Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight!-Chapter 300: ’See You As A Friend’

Florian found Lucius surprisingly quickly.

He had expected a search. Perhaps a short chase. But there he was—standing still, arms folded neatly behind his back, watching as servants darted from one open room to the next, their hands full of linens, fresh flowers, and ornate guest decor.

For a moment, Florian simply watched him.

Lucius looked composed as always. Controlled. Aloof. Distant.

Like nothing had changed.

’Tch. He really is pretending nothing happened, huh.’

This was also the first time Florian had laid eyes on the palace’s guest wing—and he had to admit, it was... overwhelming. Tall arched ceilings stretched toward the heavens, with carved pillars decorated in gold leaf. Expensive chandeliers glittered overhead, catching the light like captured stars. The rooms, each with their own theme and color palette, spilled open like secrets waiting to be discovered.

It was more opulent than even his own wing. Larger, too.

’Of course it is. It’s where the real power sleeps.’

The dukes were more than nobles—they were institutions. Pillars that supported Concordia’s monarchy. Each one held the power to sway the court with a single word. Generations of kings had built this wing to accommodate them, to honor them.

Heinz was the only one who dared not to.

And yet... here Florian stood, unnoticed and ignored. Just another out-of-place ornament in the background of the palace.

Perfect.

Everyone was far too busy running around in a frenzied effort to prepare. No one noticed Florian as he crept closer to Lucius—quiet and furious.

He stopped just behind him, close enough to smell the familiar scent of fresh linen and faint cologne. His eyes narrowed.

’You’re really going to pretend I don’t exist?’

Without a second thought, Florian reached out and grabbed the back of Lucius’s coattail.

Lucius jolted. A sharp gasp escaped his lips as he spun around, hand halfway raised to shove off the unknown intruder—until his eyes landed on Florian.

"What in the name of—Your Highness?" Lucius blinked, startled.

Florian didn’t say a word.

He simply tugged the man along, weaving through the corridor like a storm on a mission. Lucius stumbled for a moment but quickly matched his pace, confusion painted across his usually impassive face.

"Your Highness, what are you doing here? Where are you taking me?" Lucius asked, voice low and tense.

Still, Florian remained silent. His grip was firm. Purposeful.

’This is what you get for being an asshole.’

Finally, once he found a secluded alcove tucked between two towering bookshelves and a curtained archway, Florian came to a halt. He released Lucius’s coat with a flourish, turning on his heel to glare up at the man who refused to meet his gaze.

Lucius avoided his eyes like they were poison.

’I’m sure he knows I’m annoyed. He can feel it. He can see it.’

Lucius opened his mouth, likely about to ask why Florian had pulled him away so dramatically.

Florian beat him to it. He raised a hand, fingers slicing through the air.

"Why have you been avoiding me, hm?" Florian asked, his voice deceptively calm—but laced with sharpness.

Lucius froze. His eyes widened slightly before he masked the reaction and cleared his throat.

"I have not been avoiding you, Your Highness. I’ve simply been—"

"Bullshit. Cut it out," Florian snapped, arms crossing tightly over his chest. "This conversation will go a lot faster if you’re just honest with me. You’ve been avoiding me ever since the announcement, and I don’t need any goddamn powers to know it. You’re lying. Right to my face."

Silence.

Lucius was clearly taken aback.

’You didn’t think I had it in me, did you?’

The hesitation returned. His lips parted, but no words came. He looked at Florian—and maybe, just maybe, at the intensity in his expression, or the way his magic rippled faintly with emotion—Lucius finally stopped pretending.

His shoulders sagged slightly.

Then, with a small sigh, Lucius reached up and removed his glasses. His face looked tired. Raw.

"Why do you care, Your Highness?" he asked softly.

The question hit Florian like a slap.

"...Excuse me?" he breathed, genuinely stunned.

Lucius straightened and crossed his arms in return, mirroring Florian’s stance—but his expression had hardened into something unreadable.

"Why do you care?" Lucius repeated, his tone colder now. "Isn’t this what you wanted? You push me away every chance you get. You lie. You evade. Did you think I wouldn’t notice?"

’What... the fuck is he talking about?’

Lucius took a step forward. "Have you even heard the rumors about you lately?"

Florian blinked. ’Rumors? There are more rumors?’

As if reading his mind, Lucius continued, voice laced with bitterness. "They’re saying you bewitched His Majesty. That your sudden ’change’ is just a performance—that you seduced the King to get closer to power. That’s why you keep getting summoned."

Florian felt something snap.

He almost laughed. "Ha..."

So that was it?

That’s what people were saying? That’s what Lucius was bringing up now?

But it was the way he said it—the timing—that made Florian pause.

’Don’t tell me...’

He looked up sharply. "Do you believe the rumors?"

Lucius didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, he looked to the side—away from Florian. Away from the damage his silence had just caused.

And that silence burned.

Florian let out a bitter laugh. "Seriously, Lucius? You? Out of everyone?"

Lucius’s jaw tightened. "Me, out of everyone, knows how much you are hiding—and how much you are lying. Is it truly wrong for me to start believing things that are starting to make sense?"

For a moment, Florian couldn’t breathe.

His fingers twitched at his side.

He wanted to scream. To curse. To throw something. To tell Lucius exactly how stupid and wrong he was.

But he didn’t.

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling hard. His throat tightened as he forced a smile—one that didn’t reach his eyes. One meant to hide the way his heart cracked just a little in his chest.

"You want to know why I care?" Florian’s voice trembled slightly, but not from fear—he was holding back something deeper. His fists clenched at his sides, trembling with restrained frustration. Lucius gave him a sideways glance, like he wanted to pretend he wasn’t affected, but the flicker of surprise in his eyes betrayed him.

"I care," Florian said, his voice rising with each word, "because I see you as my friend."

That word hung in the air like a heavy weight.

"I don’t have many friends in this goddamn palace."

Lucius turned his head, and this time, he really looked at Florian. Wide-eyed. Disarmed. As if those words had struck something in him that he didn’t expect to feel.

"I push you away because you flirt too much, idiot!" Florian’s tone cracked—not with anger, but with emotion. His voice was raw now, peeling away layers he didn’t even know he still had on. "You touch me without thinking. You hover around me and throw out your little comments, not even considering whether I’m comfortable or not!"

His chest was rising and falling with every breath, too fast. Too hard.

"And now you’re blaming me for avoiding you?" he spat. "Are you seriously kidding me right now? I thought you were supposed to be smart."

The words were pouring out of him, reckless and sharp, but honest. Finally, brutally honest. He didn’t care anymore.

"I just wanted a friend, Lucius. Someone I could trust in this place where everyone is either fake or plotting." His voice cracked on the last word, and he didn’t even try to hide it. "I still saw you as a friend. Even with your stupid comments and how you make everything complicated... I still chose to trust you."

There was silence. Not even a single servant in the distant halls could be heard. It felt like the palace had quieted itself just to let this conversation unfold.

"And it’s such a fucking shame," Florian continued, now softer, almost bitter, "that you would ice me out just because you’re jealous."

Lucius opened his mouth to speak—but Florian was already raising a hand, cutting him off with a glare sharp enough to slice through bone.

"Don’t even try to deny it. That’s what this whole tantrum of yours has been about, hasn’t it? You’re jealous. And it’s so disappointing to see you act out over something so petty. You’re no different from the rest of the palace staff. I expected better from you."

Florian stared at him for a second longer—long enough to make Lucius flinch slightly under the weight of his gaze.

’You’re not who I thought you were.’

Without another word, Florian turned on his heel. His vision blurred slightly, but he blinked away the sting threatening the corners of his eyes. He wasn’t going to cry. Not here. Not over this.

He had made up his mind. He was done. He took a step forward—and then a hand caught his arm.

"Y-Your Highness, I—"

Florian froze.

"I’m giving you one chance to let go," he said, his voice dangerously low, trembling not from fear, but fury. "I tried talking to you like an adult, and you chose to be petty. I am done. Let. Me. Go. That is an order."

Lucius’ grip wavered, fingers twitching like they didn’t want to obey, but his voice came anyway—desperate, cracking. "Your Highness, please..."

It wasn’t cold anymore. It wasn’t distant. It was a plea.

"Your Highness, I’m sor—"

"Your Highness?"

A new voice cut through the tension like a knife. Both men snapped their heads in the direction of the sound.

Florian’s eyes widened.

His mouth parted slightly. "Cashew?" he breathed, startled.

The younger boy stood there, hesitant, hands clasped nervously in front of him. His pale blond hair caught the light as his purple eyes blinked in surprise at the sight of the two. He must have seen enough to know something had happened—but not enough to understand what.

"What are you doing here?"