Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight!-Chapter 269: ’Something’s Missing’

"I am never going back in there."

Florian’s voice came out in a tired huff as he dragged his feet down the corridor. His back ached, his head was pounding, and there was a hollow sort of ache in his chest that only ever came from too much talking.

He was exhausted.

The moment he’d given Drizelous the green light to ask whatever he wanted, it was as if he had unleashed something uncontrollable. The man lit up like he’d been struck by lightning—rapid-fire questions spilling from his mouth before Florian could even finish one answer. Questions about feelings, posture, favorite colors, worst memories, fleeting dreams. At some point, Florian wasn’t even sure if it was about fashion anymore.

And Drizelous had enjoyed every second of it.

Too much.

Florian rubbed at his temple, letting out another sigh as he turned the corner toward his wing. His mind was still buzzing.

’He didn’t even give me a moment to breathe.’

It wasn’t even the questions that drained him—it was the way Drizelous listened. Too closely. Too sharply. Like each word was a thread he planned to unravel and stitch into something visible.

And the worst part? He didn’t even hate the feeling.

Which made it all the more annoying.

Drizelous had been overexcited, borderline manic, practically glowing with every new note he scribbled down. And Florian, stupidly willing, had let him. He didn’t realize how far it had gone until his throat felt raw and his guard had thinned into nothing.

’Never again. He tricked me with that fake sincerity.’

He stopped walking briefly, leaning against the wall to breathe. The cool stone helped anchor him, if only slightly.

’Still... I can’t imagine him interrogating Heinz like that.’

No, that was the strange part. For all his flamboyance, there was a strange respect—no, familiarity—in the way he spoke of Heinz. Not just admiration. Not devotion.

History.

Drizelous had said he grew up with the king. Childhood friends, apparently. It was easy to forget, with the way he spoke in flourishes and laughed like a cat who knew everyone’s secrets.

But underneath that charm, there were cracks.

Florian remembered the way Drizelous’s expression had flickered—just for a second—when his mother was mentioned. A quick flash of something bitter.

"You may leave now, though I may summon you again... or pay you a visit, if you don’t mind," Drizelous said, biting the tip of his quill as he smiled—far too pleased for someone who had just interrogated another human being like a tailor-turned-therapist.

Florian gave a tired nod. Speaking felt like a chore at this point. All he wanted was to melt into his bed, pull the sheets over his head, and maybe munch on those sweet cream-filled pastries Cashew always smuggled in for him.

"I might have you and His Majesty do a fitting together as well," Drizelous added casually, arms folding against his chest. "But that would depend on his mood... and my mother’s. God forbid I bother the king for the sake of my craft."

The way he said it was sharp. Too sharp for the playful tone he was aiming for. A bitter thread ran through his words, but the smile never left his face.

’Come to think of it...’ Florian mused, squinting at him. ’He was unusually entertained when he talked about how annoyed Delilah was with me.’

"Do you... not have a good relationship with Delilah or the king?" Florian asked, watching closely.

Drizelous raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable.

"I’m not entertaining questions, Your Highness."

Florian narrowed his eyes, arms crossing without hesitation. "I entertained all of your questions."

"Yes," Drizelous replied with mock sweetness, "because I’m your tailor."

"And I’m a prince," Florian shot back, lifting his chin ever so slightly. It wasn’t often that he pulled rank—but in moments like these, it was a tool, just like any other. And somehow, he knew Drizelous wouldn’t be offended.

He wasn’t.

In fact, Drizelous looked delighted.

"My, how could someone like you ever fall for a bore like Heinz Obsidian?"

Florian gave him a lazy smile and shrugged. "It’s why I moved on."

Drizelous barked a laugh, finally setting his quill down on the desk. "Well, it’s not that I hate him, per se. Working under him is what’s making me rich, after all." His grin faded, only slightly. "However... my mother was the queen’s lady-in-waiting. She practically raised him. I suppose, in a twisted way, you could call us brothers. Unfortunate, I know."

Florian blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone. "That’s... unfortunate," he said, tilting his head slightly.

Drizelous only smirked, giving a half-hearted shrug. "Not more unfortunate than Heinz Obsidian having to compete with his younger brother, Hendrix. Honestly, I still don’t know who I should pity more—Heinz or Hendrix. Either way, my mother’s neglect gave me the space to discover and perfect my talents, so I can’t say I care anymore."

"So you grew up with Prince Hendrix too?" Florian asked.

Drizelous’s eyes flicked away, just for a second. "Don’t call him Prince Hendrix in front of the king. He’ll snap. But yes... Hendrix used to follow Heinz everywhere. Always tried to play with him, like any younger sibling would."

He paused, more somber now.

"Heinz’s inferiority complex... it was ugly. It made him cold. He kept pushing Hendrix away, and Hendrix—well, he cried a lot. Always looked so confused that his brother seemed to despise him. I couldn’t blame either of them back then."

Florian stayed quiet, absorbing the weight of that. This was the first he’d heard of it. Hendrix—who always seemed lighthearted, teasing, too clever for his own good—had wanted to be close to Heinz?

’I wonder if that’s the reason Kaz made him go back to the palace on Heinz’s birthday... to try and reconnect one last time.’

He let out a soft sigh, eyes unfocused.

Drizelous noticed.

With a light wave of his hand, he dismissed the heaviness lingering in the air. "You should go now, Your Highness. I’ve already drained you with all my questions. You need rest. And I... have work to do."

"Oh." Florian blinked, shaking off the thoughts. "Right. Yes. Well... thank you, Drizelous."

"I’m learning more and more about Heinz... and characters that never even existed in the novel," Florian muttered to himself, dragging his feet down the corridor. "But hey..."

He sighed, head tilting back slightly as he stared at the ornate ceiling for a moment before lowering it again.

Nothing that had happened so far had matched the plot he once knew. None of the events, conversations, or even half the people seemed to line up with the world the author had written.

’At this point, I might as well toss the entire novel out the window.’

"Mhm... I just can’t wait to go back to my bed..." he mumbled, voice growing quieter as exhaustion finally hit him like a brick wall. His steps slowed slightly. The thought of sinking into his soft mattress, surrounded by cushions and silence, felt like a small blessing.

But then, something tugged at the edge of his mind. A sudden, uncomfortable sensation that clung to his chest like a damp cloth.

That feeling—like he was forgetting something. Something important.

He stopped walking.

"...What was it again?" he muttered, frowning.

’Cashew’s probably in my room. I don’t have any prior appointments with Heinz... Lucius or Lancelot... I don’t think I missed anything else planned for today.’

He mentally retraced the day’s events. He had already answered Scarlett’s questions, presented his plans to both Heinz and Lucius, and endured Drizelous’s exhausting interrogation.

"Mhm... who else..." he murmured as he began to walk again, but then—

His eyes widened. freeweɓnovel.cøm

"Azure."

He stopped dead in his tracks.

The little dragon should’ve been trailing behind him, clinging to his shoulders or curled around his arm like usual. But ever since Heinz had pulled him away from the tea party, Florian couldn’t recall seeing Azure at all. Not in Heinz’s office. Not during his talk with Drizelous. Not once.

’Fuck.’