Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight!-Chapter 231: ’...Something I Need To Tell You’

For whatever reason, Florian’s voice barely carried over the crackling fire, his throat raw, his breath hitching as if speaking were an insurmountable effort. "Even after everything..."

His fingers twitched against the thick fabric of Heinz’s coat, the sensation grounding him in a reality he wasn’t sure he wanted to face. The fire’s glow cast flickering shadows over their forms, its heat licking at his skin, but it did nothing to thaw the deep, gnawing cold settling in his bones.

Each inhale was uneven, strangled, as though his lungs had forgotten how to function properly. The weight of everything—what had happened, what he had seen—pressed down on him with an invisible force, suffocating, inescapable.

He should hate them. He wanted to. His veins should be boiling with fury, his heart clenching with disgust. He should be spitting curses, seething, wishing them the worst.

But instead—

"I think..." The words caught in his throat, his voice breaking as he swallowed thickly. "I think they probably did what they had to do to survive, Your Majesty."

The admission was bitter, a truth he didn’t want to acknowledge but couldn’t deny. His mind refused to fight it; it settled into him like a sickness, familiar and unwanted. He had tried so desperately to cling to his anger, to hold onto his resentment like a lifeline. But something inside him—some pathetic, shameful part—understood. Understood what it meant to be pushed to the edge of survival. Understood what it felt like to have no choices left.

His vision blurred, his surroundings momentarily slipping into indistinct shapes and colors before snapping into a clarity so sharp it cut.

A flash of red.

Leila’s body.

Lifeless.

Motionless.

Her legs—

’Fuck.’

Florian’s stomach twisted violently, but there was nothing left to expel, nothing left in him but the hollow, gnawing ache that coiled in his gut. His breathing turned ragged, his chest rising and falling in uneven shudders as he locked his gaze onto the inferno ahead. He couldn’t look away. He wouldn’t look away. Because if he did, if he turned even slightly, he’d have to meet Heinz’s gaze.

And he wasn’t ready for that. He wasn’t ready for whatever would be waiting in the king’s expression.

"Please tell me they’re safe," he whispered, barely audible over the roar of the flames.

His heart pounded violently, but it wasn’t just fear tightening his chest. It was something else. A whisper in the back of his mind, a voice he couldn’t silence—Kaz’s voice.

"You don’t know what he’s capable of."

A cold shiver crawled down his spine, unnatural against the blistering heat surrounding them. ƒгeewёbnovel.com

Heinz said nothing.

The silence stretched between them, thick, suffocating. Each second dragged like an eternity, a weight pressing against Florian’s ribs, crushing him little by little.

His fingers clenched involuntarily, his nails biting into fabric. He didn’t dare tear his eyes from the fire. If he did, he would have to face whatever truth was coming, and he wasn’t sure he was strong enough for it.

Then—

"Like I said," Heinz finally spoke, his voice as steady as ever. "They escaped. They ran away."

Florian’s breath hitched, his head snapping toward Heinz, searching his face for any sign of deception.

"You let them go?" His voice wavered—hesitant, fragile. Desperate for hope but terrified of it all the same. ’He actually let them go?’

Heinz met his gaze without flinching. "Yes."

The confirmation nearly knocked the air from Florian’s lungs.

Relief surged through him so suddenly, so forcefully, that his knees nearly buckled. His shoulders sagged, the unbearable tension gripping his chest loosening just enough for him to breathe—really breathe—for the first time since this nightmare began.

But Heinz was watching him carefully, his golden eyes unreadable, reflecting the dancing flames as if he held fire itself within him.

"I don’t understand you at all," Heinz muttered, shaking his head slightly. But then, after a pause, something shifted in his tone. The sharp edge softened—just barely. "But... maybe you have a point."

Florian blinked, caught off guard.

’What does that even mean?’

"A point?" He echoed warily. "Why?"

Heinz’s lips curled ever so slightly. "Do you recall how you yelled at me earlier? Told me to help the village?"

Florian froze.

The words struck him like a physical blow, his stomach twisting as a nauseating wave of embarrassment washed over him. His breath hitched, his entire body locking up as if shackled by unseen chains.

’He’s mentioning this again?’

His face burned, the memory crashing into him with mortifying clarity.

"I-I don’t recall..." he muttered weakly, but the tremor in his voice betrayed him.

A low chuckle. Amused. Mocking.

"Liar," Heinz drawled, smug satisfaction dripping from his words.

Florian clenched his jaw, his fingers curling into the fabric of Heinz’s coat. Damn it. He did remember. Every word. Every desperate, pleading cry that had left his lips, raw and frantic. He had shouted. He had begged. And worst of all—he had done it in front of Heinz.

The humiliation clawed at his ribs.

He wasn’t supposed to beg. Not to him.

"Well," Heinz continued, his smirk evident in his tone, "as much as I hate to admit it... you were right."

Florian’s head snapped up.

"What?"

That—that wasn’t something Heinz ever said. Florian had spent enough time around him to know that much. Heinz was never wrong. Even when he was, he twisted reality itself until he became right.

But now... here he was. Admitting it.

Florian swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. His pulse pounded in his ears, erratic and restless. He forced the words out, slow, cautious.

"What do you mean, Your Majesty?"

The question carried weight. A fragile, desperate hope curled in his chest like a flickering ember. After everything—after this endless nightmare—was he finally about to hear something good?

He hadn’t been able to save Levi. He hadn’t been able to save Leila.

But maybe, just maybe—this time—

"I’m going to explain," Heinz said.

Florian exhaled sharply, his lungs aching with the force of it. His heart clenched, teetering on the edge of anticipation—

"But first," Heinz added.

’God. Please don’t tell me to figure it out by myself.’

And just like that, the air shifted.

The warmth of the fire no longer felt comforting. It pressed in too close. Suffocating.

"Before that, there’s..."

Heinz’s voice—steady, unreadable—felt heavier. Like the quiet before a storm.

Florian stiffened, instinct prickling at his spine.

Heinz was always composed, always in control. But this—this was different.

A deep, unsettling weight settled in Florian’s stomach.

"...something I need to tell you."