Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight!-Chapter 358: ’The One Who Started The Problem.’

"My, my, did anything else happen yesterday? I heard from His Majesty that your presentation was quite the success... but why are you so stiff, darling prince?" Drizelous asked with a theatrical pout, as he delicately helped Florian slide into the upper half of his new outfit, his long fingers fluttering like a seamstress possessed by divine inspiration.

Drizelous, evidently too excited to let things play out naturally, had jumped ahead before Heinz and Florian could exchange a single word.

He was like a whirlwind of silks, pins, and sparkles, unable to wait another second for Florian to wear the ensemble he had poured his soul into the night before.

Apparently, the designer had stayed up until dawn sewing as compensation for the outfit that had been torn to shreds during yesterday’s chaos.

"Hah. I do wish they’d caught the maniac who did it," Drizelous muttered with a sudden drop in tone—quieter, darker.

Florian blinked. Something about the way he said it sent a small chill up his spine. ’That... didn’t sound like Drizelous. Odd.’ But he didn’t have time to linger on it.

Because Heinz was still there.

Still shirtless.

Still sitting on the edge of his bed like he owned it.

And Azure, his small dragon companion, had woken and was now comfortably nestled in Heinz’s lap. The king’s hand gently ran along Azure’s sleek blue scales in slow, precise strokes—movements that were far too smooth. Far too deliberate.

The rhythm, the intimacy of it—it mimicked something else entirely.

Florian bit the inside of his cheek. ’Why does this look... suggestive? Am I...seeing things? I’m being too sensitive right now, right?’

Azure’s sharp blue eyes locked onto Florian, calm but intense. He looked far too knowing for a creature so small.

And that’s when it hit Florian again.

The memory of last night.

The way Azure had suddenly acted strange—needy, licking, biting, whining like a creature in heat—and how he himself had reacted.

Just like Heinz, who had drunkenly pinned him down.

’No. No. Don’t think about that. Don’t you dare think about that again—’

But it was too late.

His body remembered. It reacted before his brain could shut it down.

’No, no, nope. BAD thoughts. Think about bad thoughts. Like taxes. Or rotting fruit. Think about anything else. Heinz is right there and you’re—ugh.’

Florian forced his gaze back to Drizelous, doing everything in his power to suppress the shame twisting in his gut and the heat crawling up his neck.

"Are you alright, Your Highness?" Drizelous asked suddenly, his still very serious. "Perhaps His Majesty was right... was your bath water too hot? Your face is red again."

It was rare for Drizelous to drop his usual flamboyance, which only made the question worse.

Florian gave a weak, awkward laugh. "Yes, I... I guess so..."

Drizelous raised a perfectly shaped brow at him, clearly unconvinced. But, mercifully, he said nothing more and simply continued his work—buttoning the final piece of Florian’s new outfit: a sleek black, red, and gold design, the symbolic Obsidian royal colors.

’Come to think of it... this will be the first time I’ll be seen in by everyone wearing the royal colors. Everyone being the princesses...’

The realization hit him like a stone.

’That’s going to be awkward. Especially for Alexandria and—oh no.’

Alexandria.

Florian’s stomach dropped.

’After everything that happened last night... how the am I supposed to face her?’

He had promised to help her become queen. He had vowed to support her love for Heinz.

And yet... this stupid, traitorous body had given in. To Heinz. To his drunken touches. To his lips. To his voice.

’I’m the worst. Absolutely the worst.’ Florian slumped slightly, shame coiling around his spine like a snake.

"Raise your head, Your Highness. I am done! Feast your eyes!" Drizelous announced proudly, practically glowing as he pulled out a tall, golden full-length mirror and rolled it toward him like a ceremonial offering.

Florian straightened and stared into the mirror—and couldn’t help the quiet gasp that escaped his lips.

He looked stunning.

The same princely silhouette as yesterday, but far more refined. Embroidered with intricate obsidian-black patterns over crimson and gold thread, and around his waist—a sheer, gossamer fabric that hugged his frame and gave subtle glimpses of skin underneath. Not indecent. Just... enough.

Elegant. Daring. Sensual.

"...This suits you as well," Drizelous said, eyes shimmering with pride. "Though you did look magnificent yesterday."

Florian gave a small nod, unable to argue.

He looked... like a prince. But as Aden, he couldn’t help but squirm a little. It was too elegant. Too... pretty.

"Hm. Not bad," Heinz commented at last.

Florian’s brow twitched slightly at the faint praise—until the king’s voice dropped lower, more sultry.

"Not bad at all."

That tone—it sent an involuntary shiver down Florian’s spine.

And then, the flashbacks returned.

Heinz’s voice from last night.

"Good boy."

"Breathe through your nose, Florian. That’s it. You’re doing so well."

The same deep, intoxicating tone.

’FUCK! STOP THINKING ABOUT IT ALREADY!’

Florian forced a shaky smile toward Heinz. "You flatter me, Your Majesty."

Heinz’s lips curved into a slow smirk as he stood, that damnable smugness painted all over his face.

He walked toward Florian.

Slow. Deliberate.

Each step echoing in Florian’s ears like a countdown to doom.

Florian’s forehead was already damp with sweat. ’Why is he walking over? What does he want? Oh no. OH NO—’

Then Heinz stopped in front of him, eyes glittering with mischief.

"Florian..." he whispered, voice like silk.

Florian swallowed hard. "Y-Yes, Your Majesty?"

A hand touched his waist.

A large, warm, very real hand.

Florian’s heart skipped.

’W-What is he doing?!’

Panic. Confusion. Heat. Fear. Longing. All at once, clashing like cymbals in his head.

Did Heinz remember?

Was he still drunk?

Was he teasing him?

But then—

He was pushed gently aside.

"It’s my turn to wear my clothes. Move aside," Heinz said, his expression unreadable.

Florian stood frozen for a moment, blinking.

Now, Florian knew he should be relieved—rationally, anyway. But instead, his entire body was tense, buzzing with a mixture of humiliation and heat that refused to fade.

’This... bastard...!’ Florian spun around quickly, his curls bouncing slightly as he tried to hide the scowl pulling at his lips. His face burned—not just from the residual warmth of Heinz’s touch, but from the raw embarrassment clawing at his insides.

’I hate him so fucking much!’

It felt like Heinz was teasing him on purpose. Every glance, every slow step, every barely-there graze of skin—intentional. Deliberate.

’He’s toying with me. He has to be. That smug look—that damn hand on my waist!’

But it didn’t add up. None of it did.

’Does he... actually remember?’ Florian’s brows drew together as his mind spiraled. ’But that wouldn’t make sense. No—it couldn’t. If he did, I wouldn’t be standing here in one piece. He would’ve had me executed for touching him. Or tortured. Or worse.’

Even if, by some twist of fate, Heinz had feelings for the original Florian... that wasn’t him. That Florian was long gone—dead by Heinz’s own command.

’Besides, he was drunk out of his mind. Completely out of it. Passed out. He’s obviously a lightweight.’

So no—Heinz couldn’t remember what happened.

And yet...

’Then why the fuck is he acting like this?!’ Florian wanted to scream, to punch a pillow, to run out of the room and dunk his head in an icy river.

Florian didn’t know if he was the problem because now it’s starting to feel like he was the problem, but how could HE be the problem when Heinz was the one who caused his problems in the first place!

’This is so frustrating! So frustrating! AHHHHHH—’

His inner scream was abruptly cut off by a sharp, clear knock at the door.

Everyone in the room froze, heads turning in near unison—everyone except Heinz. The king’s expression shifted the moment the knock echoed, his teasing smirk fading into something colder, more composed.

Almost as if... he’d been expecting it.

’Could that be...?’ Florian’s gaze darted to Heinz, who didn’t move, and then to the door.

Cashew, sensing the tension but saying nothing, quietly padded over and pulled the doors open with practiced grace.

And just as Florian feared—no, expected—he saw them.

Lucius.

And Lancelot.

Both standing tall, stiff-backed, dressed in formal attire, and both wearing expressions carved from stone.

Florian’s heart sank into his stomach.

’Oh no.’

Lucius’s golden eyes swept across the room like a predator assessing a battlefield—sharp, precise, and unreadable. His gaze paused the moment it landed on Florian, and for just a fleeting second, something shifted.

A flicker of softness—almost imperceptible—brushed past his stoic mask.

But Lancelot... Lancelot looked like a storm barely contained. His jaw was clenched tight, lips pressed in a grim line, and his fiery orange eyes flicked between Heinz and Florian.

’Oh no.’

The air between them all grew taut, thick with unspoken tension—like a wire stretched too tight, one wrong move away from snapping.

’It doesn’t seem like they’re bringing good news...’

Heinz rose from the edge of the bed with a fluid grace, casually lifting a hand to halt Drizelous, who had just begun adjusting the fabric at his shoulders.

"Lucius. Lancelot," Heinz said coolly, his voice low and commanding. "Those faces better not mean what I think they mean. You remember what I told you."

Right. Heinz had made it clear—if they came back empty-handed, there would be consequences. Painful ones.

Lucius gave a slow shake of his head. "No, Your Majesty... Actually—"

Lancelot stepped forward beside him, his voice firm, but grave. "We found the culprit. Or rather... the culprit confessed."

Everything in Florian’s body stilled.

’What?’

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