Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight!-Chapter 362: ’Petty.’

Everyone turned to look at Florian the moment he blurted out, "Are you kidding?"

To the others at the long dining table, it must’ve seemed like a reaction to King Heinz’s response to Alexandria’s proposal. A surprised outburst—perhaps from shock.

But it wasn’t.

It was because Heinz had ignored him. Ignored him—yet had no problem responding to Alexandria with ease.

And it pissed him off.

"Is there a problem, Your Highness?" Alexandria asked, blinking innocently at him with that gentle smile she always wore.

Florian blinked back, gaze sweeping briefly over her, then flicking toward the assembled dukes, all of whom were watching him now with varying degrees of curiosity. And then, finally, to Heinz.

The king didn’t even glance in his direction.

Florian let out a small, quiet sigh. One that carried the weight of a thousand unspoken annoyances.

"No," he said, pulling a smile onto his lips like a mask he’d worn a hundred times. "It was a positive response. I simply didn’t expect things to move this quickly, but I’m happy."

His words sounded fake even to his own ears. Hollow. Paper-thin.

But no one questioned it. Of course they didn’t. Why wouldn’t he be happy? The king had agreed to implement the very plans Florian had suggested days ago. A triumph, on paper.

Alexandria beamed. "For a second, I thought you were upset," she said with a soft laugh.

"Me as well," added Nividea with a sweet smile, and just like that, the attention dispersed. The table’s conversation resumed as cutlery scraped over porcelain, goblets were lifted, and everyone resumed eating.

Florian laughed too. Hollowly.

’I’m not upset,’ he thought darkly, ’just pissed.’

Because Heinz wasn’t just being distant—he was being openly petty.

After what happened last night—after practically coming onto him—now he was pretending like nothing happened? Like he was invisible?

Florian pressed his lips together and returned to his food, though the taste had soured. The stew was supposed to be rich and warm, yet it tasted bitter on his tongue. He chewed slowly, methodically, all the while trying not to let the irritation simmer too close to the surface.

As if the situation wasn’t bad enough—he still didn’t know who the perpetrator was. He was juggling suspicion, paranoia, and now this. Heinz’s sudden coldness.

What was worse?

"Oh, and Your Majesty..." Alexandria leaned closer, her voice lilting as she spoke.

Alexandria kept speaking.

And Heinz?

"Yes, well..." The king answered her, voice smooth, regal. Attentive.

He kept answering.

They were in the middle of him—Florian sat between them—and yet it was like he wasn’t even there.

Like Heinz wanted to make a show of ignoring him.

Florian’s fingers clenched around his fork.

They weren’t even close, Heinz and Alexandria. Not like this. But ever since they’d started planning that ridiculous fake test together, they’d begun talking more, smiling more.

Had something changed?

Had Alexandria and Heinz grown closer... because of that?

’Good for them, then,’ Florian thought bitterly, stabbing a piece of meat with far more force than necessary. ’If that’s what they want, they can have each other. Just don’t do it over my goddamn shoulder.’

The irritation pulsed in his chest like a slow, dull burn.

But he had better things to focus on. The poisoner. The potential suspects. This petty drama wasn’t worth his energy.

Still—

"Lady Alexandria," Florian interrupted smoothly, turning toward her with a polite smile. Her conversation with Heinz stuttered to a stop.

"Yes?" she asked, blinking in surprise.

"Would you like to switch seats with me? I was hoping to speak with Lady Athena and the other heirs seated on your side. I’d appreciate the opportunity."

Alexandria looked stunned for half a second, then—positively delighted. Her eyes sparkled with a smile as she nodded quickly.

"Thank you," she whispered as they traded seats and plates. She probably thought he was doing her a favor. Helping her get closer to the king. Maybe, in a twisted way, it was a favor. But mostly, Florian just didn’t want to sit there and watch Heinz flirt over his goddamn dinner plate.

He didn’t glance at Heinz. He didn’t need to. He could feel that heavy presence—the petty cold shoulder—still lingering like a ghost beside him.

’Let him stew in it,’ Florian thought. ’I’m not playing this game.’

Once seated beside Athena, with Scarlett on her other side, both women turned their eyes on him like hawks sensing a shift in wind.

"Why did you switch?" Scarlett asked, raising a skeptical brow.

"They were having a conversation," Florian replied under his breath, lifting his goblet casually as if nothing were amiss.

"Why do you seem angry then?" she pressed, voice low and sharp.

Florian’s lips curled into a faint, practiced smile. "Me? Angry? No."

"Uh huh," Scarlett muttered dryly, clearly not buying it. Athena, meanwhile, simply watched them with her usual calm curiosity, a small smile playing at her lips.

Surprisingly, the sight of both of them eased something in his chest. Just a little.

Looking at Athena and Scarlett now—two people he had come to trust—Florian felt something close to relief.

’It’s not them,’ he thought. ’I don’t think it’s them.’

And as long as it wasn’t someone close to him—someone he’d let in—then he could breathe a little easier. That was the real fear, wasn’t it?

Being betrayed by someone you trusted.

"By the way, Your Highness. Are you ready for your test tomorrow?" Athena asked, her soft voice weaving its way into the noise of casual conversation as she turned to face him with a curious tilt of her head.

Right.

The test was tomorrow.

Florian blinked. For a moment, the mention of it hadn’t registered.

’What a drag.’

He wasn’t exactly dreading it... but he certainly wasn’t looking forward to it either. It was just another one of Heinz’s glorified performances—something he had cooked up to challenge the princesses under the guise of fairness, and yet, somehow, Florian had been thrown into it.

He wasn’t supposed to be excited. He had to be excited.

Florian opened his mouth to give a properly crafted, diplomatic answer—some mix of nerves and enthusiasm—but someone else beat him to the punch.

"What test?" Duke Cedric’s voice rang out smoothly across the table, the amusement in his smile veiled behind polite curiosity.

Scarlett answered before Florian could even take a breath.

"Oh, well... as you all know, His Highness was allowed to become a candidate for queen despite being male, but His Majesty asked us to design a test for him first. He created one for us before the ball, so it’s only fair," she said with an easy shrug, her tone light but enthusiastic.

Cedric raised his brows, interest glinting in his eyes. "Are you sure you want to be queen?" he asked casually, but the question landed like a weight in Florian’s chest.

The table quieted, just slightly.

Florian stared at him for a second too long. He hadn’t expected that question—not so openly, not so directly.

For a moment, he couldn’t think of what to say. His mind scrambled, not out of fear, but surprise.

’Why is he asking me that? What is he trying to imply?’

"He seems like he’d make a good queen, Father. Why would you ask him that?" Nevideus interjected, frowning faintly as he looked between them.

Cedric’s gaze didn’t waver. "Well, I am in need of a duchess," he said with smooth finality.

"After his presentation, I believe the prince is more suited to a higher position than just another member of the harem. His Majesty has no shortage of beautiful princesses—but I, personally, find myself intrigued by you." His eyes flicked directly to Florian.

Florian’s spine stiffened, and his lips parted slightly in disbelief.

’Is this really happening? In front of everyone?’

"Oh my," Mira murmured, covering her lips delicately with a napkin, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Are you saying what I think you’re saying, Lord Frostblade?" Eleonor asked, arching a brow as he leaned forward.

Nividea lit up as if she’d just heard the juiciest piece of gossip. "Oh! Dad wants Prince Florian to be the duchess!" she exclaimed with a bright grin, as if this were all part of some delightful matchmaking game.

’What?’

Florian blinked.

’Wait... don’t they have a mother?’

Cedric chuckled and reached out to pat Nividea’s head gently. "It seems Nividea agrees."

Then, in a voice colder and much sharper than usual, Alaric suddenly spoke.

"If the prince were to marry in Concordian Nobility, it shouldn’t be to someone who’s already been married multiple times and is over a decade older than him," he said, his gaze slicing toward Cedric. "If anything, my son is in need of a duchess once he becomes duke."

The shift in tone was jarring.

Florian’s eyes snapped to Alaric, stunned.

’His son...?’

Lucas. Lucius’ older brother. The realization struck him like a slap.

Across the table, both Lucius and Lucas stiffened visibly. Lucas cleared his throat with a strained cough.

"Father," he said, his voice tight, "are you seriously trying to set me up with a member of His Majesty’s harem... in front of His Majesty?"

Alaric didn’t even flinch. "What’s the issue? We’re all adults here. Nobles, at that. We understand politics." He slowly set his fork down with a soft clink.

"The prince—and the princesses—are symbols of alliances. Strategic placements. Surely His Majesty doesn’t mind, right? After all..." He let the pause drag, a slow smirk curling at the edge of his mouth. "I hear he’s not that interested in the prince."

’So, that’s his game. Now he wants to nab me from the king.’

A silence fell. Heavy. Cold.

Every eye turned, as if drawn by gravity, to Heinz—who had, until now, remained unreadable and still. Sitting at the head of the table, his posture calm, regal.

But Florian knew that face.

And Florian knew he should’ve expected Heinz to brush it off, to let the veiled insult slide with a smirk or indifferent chuckle. ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm

That was how this game was played.

Florian was still useful to him—he wouldn’t give him away yet. He wouldn’t cause a scene.

Right?

But then—

The flicker of something dangerous lit behind Heinz’s eyes. A glint. Red. Burning.

He was staring—no, glaring—at both Cedric and Alaric. The usual detached amusement was gone, stripped away to something raw and sharp beneath.

The room tensed.

Even the air felt thinner.

And then Heinz spoke, voice low and laced with quiet fury.

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