Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight!-Chapter 333: ’Cannot Be Found?’

"Are your notes that important?" Heinz asked, glancing at Florian from the corner of his eye as they stood in the quiet corridor, waiting for Lucius to return.

Lucius had volunteered to retrieve Florian’s notes, citing his ability to move quickly between the palace wings. Cashew had followed along too, likely to help, since he knew Florian’s habits and where he stored his things.

The halls were cold and polished, the sound of their footsteps echoing faintly in the distance.

Florian nodded, his voice barely above a whisper. "Every detail of my plan is there. My speech is there. I need it... to make sure the presentation is perfect."

His fingers clutched at the fabric of the cape Heinz had wrapped around him. The thick, warm material did little to calm the storm inside.

He hadn’t always been this anxious—but public speaking? It had always been his weakness.

Even in his first life, back when he was just an office worker in a gray cubicle, presentations had always sent him spiraling. He would stutter over his lines, talk too fast, or completely miss his points.

Once, he had even confused two entire departments in a budget presentation and ended up being reassigned the next week.

And now?

Now, he was supposed to convince powerful, noble men with generations of pride and wealth behind them.

A single misstep could ruin everything. For him, for the kingdom—and for Heinz.

’Calm down. Lucius is getting the notes. Then I can present well. Just breathe.’ Florian told himself, closing his eyes for a moment as he inhaled and exhaled slowly.

He was deeply, almost absurdly grateful for the cape now—it hid his trembling hands, gave him something to grip, something to shield himself with.

He pulled it tighter around him.

’Why am I so nervous?’ he thought, his foot beginning to tap unconsciously. ’Cashew’s with Lucius. He knows where I put my notes. He saw me working on them yesterday. It’ll be fine. It has to be fine.’

But time was crawling.

It had only been a few minutes, but to Florian, each second felt like an eternity stretching across his nerves. Something gnawed at the pit of his stomach—something tight and bitter, a creeping sense of wrongness.

’Why aren’t they back yet? It’s just the guest wing... unless—’

Florian’s gaze flicked toward Lancelot, who stood nearby, shifting awkwardly like he didn’t quite know what to do with himself. He kept glancing at Heinz and then away, clearly itching to speak but holding back. Florian could only guess why.

The memory hit like a cold slap.

Alexandrius. His demand.

Heinz’s younger brother had cruelly forced Lancelot into an impossible corner—telling him that if he didn’t allow Andrew, his unqualified younger brother, into the royal knights, he’d be denied the right to see his dying mother.

Lancelot’s clenched fists said it all. He wanted to speak to Heinz. But he was waiting. Waiting for the right moment.

’I hope he gets the chance after the summit... before it’s too late.’ Florian sighed softly, sympathy blooming in his chest.

And then—finally.

Footsteps echoed ahead.

Florian’s heart leapt as he saw them—Lucius and Cashew. Relief flooded his face, and he took a few quick steps forward, his green eyes lighting up.

"Finally! Did you—"

He stopped mid-sentence.

Lucius’s brows were furrowed, his expression confused and tense. Cashew, on the other hand, looked pale and visibly upset, clutching the edge of his tunic in unease.

They didn’t even need to speak.

Florian knew. He knew.

That look on their faces—it said everything.

No.

No, no, no.

Lucius was the first to speak, his voice careful. "Your Highness... are you certain you left your notes in the room?"

Florian froze. His throat tightened. "Y-Yes, I did... why...?"

He asked even though he already knew.

Cashew stepped forward, nodding quickly. "I remember! His Highness was using them last night. I even helped organize the desk. But... they’re not there anymore. We searched the whole room."

Florian’s stomach dropped.

’How could that happen? They’re just... gone?’

A cold dread crawled up his spine. He hadn’t just misplaced them—someone had taken them.

And that could only mean—

Heinz approached now, sensing something was wrong. His voice was firmer this time. "What’s going on?"

And in that moment—Florian realized.

It clicked. The cut-up clothes. The tampered outfit. The missing notes.

It wasn’t a coincidence. It wasn’t bad luck.

It was intentional.

’Fuck.’

His face lost all color, his breath shallow as he stared at the ground, piecing it together too quickly for his liking.

Someone had sabotaged him.

Lucius, Lancelot, and Cashew all caught the change in his expression. They didn’t say anything. But from the way their eyes darkened with realization, they had come to the same conclusion.

They didn’t move. They waited—for him to speak.

Only Heinz stood unaware, looking directly at Florian now. "Florian," he said, voice low, sharp with concern. "What is going on?"

Florian’s hands clenched into the cape. His jaw tightened.

He didn’t want to say it.

Didn’t want to admit it aloud.

But he had no choice.

"Fuck," Florian muttered under his breath, the word slipping out like a shiver. His shoulders slumped, the last of his composure cracking.

He turned toward Heinz and took a deep, trembling breath.

’I don’t have a choice.’

Florian told Heinz everything that had happened that day.

He didn’t try to soften the truth. He spoke of how he found his clothes torn—how the outfit he wore now was simply a sewn-up version, hastily patched to hide the violation.

How he, Lucius, and Cashew were still unsure who was behind it. And now, how his notes—the ones he needed so desperately—had vanished without a trace.

How all signs pointed to the same intruder. No, not just "pointed." It was the same person. It had to be.

He spoke quietly, carefully, trying not to let the quiver in his voice show. But it was there, beneath the surface, and he knew Heinz could hear it.

He dared not look up at him. Not once.

Lucius, Lancelot, and Cashew stood silent, listening. Watching. They didn’t interrupt, though the air around them was tense, like a blade being slowly drawn.

Azure, still perched on Heinz’s shoulder, wasn’t moving either. The tiny dragon tilted his head, worried eyes flickering from Florian to Heinz.

Florian exhaled slowly. "And... the reason I didn’t want to tell Your Majesty right away," he admitted, "is because I was afraid you’d cancel the presentation.

But... the perpetrator might still be inside the palace right now. They were able to go into my room without anyone noticing and steal something that never should’ve been touched."

He fell silent then. The words had all spilled out, and now he waited—waited for Heinz’s response like a prisoner awaiting a verdict.

’Is he going to be angry that I kept this from him? That I made a decision on my own?’ Florian clenched the sides of his pants under the cape.

Heinz was quiet for a moment. But when he finally spoke, his voice was sharp, decisive.

"Lucius," he said, turning slightly without looking at him, "gather all the information you can. Check every servant. Every guard. Every guest. I don’t care who it is—if someone so much as breathed near Florian’s room, I want to know about it."

Florian blinked, glancing up instinctively. Heinz’s tone wasn’t just serious—it was furious, restrained only by the thin leash of royal composure.

"Lancelot," Heinz continued, "deploy every available guard. Someone got in. Someone who shouldn’t be here. Search every hallway, every shadow, every inch of this palace. If you fail to find even a hint of who it was, I’ll punish both of you myself."

Lucius and Lancelot bowed their heads slightly, their expressions cold and firm.

"Yes, Your Majesty," they said in unison.

Florian’s eyes widened slightly. Heinz rarely threatened his closest aides. For him to say this meant he was truly—truly—furious.

Not just because of the intrusion. Because someone had touched his person. And not even Florian’s lowered gaze could hide the truth anymore.

Then—"Cashew."

Florian flinched. Heinz almost never spoke directly to Cashew.

A sudden pit bloomed in Florian’s stomach.

’Why Cashew? Does he suspect him? Is he testing him? What if... what if Cashew was helping the "savior" after all...?’

Cashew startled too, but raised his head when Heinz addressed him. His hands curled into tiny fists at his sides.

"Take Azure with you," Heinz commanded. "He has a keen sense of smell. He may be able to trace whoever it was that entered the room. Follow his lead. Track them."

Florian’s eyes darted toward the small dragon, who immediately lifted off from Heinz’s shoulder and fluttered gently onto Cashew’s head. The sight of it—oddly comical and serious all at once—made Florian’s heart ache.

’But... I thought Azure was going to be with us during the presentation...’

Florian looked at Cashew then, really looked. And for the briefest moment, he couldn’t tell if Cashew was just determined to help—or determined to hide something.

’He nodded too fast... Is it guilt? Or loyalty? Or... is someone else behind this altogether?’

Cashew gave a firm nod. "Right away, Your Majesty."

"Good," Heinz said. "The three of you are dismissed."

Lucius didn’t waste time. He stepped forward, drew his transport ring, and with a flicker of light, all three vanished in an instant—leaving only the faintest ripple in the air behind them.

And just like that, Florian was alone with Heinz.

Florian’s throat went dry. His hands curled beneath the cape again, where they still trembled slightly.

He lifted his gaze slowly—submissively. Heinz was already staring at him. His crimson eyes sharp, intense, but unreadable.

He sighed.

"Florian..."

Florian swallowed thickly, heart hammering.

"Your majesty..."

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