Florian's breath caught in his throat. Instinctively, he tucked a trembling hand against his chest, pressing his back flat to the wall.

His heart was pounding so hard he swore it would give him away.

He didn't move. He couldn't. He stayed still—listening. Waiting.

He waited until Asher's voice faded, until the echo of footsteps began to retreat down the corridor.

Only then did he dare to exhale, shaky and uneven.

'They have an agreement… for me. No— for Florian—to never go back to Floramatria?'

His thoughts spun wildly, every word hitting like a hammer to his ribs.

How long had Heinz been planning this? How much had he known?

'Did I make it too obvious? Was it because I spoke of Florian's family family too much, or because I hesitated when he asked me to stay?'

He felt sick.

All this time—he thought Heinz was trying. He thought the king's repentance, his apologies, his kneeling… meant something.

'He said he wanted to atone. He said he wanted to keep me safe.'

Florian bit his lip so hard he almost drew blood. The taste of iron lingered on his tongue.

'Was that all a lie? Again?'

The anger came slow this time—not the sharp, roaring fury he usually felt when Heinz betrayed him—but something quieter, heavier.

A dull, suffocating ache that settled in his chest and refused to move.

He squeezed his shaking hands together, staring blankly at the floor.

'Of course it was. What did I even expect…?'

His throat tightened painfully. The answer was obvious, but saying it—even in his own mind—hurt more than he thought it would.

He had expected something good.

He had expected change.

He had hoped.

Florian wanted to deny it.

He wanted to tell himself he'd never been that naive, that he'd never believed Heinz could truly care for him beyond obsession. But he knew better.

He could feel it—deep inside, in the aching place where his anger always burned the hottest.

It wasn't just anger anymore.

It was disappointment.

It was heartbreak.

And it hurt because, despite everything…he really had hoped.

'God, I really am just as stupid as the original.'

The thought cut through him like glass. Florian blinked rapidly, trying to force the tears back, but they blurred his vision anyway.

His chest rose and fell unevenly, and he dragged in a shaky breath, pressing his back against the wall for support.

He heard it—Asher's fading footsteps, confident and unhurried.

Then the heavy sigh of a door closing, Heinz's door, and silence swallowed the corridor again.

Florian clenched his jaw, his throat tightening as his reflection trembled faintly against the polished floor.

"Get yourself together," he whispered hoarsely, scrubbing at his face with trembling fingers. "You…"

The words trailed off, crumbling under the weight of his own voice.

'Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.'

His thoughts were raw, furious, desperate—each one echoing louder than the last.

The tears he'd been fighting finally broke free, slipping past his shaking hands as he covered his face. His breath hitched, uneven, the sound of quiet sobs echoing faintly in the empty hall.

His shoulders shook. The air felt heavy and cold.

'Why does it hurt this much? Why does it have to hurt when it's him?'

Florian thought he'd stopped caring, Heinz found a new way to prove him wrong.

A new way to twist the knife deeper.

Florian pressed his palms harder against his eyes, as if he could block out everything—the memory of Heinz's voice, Asher's smug tone, the hollow ache clawing at his chest.

He wanted to stop crying.

He wanted to be angry, to be strong.

But the betrayal bled too deep, the disappointment too sharp.

And as more tears slipped through his fingers, Florian realized the truth he hated most—that no matter how much he told himself he was different from the original Florian, right now, he felt exactly the same.

Foolish.

All the memories—the pain, the fear, the heartbreak—bled together.

The original Florian's agony mingled with his own until it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.

It was suffocating.

'Make it stop.'

His head pounded as flashes of memories struck him like lightning—Heinz's cold eyes from that first life, the echo of a blade, the sickening weight of betrayal, and now, the fresh sting of it all repeating again.

The ache was no longer just emotional; it was physical.

Florian gripped his stomach, doubling over slightly as nausea clawed its way up his throat.

His vision blurred, not from tears this time, but from sheer, dizzying overload.

It was too much.

Too many emotions—too much sorrow, anger, grief, and humiliation all at once. It churned violently inside him, fighting to escape.

He wanted to scream.

He wanted to throw up.

He wanted to tear this pain out of his chest and leave it bleeding on the marble floor.

But he couldn't.

He forced himself to breathe. In. Out. In. Out.

His fingers trembled as he wiped his eyes again and again until his skin burned from the friction.

The tears wouldn't stop.

He wiped harder.

They still came.

Finally, he pressed his palms over his eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to steady his shaking.

Then, with one long exhale, he swallowed down everything—the bile, the hurt, the heartbreak. He shoved it all back into the hollow of his chest where no one could see it.

He couldn't afford to break now. Not again.

'Enough.'

Florian straightened, his body still trembling but his gaze hardening. His heartbeat was a drum of fury, his breaths sharp and deliberate.

'Time to talk to that son of a bitch.'

He clenched his fists so tight his knuckles went white.

This time—no running, no crying, no hesitation.

This time, he wasn't going to let Heinz lie to make him feel shitty again.

✧→ ⏱︎ ←✧

Heinz was unraveling.

The quiet in his study felt heavier than usual—thicker, almost suffocating—as if the walls themselves were closing in on him.

His hand trembled slightly as he rubbed at his temple, the weight of his thoughts pressing down until his breath came in shallow bursts.

Everything had caught up to him.

The chaos.

The guilt.

The memories.

He had forgotten all about his conversation with Asher—forgotten the words, the agreement, the manipulation hiding behind the politeness.

Because how could he think of politics when all he could see, all he could feel, was Florian?

And now that he remembered—truly remembered—his heart felt like it was tearing itself apart.

'My baby.' 𝘧𝓇ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝘣𝓃ℴ𝓋𝑒𝑙.𝑐𝘰𝑚

He whispered the words to himself, almost afraid of hearing them aloud. His voice cracked on the last syllable.

"My…" He swallowed hard, running a trembling hand through his hair. "My baby."

The words carried the weight of two lifetimes—one lost, one repeating.

His and Florian's baby.

The baby he killed when he killed Florian.

The baby that Florian had carried alone, in pain and fear, waiting for a man who never came.

Heinz's chest ached. He gripped the edge of his desk, knuckles white, as his breath hitched.

'He must've suffered so much.'

Florian—his Florian—had hoped, even until the end, that Heinz would remember their love. That he would come back to him.

Instead, Heinz had destroyed him.

He could still see it—the flicker of shock and heartbreak in the original Florian's eyes when he died.

The despair.

The disbelief. And now, another life later, Heinz had somehow managed to break him again.

The same body.

The same boy.

Different soul.

He'd sworn that this time, he would protect him. That this time, he'd make things right.

But instead… Florian was in danger again.

Because of him.

Because of his choices.

Because of the man he chose to become.

Heinz slammed his palm down on the table, the sound echoing through the room like a crack of thunder.

Papers fluttered to the ground, his breath sharp, his vision blurring.

His heart felt heavy with every mistake he'd made—every sin he could never undo.

'How many more times do I have to lose him before I learn?'

He clenched his jaw, his voice barely a whisper.

It didn't help that amid all the chaos—the unrest in the kingdom, the nobles' whispers, the nobles' suspicion—there was still him.

The Florian standing before him now… and the one still trapped inside.

The original.

Heinz knew. He knew that both of them were still there—two souls sharing the same fragile body, two versions of the same person he had failed to protect. And he knew what that meant.

He knew what Florian—his Florian—would demand of him.

That he bring the original back.

That he find a way to send the current one home—to his world, to his body, to Aden.

'How?'

The thought clawed at his mind, raw and relentless. 'How could I possibly do that? How could I fix something I destroyed with my own hands?'

He ran a hand down his face, the motion slow, weary. His chest felt tight, and he slumped slightly forward on his chair.

The truth he couldn't escape was simple—he loved them both.

The Florian who smiled shyly and followed him into ruin.

The Florian who glared at him now, alive and burning with fury.

He loved them both, and it was killing him.

The lines between guilt, love, and madness blurred until he couldn't tell which was which anymore.

He wanted to atone—truly, he did—but where did he even begin?

'How do you atone for something like that?'

He wanted to do something—anything. To fix, to rebuild, to be worthy of him again.

But before he could think further, before he could even breathe, his office door burst open with a sudden, sharp clang.

Heinz shot up instantly, instincts kicking in. "Who goes there?"

His voice thundered through the room, low and dangerous.

No one—no one—ever entered his office without permission, much less without knocking.

His hand shot up, the air around him crackling faintly as he prepared to strike—until his eyes caught movement.

A figure.

A familiar one.

And in an instant, every ounce of tension bled from his body.

That face.

That same, delicate face he had memorized long before the world had turned cruel.

The one he loved so foolishly—so endlessly—that even in another lifetime, it haunted him.

The anger in his chest melted into something softer. His fingers loosened, his breath unsteady.

And then, with a faint, almost disbelieving smile, Heinz whispered—his voice trembling like a prayer.

"Florian."