Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight!-Chapter 295: ’What Do You Think, Florian?’

"What was that, Your Majesty?!"

Florian’s voice cracked at the end—sharp, trembling with fury—but he didn’t care. His heart thundered against his ribs, each beat a drum of disbelief and adrenaline. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, knuckles white, his entire body trembling from the sheer force of trying to keep himself from exploding.

Heinz didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink. If anything, the king looked amused again. The faint curl of his lips betrayed it—a smirk, subtle and knowing, like a man watching a game unfold exactly as he’d planned.

"Are you angry?" Heinz asked, tilting his head, tone lazy and detached, as if the answer held only mild curiosity. His elbow rested against the throne’s armrest, chin perched atop his gloved palm, golden eyes glinting with something unreadable.

’Am I angry?’

’AM I ANGRY?!’

Florian’s chest heaved. Rage flared in his throat like bile. He could feel it clawing at his insides, demanding release. And this time, he didn’t hold back.

"I’m furious!" he shouted. "You—you just threw me into that circus with no warning! Again!"

He ignored the flutter beside his cheek as Azure stirred, the little dragon awakened by the sudden outburst. The creature cooed softly, pressing its head against Florian’s cheek in a feeble attempt to soothe him, wings twitching with concern.

But Florian barely noticed.

"You can’t keep doing this!" he snapped. "First you make me your representative, and now this?! You announce to every royal in the room that I’m a candidate to be queen—without so much as a damn whisper to me beforehand!"

He ran a hand through his hair, dragging it back and messing it up, a frantic attempt to ground himself. He felt wild, untethered, his voice edged with desperation as he tried to rein in the chaos inside.

"Your Majesty, I understand that maybe this is all some test for the princesses, but—"

"I am not doing this to test the princesses," Heinz interrupted flatly.

Florian stopped. His eyes narrowed. "What?"

The shift was immediate. The air in the throne room thickened like storm clouds before a downpour. Heinz’s smirk faded, replaced by something far more serious. More dangerous.

"I’m doing this to catch whoever killed me."

Florian’s breath caught in his throat. His anger froze, tangled with confusion.

’The one who killed him? How?’

"You’re saying..." he struggled to connect the dots, brow furrowing, "that this entire... this public stunt—has something to do with your murder?"

"Yes."

Florian shook his head, incredulous. "How does announcing that I’m eligible to be queen help catch the person who supposedly killed you?!"

"If you let me explain," Heinz said calmly, "then you’ll know."

"If you had told me your plan in the first place," Florian snapped, voice rising again, "then maybe I would’ve let you explain!"

There was a beat of silence.

Then, Heinz gave a low chuckle. "You’re yelling at me again, Florian. How interesting."

Florian gritted his teeth. "It doesn’t seem to bother you at all, Your Majesty."

Heinz tilted his head the other way, thoughtful. "Mhm. It doesn’t."

He rested his hands on the arms of his throne and leaned forward just slightly, golden eyes narrowing.

"But I am curious why it doesn’t. If it were anyone else, I would’ve had their tongue cut out on the spot."

A chill crawled down Florian’s spine. Heinz wasn’t bluffing.

"But you..." Heinz gave a slow, deliberate smile. "You’re entertaining."

’It’s because you know I’m not from here. You know I’m not the real Florian.’

Florian crossed his arms, lips tight. "Your Majesty, please. Just go back to explaining. I am in no mood for your teasing."

He didn’t know where this boldness was coming from—maybe the adrenaline, maybe the disbelief—but it surged through him like fire. He would ride it for as long as he could.

Heinz hummed, the sound low and thoughtful, then leaned back into the throne again. "Very well. Let’s speak plainly."

His tone darkened. "You are being targeted. We both know it."

Florian didn’t respond. He only nodded, eyes locked on the king’s face.

"I had suspicions," Heinz went on, "even before the incident with the aphrodisiac. But that... confirmed it."

’Ugh. Don’t remind me.’

Florian winced. The memory was faint—hazy like smoke—but the nightmare it spawned haunted him still. A fevered, humiliating dream of Heinz’s hands, his breath, his voice...

Florian blinked it away, shaking his head subtly.

"The person who killed me," Heinz said, voice dropping lower, "is trying to sabotage you, for some reason."

Florian stiffened. ’What?’

"Sabotage me?" he repeated, voice quieter now. "Why would they want to sabotage me? They’re already trying to kidnap me."

"That," Heinz admitted, "is the mystery. But consider this: if they wanted you gone, there are faster, simpler ways. Poison. Abduction. A knife in the dark. Even when you saw the strange man."

He leaned forward again.

"Instead, they used an aphrodisiac. At a royal ball. Surrounded by nobles and political enemies."

He let the weight of those words settle.

"They didn’t want to kill you," Heinz said. "They wanted to humiliate you. To make you spiral. To make me—who is getting along with you—reject you."

Florian’s breath hitched.

"Had Lucius or Lancelot not intervened," Heinz added, "what do you think would’ve happened? You would’ve been a laughingstock. Or worse."

Florian swallowed thickly. He hated how logical it sounded.

"But... why?" he asked. "Why go through the trouble? Just to make you angry?"

"There are already whispers about us, aren’t there?" Heinz said softly. "That you spread the rumors. That you manipulated your way into my bed."

Florian’s eyes widened.

’He knows—fuck. Lucius and Lancelot must have told him...’

"Yes," he said stiffly. "I’m aware."

Heinz gave a dry chuckle. "And yet, you never asked yourself—who started those rumors? Or why?"

Florian said nothing.

"Who benefits from me believing you’re a scheming opportunist?" Heinz pressed. "Who gains if I think you’re a liability? If I strip you of favor—banish you, even?"

Florian’s mind raced.

’So the person who killed him... is trying to make him hate me again? To ruin me from the inside?’

"That’s your theory?" he asked slowly. "That they’re trying to drive a wedge between us... because they don’t know we’re working together? Or...they’re scared we’re working together?"

Heinz nodded once. "Exactly."

Florian’s brow furrowed, but doubt lingered in his gut. "But... then why did that man show me the original Florian’s memories?" he murmured, almost to himself.

He hadn’t told Heinz about that encounter—about the shadowy stranger, or the visions that had left him shaking and breathless.

’They must know I’m not the real Florian...’

Florian’s brows knit tightly together, tension furrowing his features as confusion gave way to suspicion.

"Then..." he began, voice lower, tighter than before, "why did you have to announce that I was eligible to be queen?"

His hands curled slightly at his sides, as though he were bracing for the answer. "Why make the princesses test me like that? Why not just use the summit? Isn’t that a bigger deal?"

’It is the more important event. Why not make that the trap? Why the theatrics? Why put me in front of them like some prize pig for slaughter?’

Heinz met his gaze without flinching. His fingers tapped, slow and deliberate, against the armrest of his throne.

"The summit is a big deal," he said at last. His voice was calm, but it held a current beneath it—something razor-sharp. Calculating.

Florian blinked. "What?"

"There will be more guards. Tighter security. Every appointment—cooks, servants, attendants—will be investigated thoroughly. Their names cross-checked, their histories verified. Even the dukes will bring their own private escorts. It will be crawling with eyes. Protected to the bone."

’So... the summit is too protected for the enemy to make a move?’

Heinz leaned forward, the movement slow, deliberate. Shadows shifted across his face.

"And the meeting where you’ll present your plans to the dukes?" His voice lowered, a whisper with weight. "That will be behind closed doors. Just you. Me. And them. No servants. No guards. No aides. No one else."

Florian felt his breath catch in his throat.

’He’s sealing the room.’

His pulse beat loud in his ears.

Heinz’s eyes gleamed—like a wolf who already knew where the rabbit was hiding.

"That’s not an opportunity the traitor can use," he said smoothly. "It’s airtight. Too risky. They know it."

Then he leaned back again, as if satisfied with laying his trap.

"But the princesses?" He gestured lazily with his hand, like a puppeteer speaking of strings. "Their tests are public. Unpredictable. Filled with emotion and spectacle. There are too many ways to interfere without drawing attention. A misplaced word, a broken item, a servant with too much perfume—any of those could ruin you."

Florian’s mind reeled. The weight of the revelation pressed against his chest like a stone.

’So... this whole thing with the queen candidacy... it’s bait. I’m the bait.’

He swallowed hard. His throat felt dry as parchment.

"So I’m not really eligible to be queen, am I?" he asked softly, cautiously. The words felt foreign on his tongue. "This is all... just a ploy."

Heinz’s smirk returned—sharp and polished like the edge of a ceremonial dagger.

"What do you think, Florian?"