.

Step after step, higher and higher, until finally—

His fingers brushed the rough wood of the trapdoor.

Almost there.

Bracing himself, he shoved against it—

Nothing.

The door didn’t budge.

His breath hitched.

Florian shoved harder, his palms pressing into the splintered wood.

Still nothing.

A sliver of ice slid down his spine.

No, no, no, not now—

He slammed his shoulder against it, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts. Panic clawed its way up his throat, cold and suffocating.

It’s stuck.

Or worse—

It’s locked.

A shuddering exhale left him as he pressed his forehead against the wood, fingers gripping the edges until his knuckles went white.

He had been so close.

Too close.

And now—now he might still be trapped.

Had Levi tricked him?

Had something happened to him?

Dread coiled tightly in Florian’s chest, crushing the brief, intoxicating confidence he’d felt only moments ago. He slammed his fists against the wood again, harder this time, his breath coming in frantic, ragged bursts. His heartbeat was a wild, erratic drum, pounding against his ribs, filling his ears with a deafening roar.

’Fuck! this can’t be happening.’

His mind spiraled through every possibility, each one worse than the last.

Had Charles recovered too quickly?

Had the rogues found Levi first?

Was this all a setup from the beginning?

The walls of the underground passage suddenly felt narrower, the air pressing in around him, thick and suffocating. His fingers dug into the splintered edges of the trapdoor, muscles straining as he pushed with every ounce of strength he had left. But the wooden barrier refused to give, sealing him in like a coffin lid.

His breath grew shallower, panic threatening to overtake reason.

Trapped. He was trapped.

Then—

A creak.

A thin sliver of light sliced through the darkness, chasing away the suffocating shadows. The trapdoor moved—then suddenly, it was yanked open with a forceful tug. Cold night air rushed in, crisp and clean, filling his lungs in a way that nearly made him dizzy.

And above him—

Levi.

His face was flushed, his chest heaving as he peered down, urgency burning in his wide eyes. "Shit—Your Highness, I’m sorry. Was I late? I... had a hard time slipping away from the rest," he panted, his voice edged with breathless relief.

Florian barely heard him.

The sheer force of relief crashing through him left him weak. His legs threatened to give out beneath him, but he forced them to move.

Without hesitation, he reached up, grasping Levi’s outstretched hand. Levi tightened his grip and pulled, hoisting Florian up with a sharp, steady motion. His boots scraped against the damp ladder rungs, the rush of open air against his skin sending shivers down his spine.

Then, finally—finally—his feet hit solid ground.

And before he could stop himself, he did something unexpected.

He hugged Levi.

This time, on purpose.

Levi went completely rigid, his entire body locking up as if Florian had just stabbed him instead. "W-Wha—again? Why do you keep—"

"Thank you." Florian’s voice came out raw, hoarse, barely above a whisper. His fingers curled tighter into the fabric of Levi’s jacket, grounding himself in the feeling of something real. Something solid. He swallowed hard, his throat burning. ’He didn’t betray me. He’s safe. He’s here.’

That truth hit harder than he expected.

For days, all he had known was pain, fear, and manipulation. His body had been a pawn, his mind a battlefield of nightmares. He had been used, discarded, controlled. But now—this—this was his. His choice.

Levi stood frozen for a moment longer, clearly unsure, but then—hesitantly—he lifted his arms and returned the hug. It was stiff, awkward, as if Levi wasn’t used to offering comfort. But he didn’t pull away. He just... let Florian hold on.

And for now, that was enough.

Florian squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, inhaling deeply. Levi smelled of damp cave air and steel—sharp, metallic, grounding. It pulled him back from the ghosts clawing at his mind, dragging him away from memories that threatened to consume him.

This was real.

This was now.

After a beat, Florian exhaled shakily and pulled back, clearing his throat. He let his fingers slip away, stepping back just enough to meet Levi’s gaze. "Do you know the way out?" he asked, voice steadier now. "I took Charles’ map to make sure we don’t get followed."

Levi’s expression hardened, his sharp focus returning. He gave a firm nod. "Yeah. I do. But we have to move fast."

Florian swallowed, forcing down the lingering tremors in his hands. His body ached, exhaustion gnawed at the edges of his strength, but none of it mattered. Not yet.

He lifted his chin, determination settling in his chest like a burning coal. "Then let’s go."

They barely took two steps before Levi let out a sharp, strangled sound—half a gasp, half a choked-off cry.

Florian’s heart lurched, his stomach twisting violently. His entire body snapped to attention, instincts screaming at him before his brain even had time to process what was happening.

Then he saw it.

The ground had erupted beneath Levi, dark, gnarled branches surging upward like jagged spears. They coiled and twisted unnaturally, stabbing through Levi’s legs with sickening precision. Blood poured in thick, crimson streams, soaking the dirt beneath him.

Levi’s body jerked, a shudder running through him as his hands instinctively clenched at the ground, nails digging into the dirt. His breaths came in sharp, ragged bursts, his jaw tightening as he swallowed down the worst of his pain.

His fingers twitched, hovering just above the twisted wood piercing his flesh, as though even the thought of touching them made the agony worse.

"Shit—" Levi exhaled shakily, his voice tight, forced. "Fucking—shit." He let out a sharp breath through gritted teeth, his body trembling despite the obvious effort to keep himself still.

Florian’s breath hitched, panic clawing up his throat.

"Levi!" His voice was sharp, frantic, but his body refused to move for a split second—just a single, horrible second—before instinct slammed into him like a tidal wave. He dropped to his knees, his fingers twitching towards Levi’s wounds, unsure what the hell to do, unsure if yanking the branches out would make it better or worse.

His mind reeled. His chest constricted.

’This... this is magic. But who—’

A slow, deliberate clap echoed through the clearing.

The sound was almost mocking.

"Well, well, well... what do we have here?"

Florian’s blood ran cold.

His breath stilled, his heart stopped—just for a second.

’How did he get here?’

Dread curled around his spine like ice. Slowly, as if moving too fast would shatter him into pieces, he turned his head.

And there he was.

Arthur.