Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight!-Chapter 345: ’Mommy Issues.’

"W-W-Wh..."

"All his things should be moved at once," Heinz said firmly, his voice cutting through the stunned silence like a blade. "And when I say all, I mean everything."

Florian watched Delilah’s expression twist into something caught between horror and disbelief. Her lips trembled, and her hands clenched at the hem of her apron.

’Ah. She looks like she’s about to break,’ Florian thought with a quiet sigh, already resigned to the chaos that had followed them here. Heinz, of course, continued as if none of it was worth acknowledging.

"Wait... wha—"

"I want this room to look exactly like his former one," Heinz added, scanning the room with a calculating gaze. "Though, of course, this room is significantly larger. He can decide what to do with the extra space."

Delilah’s face paled further with every word. Her mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. The woman looked moments away from passing out. Florian couldn’t even bring himself to be annoyed with her—this time, anyway. He was just as stunned, just better at hiding it.

’She’s just saying what I’m thinking anyway...’ he mused bitterly.

It had all happened so quickly.

The moment Heinz had declared Florian would be moving "now," he had a butler summon Delilah without giving Florian a chance to protest.

The other maids were undoubtedly busy being questioned by Lucius and Lancelot, but Delilah, as the head maid, had been personally pulled away. The urgency of it all had left no room for resistance.

Then came the magic.

Heinz had used his own magic—a rare sight—to instantly transport both of them to the king’s personal wing of the palace. Or as Florian had just learned, the Obsidian Hall.

Reserved solely for members of the royal family, it was a place rarely visited by outsiders. Just stepping into it had sent an anxious chill down Florian’s spine.

’I still don’t like the idea of moving here but it’s not like I have a choice.’

And then came the final blow.

"Your Majesty, t-this... this was your mother’s room," Delilah finally managed to stammer out, seizing her chance while Heinz was still distracted, inspecting the expansive chamber.

"Right it is," Heinz said simply, brushing a hand across the edge of a table without so much as a flinch.

Florian’s mouth went dry.

’What?’

He barely stopped himself from saying it aloud.

’The whole reason the original Florian got the cold shoulder was because of his mommy issues. He didn’t want a queen because of his mommy issues. So why is he suddenly giving me—no, lending me—her room?’

Delilah looked like she had stepped into a nightmare, her eyes wide and wild, her breath shallow.

And despite everything, Florian found himself feeling... sorry for her.

He didn’t like her. The woman never hid her dislike for him. But seeing her so unmoored like this tugged at something in his chest.

"There’s... a lot of rooms here. I-I do not understand. And even if—why is he moving here?" she asked, voice cracking, as her trembling hand pointed at Florian with open disbelief.

Florian braced himself, fully expecting Heinz to deflect or spin a lie. But the king, to his surprise, answered honestly.

"There have been several attempts to harm Florian," Heinz said bluntly. "He was targeted during the kidnapping, and poisoned during the ball."

"Poisoned?" Delilah’s voice shot up an octave, her eyes darting to Florian in alarm.

Of course, she didn’t know. No one did. Only those who had been there—Heinz, Lucius, Lancelot, Cashew, and Florian himself—were privy to what had really happened.

’If only it was just poison,’ Florian thought grimly. ’I wish it was. I wish I could forget how that aphrodisiac made me feel...’

He clenched his jaw, the phantom sensation crawling over his skin.

’Don’t even get me started on that dream. The worst part was—it was about him.’

He shoved the thought away just as Heinz continued, his voice taking on a darker tone.

"And today," he said sharply, "before the summit presentation, someone sabotaged the outfit Drizelous made for Florian and broke into his room. His notes were stolen."

The room fell into a suffocating silence.

Delilah’s face crumpled. Her eyes no longer carried just shock—they carried guilt. Or fear. Florian wasn’t sure which.

’Oh?’ His gaze narrowed slightly. ’Doesn’t she look...’

The woman was sweating. Actually sweating—in a palace where the temperature was kept chilly and crisp. Her trembling had only worsened.

"T-That happened...?" she asked, voice faint, almost afraid to speak.

’A bit too nervous?’

Florian couldn’t be sure. The rational part of him knew it could just be the weight of the information crashing down on her. But the other part—the wary, paranoid part—was now alert.

Heinz, either oblivious or unconcerned by her reaction, simply took the tie from his hair and let the long black strands fall around his shoulders as he turned toward her.

"I’ve decided to let Florian stay in the room next to mine," he said coolly. "And it just so happens to be my mother’s."

He stepped closer, and his tone turned razor-sharp. "In case you’re thinking of saying anything more, Delilah... I am not looking for anyone’s opinion right now. Just get some people to move his things. Now."

Delilah visibly flinched, her knees wobbling slightly. Her lips parted like she wanted to say something—protest, perhaps, or plead—but she caught herself. With a shaky breath and a deep bow, she muttered,

"As you wish, Your Majesty."

Heinz spoke no more, his crimson eyes glinting like dying embers as he turned to face Florian. "Get settled here for the meantime. I’ll also assign knights to guard the corridor. They’ll be stationed just outside your door," he said with finality, voice calm yet firm—like it was a decision already set in stone.

Florian parted his lips to reply, but before he could say a word, his gaze flickered to the side—catching Delilah’s expression just as Heinz turned away.

Her eyes, once cold, now blazed with open contempt. It was quick, the way she looked at him. A look sharp enough to slice skin, fleeting enough to deny it ever happened.

Then, without a word, she turned and walked out of the queen’s room, her back rigid with silent fury. The heavy door clicked shut behind her with a dull thud that echoed in Florian’s chest more than it did in the hall.

’Well, she definitely hates me even more now,’ Florian thought, lips twitching in a bitter almost-smile. ’But I really wonder...’

He exhaled softly through his nose, eyes narrowing.

’Could she be involved? Is Delilah connected to whoever’s been trying to get rid of me? Or is she the one pulling the strings?’

He couldn’t forget the way her face had gone pale earlier, the sweat trailing down her temples despite the crisp chill of the palace halls. It wasn’t the look of someone simply overwhelmed. No, it felt like fear—guilt, maybe.

But just as he was starting to spiral deeper into that thought, Heinz’s voice pulled him back.

"It’s been years since I’ve been inside this room," the king murmured, his gaze now slowly sweeping over the space as though trying to match it with faded memories.

Florian turned to him, his tone hesitant but curious. "I’m guessing... after your mother died?"

Heinz looked at him for a second, unreadable, before shaking his head.

"The last time I was here," he said, voice lower now, "was during her death."

’During... her death?’ Florian blinked, his spine straightening as unease crept up. ’Was he there when it happened? Wait. How did his mother even die? Did... did Kaz ever write about that? Did the original novel mention it at all?’

He rifled through his memory, mentally flipping through every scene he remembered. But no matter how hard he tried, there was nothing. Just a gaping silence where that answer should’ve been.

He wanted to ask Heinz.

But...

’He looks...’

Florian’s gaze softened as he watched Heinz stare at the ceiling—not in longing or nostalgia, but with a hollow, faraway look. The weight of memory seemed to pull down the corners of his mouth, his shoulders taut with something unspoken.

"You must be wondering how my mother died," Heinz said suddenly, not taking his eyes off the ceiling.

’Ah. I should’ve known he already knew what I was thinking.’

"You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, Your Majesty," Florian said gently, wary of pressing a wound that hadn’t healed.

But Heinz merely chuckled—a sound that was more breath than amusement. "You acting so coy sends shivers down my spine, Florian."

Florian rolled his eyes, the corner of his mouth twitching despite himself. Heinz let out another chuckle, deeper this time, but it died too quickly—like laughter choked by a ghost of grief. A beat of silence followed.

Then came the confession.

"She killed herself."

The words hit the air like a stone thrown into still water—rippled outward in silence and shock.

Florian’s eyes widened, breath catching in his throat. "What?" he blurted out, disbelief coating his voice.

Heinz still didn’t look at him. His gaze was steady now, fixed on nothing in particular.

"Or more specifically," he continued with clinical calm, "she hung herself. In this very room."

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