"No."

The word hit the air like a hammer.

Florian froze for a split second, disbelief flashing across his face before the frustration burst out of him.

His palms slammed down against the polished wood of Heinz's desk, the sharp sound echoing through the room.

"What?" he demanded, his voice rising. His chest tightened with anger and something far more painful beneath it.

Heinz's brows furrowed in surprise. "Florian, why are you upset? This isn't a matter we should even be talking about right now."

'Is he joking?' Florian's thoughts were sharp, burning. 'How could he not know why I'm upset?'

"You were aware of this before," Heinz continued, confusion creeping into his tone. "You seemed fine with it, I just—"

"That was before there was imminent danger after me!"

Heinz's voice rose slightly, frustration slipping into it. "There's always been imminent danger after you!"

"Exactly!" Florian shot back, his voice trembling—not from fear, but from fury barely held back. "There's always danger, but at least when I'm outside, I can do something about it instead of waiting here like some helpless—"

He stopped himself, teeth clenching as he glared at the king across from him.

Heinz sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair, one hand dragging through his hair as though he could physically scrape the exhaustion off himself. His eyes softened, but it didn't help.

"Florian, you need to understand." His tone was quiet now—too quiet, too careful. "I am willing to let you do anything right now except leave a place where you're safe."

He spoke like a man trying to reason with a storm.

"Before, your being their target was only a theory," Heinz went on, his expression tightening. "Now we've confirmed there are multiple people after you. Hendrix, the so-called savior, Charles, and that dragon. I will not let you walk into danger."

Florian laughed bitterly, shaking his head. His voice lowered, but the venom in it only grew sharper.

"And you actually think I'm safer here?"

Heinz blinked. "Of course. We have guards, Azure—"

"The guards that are dead?" Florian cut in. "The guards who have failed me every single time?" His voice trembled now, cracking at the edges. "Heinz, do you even hear yourself?"

He took a shaky breath, forcing himself to stand straighter. His eyes gleamed—not just with anger now, but something colder, something resolute.

"I am not safer here than I am out there," he said quietly, every word deliberate. "Because everyone expects me to just be here. To stay put like a possession."

He took a step back, his hands tightening into fists at his sides.

"I might actually be safer while you figure out this mess," Florian continued, his tone low but unwavering, "while I'm at Celestial Peak."

For the first time, Heinz didn't respond.

He just stared—his eyes shadowed, lips drawn tight, the muscles in his jaw twitching as if he was holding himself together by sheer force. His silence was heavy, suffocating.

The air between them felt thick, almost fragile, like if either of them breathed too loudly, it would shatter.

Florian straightened, crossing his arms tightly against his chest. The movement was sharp, defensive—a shield against the ache crawling up his throat.

"And that's just it, isn't it?" His voice was calm, but underneath it was a tremor of something dangerous. "Whether or not any place is safer for me, you just don't like the idea of me leaving. That's what this is really about, isn't it? It's never about safety—it's about control."

Heinz didn't speak.

Of course, he didn't.

Because Florian was right.

And they both knew it.

The silence stretched on, only broken by the faint ticking of the clock on Heinz's wall.

Florian exhaled slowly through his nose, turning away. "You heard the gods' message, Heinz. And despite how vague or poetic or holy it sounded, we both understood one thing."

He paused, his hand tightening at his side.

"I'm only a target because of you."

He spoke the words quietly, but they landed like a blade between them. "If you really want me safe, then making secret agreements to keep me here won't be the answer."

There was a sharp scrape—the sound of a chair being pushed back.

Florian didn't need to look to know Heinz had stood. He could feel it, the shift in the air. The hesitation. The guilt.

"What…" Heinz started, but his voice faltered.

For the first time, there was nervousness in his tone—something almost fragile beneath the usual command.

Florian's lips curled bitterly. 'Got you.'

"…what does that mean, Florian?"

"It seems you already know what it means, Your Majesty." His words came out like venom, quiet but sharp enough to wound.

He turned slightly, just enough to glance back—and the look on Heinz's face nearly made him stop.

Horror.

Real, unguarded horror.

Florian almost pitied him again.

Almost.

"It means," he continued coldly, "I saw the original Florian's father walk out of your office. I heard him talking about your little agreement."

He watched the color drain from Heinz's face.

"Wait—it's not—" Heinz started, his voice breaking through the silence, but Florian cut him off before he could even begin to explain.

"So much for atonement."

The words dripped with disgust, heavy with everything Florian had been holding back since that night—the pain, the exhaustion, the disappointment.

Then, without another glance, he turned his back on him and walked away.

Each step echoed against the marble floor, the sound fading slowly until all that was left in the room was Heinz—frozen, breathless, and staring at the door as if it had just taken the last light left in his world.

And maybe, in a way, it had.

But this time, Florian fully didn't care.

✧→ ⏱︎ ←✧

Florian felt… eerily calm.

The kind of calm that came not from peace, but from exhaustion—like standing in the quiet eye of a storm after surviving the first wave.

Each step echoed softly through the marble corridor, the faint hum of the palace lanterns the only sound filling the space.

He kept his breaths slow and steady, though every inhale scraped against the lump in his throat.

His palms were cold, but his heart pounded steady and hard—controlled fury disguised as composure.

He wasn't going back to his room.

Not right now.

He needed air, distance, something—anything that didn't carry the suffocating weight of Heinz's voice echoing in his head.

Initially, Florian had wanted solitude.

Maybe just one quiet night where he could think, away from all the endless chaos—no priests, no kings, no divine prophecies threatening his life. Just silence. Just himself.

But that plan had died the moment Elara's words replayed in his head.

And the moment he realized Heinz had been meeting with Asher behind his back.

Florian's fingers twitched at his sides. 'An agreement… for me to stay here forever.'

The thought burned.

Every step he took now was both measured and heavy, his mind replaying every detail of what he had overheard.

The faint, calm tone of Asher's voice. The guilt hidden beneath Heinz's sigh. The ache in his chest that refused to fade.

He was restless.

Restless—but calm.

It was a dangerous combination.

Florian exhaled, a long, slow breath that did little to ease the weight pressing against his ribs.

He needed something to pull him back from the edge.

Something—someone—that didn't make his chest feel like it was collapsing in on itself.

Someone whose presence made him feel lighter.

So, of course, he'd go looking for the few people left who could do that.

"Your Highness, looking for Princess Athena and Princess Scarlett, I suppose?"

The soft voice pulled Florian out of his thoughts like a splash of cold water.

He blinked, realizing he had been walking without really seeing where he was going—his mind still tangled in everything that had happened.

Slowly, he looked up and found one of Scarlett's maids standing a few steps ahead, her hands folded neatly in front of her apron.

Her expression was gentle, familiar.

"Oh… yes," Florian said, managing a faint smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Is Scarlett in her room?"

The maid nodded quickly, a small grin lighting up her face.

"Yes! And right on time, actually. Princess Athena just arrived in Her Highness' room. I was about to go fetch them tea and some snacks. Would you like me to inform them you're coming, Your Highness?"

Florian shook his head softly. "No, it's alright. I'll surprise them."

He hesitated for a second, then added, "But if you see Cashew, please tell him where I am. You know how he gets—he'll worry himself sick if he can't find me."

The maid let out a light laugh, bowing her head slightly. "Of course, Your Highness. He really does dote on you."

Florian's lips curved upward at that, but his eyes softened with something heavier. "He's a good boy," he said quietly.

The maid's gaze lingered on him for a moment—maybe noticing how tired his voice sounded—before she curtsied again. "I shall also bring some snacks for you, Your Highness."

Florian's smile returned, polite and practiced. "Thank you," he murmured.

And then he walked past her.

The click of his boots against the polished floor echoed down the long corridor as the maid turned and went the other way.

Each step Florian took toward Scarlett's room felt heavier than the last, but he forced himself to keep moving.

The air in this part of the palace smelled faintly of roses—Scarlett's favorite—and even that small detail made something inside him unclench.

He needed this.