Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight!-Chapter 230: ’What happened?’

Florian didn’t know how to react.

He didn’t even know how to breathe.

His entire body was locked in place—stiff, unyielding—as if any movement would shatter the fragile hold he had over himself. The weight of his situation pressed down on him like a suffocating fog, thick and inescapable. His stomach twisted, a violent churn that sent waves of nausea rolling through his entire being. His pulse pounded in his skull, deafening, drowning out the world beyond his own mind.

He was on top of Heinz.

Heinz’s arm was wrapped around him—an iron grip that brooked no resistance.

And worst of all—

Heinz’s hand was clamped over his mouth.

Florian wanted to scream. To thrash. To rip himself away and put as much distance as possible between them—between himself and what he had done.

But he couldn’t.

A violent shudder wracked through him, his breath hitching as bile surged up his throat, burning, acrid, unbearable. The sheer wrongness of it coiled around his insides like a snake, tightening, squeezing, suffocating. His fingers twitched against Heinz’s coat, his nails digging into the thick fabric as his body revolted against itself.

’Leila. I—ate—’

The thought sent a fresh wave of nausea slamming into him, his vision swaying. His lungs seized, every muscle in his body tightening as if his very skin rejected the reality that had been forced upon him.

’No, no, no—’

A desperate, animalistic panic clawed its way up his throat, but it had nowhere to go. Heinz’s grip was unyielding, his palm pressed firmly against Florian’s lips, cutting off any chance of release. Florian thrashed weakly, his breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps against Heinz’s fingers, but the man didn’t let go.

’Swallow it. Swallow it—’

The command wasn’t his own. It wasn’t a choice.

It was survival.

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as he forced the bile back down, the acidic burn scorching its way through his chest. Every fiber of his being screamed in protest, his body rejecting it, rejecting everything.

It hurt.

It hurt so much he thought he might break apart, piece by jagged piece, until nothing was left of him but the bitter, rotting remnants of his own guilt.

How was he supposed to live with this?

How was he supposed to exist knowing what he had done?

His vision blurred, then sharpened too fast—reality snapping back into place with brutal clarity.

And then he saw them.

Heinz’s eyes.

A striking, unnatural crimson, stark against the pale void of the room. They bore into him, sharp and unflinching, filled with something unreadable. Cold. Detached. Too calm. Too calm.

"Are you feeling well enough now?" Heinz asked, his voice even—measured, almost casual.

Florian’s blood turned to ice.

’Well?’

His stomach twisted violently, a sharp, cruel twist of something visceral, something unbearable. His breath came in rapid, shallow gasps, his chest rising and falling too quickly, too erratically.

Was he well?

Was he—

No. No.

He wasn’t well.

He had eaten human flesh.

Not just any flesh.

’Leila.’

His throat closed, a strangled sound catching in his lungs. The nausea surged back with a vengeance, white-hot and merciless. His body lurched before he could stop it, his stomach twisting into an agonized knot, desperate to purge itself—

Only for Heinz’s arm to tighten around him, yanking him closer.

Florian stiffened, a sharp jolt of panic shooting through his veins like wildfire. "Wha—"

"Enough." Heinz’s voice was lower now, edged with something sharper, something final. His grip didn’t loosen. If anything, it hardened. "Since you won’t stop trying to throw up, I’ll take care of it."

Florian barely had time to process the words before he felt it.

A pulse of magic, cool and unfamiliar, slithering beneath his skin.

It coiled into his core, a phantom touch that numbed him from the inside out. The nausea that had been tearing him apart just seconds ago—

Gone.

Too fast. Too unnatural.

The pressure in his stomach dissipated in an instant, leaving behind an unsettling, eerie stillness. The panic that had gripped his body just moments ago was ripped away, forcibly silenced—

But the horror.

The horror remained.

Florian’s breath came in ragged, uneven bursts, his fingers curling into Heinz’s coat as his mind reeled, spiraling into something he couldn’t grasp. His stomach may have been emptied of its suffering, but his soul—

His soul was drowning in it.

And Heinz was still holding him.

"Calm down," Heinz murmured again, his voice steady, unwavering.

Florian shuddered, his breaths uneven, but something about Heinz’s tone sent a ripple of unease through him. It was too controlled, too measured—like a tether pulled just a little too tight, on the verge of snapping.

’Why does he sound like that?’

Heinz was always composed, always precise, but there was something different this time. The way he held him—firm yet oddly lingering—the way his words carried a weight that pressed down on Florian’s chest. It was strange. Unsettling.

And that strangeness distracted him, just enough for the frantic pounding in his chest to slow. Just enough for his mind to claw its way out of the blind panic that had consumed him moments ago.

Heinz must have noticed, because slowly—deliberately—he removed his hand from Florian’s mouth.

But the arm around his waist?

It stayed.

Florian barely had time to process it before the words fell from his lips, hushed, fragile, horrified.

"I... I ate Leila."

The words felt foreign—like they belonged to someone else, someone distant. And yet, they reverberated inside his skull, each syllable cutting deeper than the last.

A cold silence stretched between them.

Then—

"You didn’t know," Heinz said simply.

Florian’s mouth parted, ready to argue—because how could he just say that? As if ignorance could absolve him? As if it could erase the sickening truth lingering on his tongue, coating his insides like poison—

Then, something changed.

The air.

The smell.

Smoke.

Faint at first, curling at the edges of his awareness. Then stronger. Thicker. The acrid scent clawed at his nostrils, wrapping around him like unseen fingers.

Crackling.

His heart lurched.

A sharp, suffocating dread seized him, and before he could stop himself, he turned his head.

His breath caught in his throat.

The village.

The village of Forgotten Waters—

Was burning.

Flames swallowed the wooden homes, devouring them hungrily, their glow casting grotesque shadows against the night sky. The heat licked at the air, thick plumes of smoke twisting upward, suffocating the once-quiet land. The distant wails of the villagers barely reached his ears, muffled by the violent roaring of the inferno.

Florian’s body went rigid, his stomach dropping into a pit of ice.

"What..." His voice trembled. "What happened?"

Heinz didn’t answer immediately.

He was quiet. Too quiet. freēnovelkiss.com

Then, finally—

"They figured it out," Heinz said, his voice void of emotion. "That we knew, and who we were."

’I figured as much...’

Florian’s fingers curled into fists, his nails biting into his palms.

"The villagers—" he swallowed hard, his throat raw, burning, "what about them? Where are they? Are they—?"

Heinz turned to him then, his red eyes unreadable, but there was something there—something Florian couldn’t quite name.

And yet, his next words sent a chill through Florian’s very bones.

"How are you still concerned for them?"