Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight!-Chapter 355: ’Remember, Remembered.’

"Y-Your Majesty!"

Florian’s eyes lit up the moment he spotted Heinz walking down the corridor alongside Lucius, likely headed to breakfast with the princesses. The sight of him—tall, composed, radiant in his royal attire—made Florian’s heart flutter with hope.

Usually, seeing Heinz going off with them, with the women he shared his table and time with, would fill Florian with that all-too-familiar ache, the bitterness of being left behind.

But not today.

Not after last night.

The night Heinz had brought him to his chambers—had kissed him like he meant it, had held him like he mattered, had whispered words that felt like confessions of love between tangled sheets and breathless gasps.

It had to mean something.

No—it had meant something.

’Heinz loves me. He really does. He finally showed it. Last night proved it.’

A wide smile stretched across Florian’s face as he hurried forward, his steps light, almost giddy with anticipation. Lucius caught sight of him and blinked, visibly confused. The knights flanking Heinz, however, stepped forward immediately, blocking Florian’s path with outstretched arms.

’Huh?’

"Your Highness," one of the knights said with a strained tone, "please... not again today."

But Florian didn’t stop smiling.

"No... No, today’s different!" he beamed, glancing past the armored shoulders. "Heinz is going to tell you to let me through."

He turned his eyes to Heinz, ready to bask in his gaze, expecting warmth. Affection. Recognition.

But...

Heinz wasn’t looking at him.

Not even a flicker of acknowledgment.

Florian’s smile faltered. His chest tightened.

’Why... isn’t he looking at me? Last night... he couldn’t stop looking at me. He kissed me like I was everything. He held me like I was his world. Why—’

"Heinz..." Florian’s voice quivered as he took a hesitant step forward, eyes searching desperately for some sign of yesterday. "Heinz, why aren’t you looking at me again? Did I... did I do something wrong?"

Lucius’s brows furrowed in concern as he looked between the two, clearly just as baffled.

Heinz finally sighed, rubbing his temples.

"He’s talking even more nonsense," Heinz muttered, his tone cold, dismissive. "Get him out of here. I already have a massive headache."

And just like that, Florian could hear it—the sharp, shattering crack of his heart breaking.

Tears welled in his eyes before he even realized it. Hot, stinging, and unstoppable.

’No... no, this isn’t happening. I know it happened. I remember it—I felt it.’

Images from the night before flooded him in agonizing fragments—Heinz’s mouth on his skin, the whispered words, the gentle touches, the look in his eyes that had seemed so real. So true.

’That wasn’t a dream. It couldn’t have been.’

"No!" Florian cried, his voice trembling. "Heinz, listen to me! You... you love me! And I—I love you too!"

The corridor went still, the air tense with confusion and discomfort. All eyes were on Florian now—wide, uncertain, some pitying. Some disbelieving.

The knights didn’t hesitate. Strong hands gripped his arms as they began to drag him away.

"Wait! Please! Heinz, please, listen to me!" he pleaded, tears now streaming freely down his cheeks as he struggled against them, his voice raw and desperate. "Please!"

But Heinz... just walked away.

Not a glance. Not a word. Just footsteps echoing as he disappeared further down the corridor.

Florian fought harder, legs kicking, arms wrenching against the hold.

"Heinz!!"

Florian’s eyes shot open.

For a moment, he lay still, disoriented and sluggish, until a dull ache pulsed through his body. He groaned softly, dragging a hand across his face, muscles sore in places he hadn’t even known could hurt. He shifted—

—and promptly rolled off the edge of the couch.

Thud.

"Fuck," he hissed as his back hit the floor with a jolt. The impact sent a ripple of pain up his spine, and Florian winced, clutching his side. His body ached. His voice came out hoarse, throat dry and raw. It stung even to speak.

But then—

A flash.

A flicker.

Memories.

Lips on his neck. Hands holding onto his hair tightly.

His eyes widened in horror. He bolted upright.

’Holy shit.’

’Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit—’

His heart pounded in his chest like it was trying to escape. No. No way. That hadn’t actually happened. It couldn’t have happened. That had to be—

"So, you’re awake."

Florian froze.

His blood ran cold.

Slowly, stiffly, like a puppet with broken strings, he turned his head toward the bed.

There lay Heinz—half-covered by sheets, black hair slightly tousled, his usual perfect composure still somehow intact. His arms were crossed loosely over his chest as he looked down at Florian.

Wide awake.

Watching him.

’Oh my God.’

’Oh my fucking God, he’s awake—how long has he been awake?!’

Last night, after everything—after the heated touches, the confusing confessions, and a night that Florian couldn’t stop replaying in his mind—Heinz had fallen asleep almost instantly.

Out of sheer panic, Florian had refused to stay in bed beside him. He’d cleaned up, thrown on whatever clothes he could find, and collapsed on the couch in the corner of the room.

He hadn’t dared sleep too deeply. Cashew could’ve walked in. Lucius. Anyone.

He didn’t want anyone to know. Not yet. Not ever if he could help it.

’I thought I’d have time to process. Time to freak out. Time to breathe!’

But nope. Apparently, the universe hated him.

"Y-Your Majesty..." Florian croaked, voice cracking again as he scrambled to his feet. He kept his eyes on the floor, shoulders hunched like a scolded child. He couldn’t—he wouldn’t—look at Heinz directly.

Because the moment he did, he’d remember everything again.

"Good boy."

Florian’s eye twitched.

’AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA STOP STOP STOP—NOPE NOPE NO!’

He bit the inside of his cheek to suppress the scream building in his throat, trying desperately to force a strained, polite smile on his face.

He didn’t know what was worse—the memory of last night, or the possibility that Heinz might actually want to talk about it.

Was this it? Was Heinz going to confront him?

Was he going to kill him?

’Am I about to be executed? Is that a crime here? He was the one who asked me to do those things...’

Florian nearly vibrated out of his skin from anxiety. Last night, Heinz had been like a completely different person. More tender. More human. Was that just the alcohol? Was it something deeper?

And what the fuck was up with that weird dream he’d had after? That dream-Heinz had been... scummy.

Florian almost wanted someone to burst through the door right now and shoot him. Just end him. Let his soul be catapulted into another world—any world that wasn’t a tragic BL fantasy hellscape where he was a half-gay, half-self-aware main character with the worst luck known to man.

Preferably a world with air conditioning. And boundaries. And no emotionally confusing hot kings.

Meanwhile, the original soul of Florian—if he was even still in there—was probably taking full advantage of Heinz’s trust, laughing at him from deep inside his mind like a smug gremlin.

Heinz’s voice cut through the tension like a blade. "Are you going to tell me why I woke up in this room? Or do I have to guess myself?"

Florian blinked.

Wait. freeweɓnovel~cѳm

He looked up.

And then he saw it—confusion. Genuine, effortless confusion in Heinz’s eyes.

No anger. No smug smirk. No pointed, knowing remarks.

Just... puzzlement.

Hope, wild and dangerous, surged in Florian’s chest like a firecracker.

’He... He doesn’t remember?’

He nearly gasped. His heart flipped. His eyes lit up with sparkles so bright, he almost looked stupid.

"You... You don’t remember anything, Your Majesty?" he asked carefully, holding back the squeal threatening to escape his lips.

Heinz tilted his head, expression flat. "No. I woke up with a splitting headache and vague memories of drinking too much wine."

He shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Florian’s fists clenched at his sides, trembling.

’FUCK. YES!’

He nearly dropped to his knees in gratitude.

The universe had not abandoned him.

Not yet

✧༺ ⏱︎ ༻✧

Heinz remembered everything.

From the moment he raised his glass among the dukes to the hazy stumble down the palace halls... to the quiet knock on Florian’s door, and the events that followed. His memory wasn’t fragmented like it should’ve been. No patchy blur, no forgotten words, no convenient blackout.

No—he remembered every single detail of that night as if he had been sober to live it.

The taste of wine still lingered on his tongue in memory, but it was nothing compared to the way Florian had tasted.

He rubbed his temple, eyes narrowing slightly as he watched the young man fumble and squirm across the room, clearly trying to avoid his gaze.

’He looks happy that I don’t remember.’

Heinz studied him silently, almost too silently. He could see the tension in Florian’s shoulders, the awkward way he tried to feign calmness—like a child pretending innocence after shattering something priceless.

He had every reason to confront him. To demand an explanation. To take control of a situation that should have never spiraled to that point. And yet...

’Why don’t I feel angry?’

Because it had been... good. Strange, yes. Reckless, certainly. But not unpleasant. Not forced. Heinz had felt something that night—a rawness, a connection that he hadn’t experienced with anyone else. And that terrified him.

’What exactly am I feeling...?’

’Is it because of this Florian? Or... has it always been there, hiding beneath the surface even before?’

His thoughts tangled like threads in a fraying tapestry.

And then there was the other mystery.

Heinz’s gaze darkened as he leaned back slightly, fingers curling into his palm.

’Why do I remember anything at all?’

That had always been the rule—his curse, almost. In his first life, the moment alcohol touched his system, his memories scattered. A defense mechanism, perhaps. A flaw in his rebirth. But no matter how much he drank, his mind always shut the door on the night before.

Until now.

And then, haunting him even more than the vivid clarity of the night with Florian, was the dream. That dream.

’That dream I had...’

The source of this c𝐨ntent is fre𝒆w(e)bn(o)vel