Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight!-Chapter 320: ’All The Help’

Heinz met his gaze, unblinking. Not accusatory, but not exactly neutral either. His stare was heavy, rooted with something unspoken—curiosity, perhaps, or maybe suspicion veiled in calm. A flicker of something sharper passed behind his eyes, like the glint of a blade just before it’s unsheathed.

’Why is that even a question?’ Florian thought, a beat of disbelief pounding through his skull. ’Why do I have to explain myself for wanting to check on someone who was humiliated in front of a room full of dukes?’

Still, he forced the frustration down, swallowing it like bitter medicine. His voice, when it emerged, was quiet but firm—controlled.

"Because she didn’t come back to dinner," he began slowly, as if explaining something that should already be obvious. "Because she’s probably mortified, and no one else is going to check on her. And because..." He faltered. The words clogged in his throat, tangled in something he couldn’t quite name.

"Because it’s the right thing to do," he said at last, though the conviction behind it cracked slightly under the weight in his chest. The truth was, it was the right thing—but saying it aloud in front of him made it feel hollow somehow, like it had to be defended instead of just felt.

Heinz didn’t answer immediately. His silence stretched between them, taut and unyielding. His gaze hadn’t softened—if anything, it had grown more dissecting, as though Florian were another puzzle to be solved, another pawn to be placed just right on the board.

’Is that really so hard to understand?’ Florian thought bitterly, his jaw tightening. ’Or is it just that foreign to him... kindness for kindness’s sake? Do people like him only understand moves and motives?’

A quiet exhale finally escaped Heinz as he leaned back slightly in his chair. He looked... not exactly convinced, but perhaps just tired enough to let it go.

"Alright," he said, voice low and clipped. "But go back to your room right after. No wandering."

Florian blinked, momentarily thrown off. That was...odd.

There was something in Heinz’s tone—too deliberate, too cautious. A thread of protectiveness twisted with authority. He wasn’t just giving permission. He was laying down conditions.

’That was strangely specific,’ Florian thought, eyes narrowing slightly. ’Why so insistent? What are you not saying?’

He considered pressing, but the exhaustion weighing down his bones made the decision for him. He bowed politely, keeping his tone even.

"Of course, Your Majesty. Then, I will see you tomorrow."

"Right," Heinz said, gaze lingering as Florian turned away.

As the heavy door closed behind him with a muffled thud, the odd pressure in Florian’s chest didn’t ease—it grew.

The hallway felt colder now, the silence thicker.

’That was weird,’ he thought, rubbing the back of his neck as he walked. ’He was being weird. Suspiciously weird.’

His pace picked up slightly as he moved through the dim corridors, eager to shift his focus to something else—someone else. The princesses’ wing wasn’t far, and he would feel better once he saw Alexandria.

Still, the unease coiled in his gut refused to unravel. It sat there like a knot of smoke and instinct.

’What a weirdo,’ he thought, lips twitching downward as he tightened his robe around himself. ’Honestly, that man gives me a headache.’

And yet, for reasons he couldn’t explain, Florian couldn’t quite get Heinz’s stare out of his mind.

✧༺ ⏱︎ ༻✧

Florian made his way down the marble hallway that led to the princesses’ wing, the quiet echo of his footsteps softened by the velvet carpet running between the columns.

Sunlight filtered through the tall, arched windows, pouring in like liquid gold and casting gentle reflections over the polished floor, as though the palace itself shimmered in breathless anticipation.

The ornate door at the end of the hall stood framed by two guards in crisp uniforms. They straightened and bowed the moment they recognized him—no questions asked, only respectful acknowledgment.

"I’m here to check on Princess Alexandria," Florian said, offering a small, polite smile.

The taller of the two gave a curt nod and turned to open the door, the gilded handle catching the light as the entrance creaked open. A delicate wave of jasmine scent wafted through, warm and faint, like a whisper clinging to silk.

Inside, the room felt like it belonged to another world—quiet, graceful, touched by an elegance that didn’t quite belong in a place so soaked with court politics. The silken drapes billowed near the tall, open windows, stirred gently by the spring breeze.

And there, illuminated by the soft daylight, stood Princess Alexandria.

Her pale-blond hair was tied in a loose braid that draped over her shoulder, and she moved with the kind of quiet dignity that made Florian pause at the threshold. She wasn’t alone.

She was speaking, no, whispering to someone.

A man.

Florian blinked, stopping mid-step. That was... unexpected. The princesses’ wing was usually closed off to male attendants unless specifically requested. Yet here was a man—dressed in the standard servant’s uniform—standing near her with an ease that didn’t quite match the formality of his role.

His posture was too relaxed, his presence too natural. There was something oddly familiar in the way he stood.

Florian narrowed his eyes, trying to hear what they were saying, but their voices were low, murmured just beneath the breeze. He couldn’t make out a word.

Before he could take another step, the man turned his head and noticed him. Their eyes met—just for a second. Then the servant dipped into a respectful bow.

"Your Highness," he said evenly, voice devoid of emotion.

Then, just as smoothly, he turned on his heel and walked past Florian, exiting through the door without so much as a backward glance.

’He just... left?’ Florian frowned slightly, unsettled. ’Why do I feel like that wasn’t just any servant?’

The door clicked shut behind the man. When Florian looked back, Alexandria had already turned to face him, her expression quickly smoothing from surprise to gentle calm.

"Prince Florian?" she asked, blinking once. "I wasn’t expecting you."

’Huh? Is it just me or... does she look nervous?’ Her voice was steady, her smile practiced—but there was a flicker in her eyes, brief, almost imperceptible. ’No. It’s probably nothing. Just startled... maybe.’

"I hope I’m not intruding," he said softly, stepping further into the room. "I just wanted to check on you. After... earlier."

Alexandria’s smile deepened, but it was still the same demure curve she always wore—graceful, composed. "Oh. The tea? That was nothing. Really—it wasn’t your fault."

’She’s too kind.’

Still, Florian dipped his head in apology. "Even so. I felt awful. Seeing it spill on your gown—I couldn’t stop thinking about it."

"You’re sweet, but there’s truly no need for guilt," she replied gently, waving one hand in an airy gesture of dismissal. Her posture relaxed, and her tone softened. "I appreciate you coming to check on me."

’She’s too good for this place. I swear.’ The thought settled like a warm weight in his chest. ’If I didn’t have the original Florian’s memories inside me... I probably wouldn’t even be bitter about her and Heinz.’

Alexandria stepped away from the window and moved gracefully toward the tea table, where two cushioned chairs sat beside a delicate porcelain set.

"How was lunch?" she asked as she sat down. "Athena mentioned you did wonderfully."

Florian released a quiet breath and followed her. "It was... tense. But overall? Not a disaster."

She let out a soft laugh, the sound like the chime of silver bells. "Athena said you handled some of the more... difficult guests quite well." fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com

Florian gave a dry chuckle, a flash of irritation flickering behind his eyes at the memory. "Let’s just say it had its moments. Alaric and Alexandrius were there."

Her brows lifted knowingly. "Say no more."

They shared a small smile, and for a moment the tension in Florian’s shoulders eased. But then her gaze grew more serious, her eyes searching his face with a quiet, earnest curiosity.

"Are you nervous about tomorrow?"

He hesitated. "...Yes. A lot."

"Have you practiced your speech?"

"I have," he said, lowering himself into the chair across from her. "But practicing in front of Heinz is different. The others... not exactly encouraging."

She tilted her head, thoughtful. "Would you like help practicing, then?"

Florian blinked. The offer caught him off-guard. "Really?"

"Of course," she said without hesitation, her smile warm and real this time—not the one she wore for court. "You’re not alone in this. If I can help—even just a little—I’d like to."

’She’s too kind for this place.’ The thought came unbidden, and this time it lingered. He smiled in return, the corner of his mouth lifting despite the nerves still coiled in his chest.

"Alright," he said, sitting a little straighter, letting the tension slip away just a little. "Let’s do it. I could use all the help I can get."

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