Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight!-Chapter 367: ’Heinz’s Anger.’

Heinz pauses, his back still turned to them. The magic surging through the air slowly faded, and the trembling of the stone walls settled into a suffocating stillness. Even the torches lining the dungeon flickered more gently now, as though fearful of what might come next.

His voice, when it came, was low but absolute.

"A hundred lashes to her back," Heinz said, tilting his head just enough to glance over his shoulder, his crimson eyes glowing faintly in the gloom. "Make sure every single person in the palace sees it."

’Lashes? Lashes as in...’ Florian’s heart skipped a beat. ’Public punishment? No—public humiliation?’

A chill ran down Florian’s spine as the words echoed in his mind, bouncing off the cold stone of the dungeon just like the clanking of Delilah’s chains.

Lucius stiffened, his brows subtly furrowing. "Public whipping? Your Majesty, isn’t that..." he trailed off, hesitant, as though weighing the cost of saying more.

Delilah’s body jerked in her chair. Her wide, horrified eyes brimmed with tears, but no words came—her mouth was still sealed by Heinz’s magic. Guttural noises of protest struggled against the silence imposed upon her, desperation crackling in every strangled hum.

The chains binding her wrists scraped sharply against the metal of the chair as she writhed.

But Heinz wasn’t finished. freewёbn૦νeɭ.com

"And have her exiled," he added, as if it were a mere afterthought.

The silence that followed was heavier than the shaking ground from before.

Florian felt a sharp pang in his chest.

’Public whipping and exile? Is that really... necessary?’

Delilah wasn’t innocent—but she wasn’t the orchestrator behind the darkest events either. She hadn’t kidnapped him. She hadn’t killed Heinz. She was a saboteur, yes—but not the architect of murder.

Florian’s thoughts flickered to Drizelous—Delilah’s son, one of the few people who actually seemed good in this wretched place. ’Drizelous will be devastated. He’ll hate this. He’ll hate Heinz... and maybe me too, for not stopping it.’

He took a hesitant step forward. "Your Majesty—ah—"

He didn’t get far.

Heinz turned, just enough to meet Florian’s gaze, and the look in his eyes rooted Florian to the spot.

Cold.

Serious.

Final.

It was the first time Heinz had looked at him like that since they’d bared their secrets to one another. A silent warning flared behind his burning red irises.

"Don’t," Heinz said. Just one word, but it landed like a slap.

The room fell even quieter.

Heinz turned back to Lucius and Lancelot, voice sharp with command. "If any of you interject about the punishment, then feel free to join her."

Florian’s breath caught in his throat.

"Inform everyone," Heinz went on, unrelenting. "Tell Drizelous the truth. Tell the court, the servants, the nobles. Everyone needs to understand: betrayal has consequences. I don’t care who the fuck you are."

Lucius bowed his head without protest. "As you wish, Your Majesty."

Lancelot followed, expression grim. "Understood."

Florian could still hear Delilah trying to speak—still gagged, still bound. She was sobbing now, heaving uncontrollably, her cries muffled and wet. Her face was red and tear-streaked, the kind of raw sorrow that tore at something deep inside him.

He hated her.

But he still felt bad.

Still, he knew better than to question Heinz right now. Not here. Not like this.

Heinz turned his gaze back to him, and the sharpness in his expression softened—just slightly—only for Florian.

"Come," he said.

Florian blinked. ’Come?’

He wasn’t sure what surprised him more—Heinz’s gentleness toward him, or the fact that he wanted him to follow, while Delilah was still sobbing behind them.

Heinz began walking.

Florian lingered for a moment, glancing at the scene left behind.

Delilah, shattered and helpless, chained and crying.

Lucius and Lancelot, still kneeling, heads bowed in obedience.

The knights at the entrance, visibly pale, unsure whether to look away or not.

’Fuck.’ His fingers curled into fists. ’This is such a mess.’

He finally followed after Heinz, footsteps echoing behind the king’s.

The air outside the dungeon felt almost too fresh, too normal, compared to the storm of emotion that had just raged beneath.

Everything had happened so quickly.

Too quickly.

Within minutes, a storm had formed, burst, and blown away, leaving wreckage in its wake.

Florian didn’t know where Heinz was taking him—and, truthfully, he didn’t want to ask.

He could still feel it.

The rage, simmering and sharp, pouring off of Heinz in invisible waves as they walked. Every step echoed with a tension that coiled around Florian’s chest like a rope pulled tight. He followed in silence, two steps behind, like a shadow.

Then, without warning, Heinz raised his hand.

In an instant, the air around them shimmered—like glass rippling in water—and the cold stone halls of the dungeon vanished. Warmth and light replaced the damp chill as they reappeared in the royal wing of the palace. The sudden shift in surroundings made Florian blink.

’Oh...’ he realized, a small pang of unease curling in his stomach. ’We’re in the royal wing. Are we... going to his room?’

He expected an office. Or a private chamber for discussion. Maybe a strategy hall or a sitting room where one could still keep a mask of decorum. But this—this felt personal.

’I assumed we were going to his office. Or at least... I don’t know. Somewhere less... intimate.’

Florian followed quietly, still not daring to speak, even as Heinz opened the heavy doors to his chamber and stepped inside. Not a word passed between them as Florian hesitated at the threshold—then entered.

The silence weighed heavier now, like the air itself was holding its breath.

Florian stood just near the door, uncertain. Heinz, in the center of the room, began shedding his layers. One by one, every lavish royal coat, every fur-lined cape and ornamental sash, until he was left in just a black dress shirt, his tall form outlined by the soft golden light filtering through the velvet curtains.

’What... am I doing here? Why did he even bring me?’ Florian thought, watching as Heinz stood still, back turned again, his long black hair cascading down his shoulders like silk ink.

Then—

Snap.

The sound was sharp and sudden.

A translucent forcefield instantly flickered into existence around Florian, encasing him like a protective bubble. He gasped.

"Huh?" Florian blinked rapidly, raising a hand to touch the surface of the glowing barrier. "Your Majesty...?"

But Heinz didn’t respond.

He didn’t even glance at him.

Instead, the air shifted again—only this time, it thickened. Magic pulsed. Florian could feel it in the floor, in his bones.

Heinz’s hair began to rise with the crackle of arcane energy. The room trembled. The walls groaned. And then—

Destruction.

Magic exploded from Heinz’s body like a storm unleashed.

"Y-Your Majesty?!" Florian cried, eyes wide in horror.

Spells erupted in furious bursts as Heinz let his anger consume everything around him. His bed was torn apart in a flash of force magic, the canopy shattering into splinters. The grand mahogany desk snapped in half, its pieces flung into opposite walls. Vases imported from foreign lands crumbled to dust under explosive waves. The walls cracked. Paintings burned.

It was chaos. Absolute, terrifying chaos.

Mana stones embedded in the walls lit up violently, flickering with unstable light as they amplified Heinz’s power. They were everywhere—lines of glowing violet running like veins through the room’s structure. Florian realized with a jolt—

’The walls... they’re lined with mana stones. That’s why he can do this. That’s why he always has magic here. This entire room is built for it.’

Still, the forcefield held. Not a single tremor touched Florian.

He was completely safe inside his barrier. Untouched. Unharmed.

’He made sure I wouldn’t get hurt... Even while he’s losing control.’

Florian’s throat tightened.

Why?

Why had Heinz brought him here—just to witness this?

Was it rage? A need to destroy something in private? A tantrum held back too long, finally allowed to spill out in a place only he could see?

Or was it something deeper?

This wasn’t just anger. This was heartbreak. Betrayal. Pain.

Florian flinched as a chair splintered near Heinz’s feet, but his eyes never left the man in the middle of it all.

’He’s completely out of control. But... why now? Why me?’

Delilah’s betrayal must’ve shattered something in him. Heinz didn’t trust many people. He kept his circle small, tight, like a fortress. And now—one of the people inside had betrayed him. Or, at least, that’s how it must have felt.

But the thing that didn’t sit right with Florian—

’Technically... he wasn’t betrayed.’

Delilah’s sabotage had been for Heinz’s sake, not against him. She believed Florian was dangerous to the king—believed she was protecting him. That twisted loyalty might’ve pushed her to cruelty, but it wasn’t the same as treason.

So why this level of rage?

’A lot of things aren’t adding up...’ Florian thought, stepping back as the forcefield hummed softly, the room still rattling with Heinz’s fury. ’Delilah admitted to what happened yesterday—but not the earlier ones. If two people were targeting me before... then there are still others out there. Delilah was only the third—and her reason wasn’t even personal. It was for Heinz.’

That unsettled him more than anything.

’This wasn’t justice. This was personal. But personal for what?’

Heinz’s anger didn’t last long—though to Florian, it felt like forever.

After nearly ten minutes of magical destruction, the king finally stopped. He stood motionless in the center of what used to be a room and was now a war zone. His shoulders rose and fell with deep, uneven breaths.

Then the forcefield vanished.

The silence returned, heavy and suffocating, draped over them like smoke from dying embers.

Florian didn’t know if he should speak. Heinz was panting, his black shirt torn in places from his own magic, his long hair now messy, his eyes shadowed.

’He’s not saying anything...’

Despite every instinct telling him to stay still—to wait—Florian’s feet moved.

He took a cautious step forward.

Then another.

The air was warmer now, but Florian’s skin prickled as if he were walking into fire.

Slowly, he reached out. "Your... Majesty..."

No response.

And then—

Warmth.

Sudden. Firm.

Florian blinked in shock as he found himself pulled forward, enveloped in strong arms. Heinz had turned, and without a word, had wrapped him into a tight, desperate embrace.

A hug.

A hug.

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