Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight! novel Chapter 127

Chapter 127: ’Sudden Guest’

Florian’s chambers were bathed in the soft glow of the late afternoon sun, but the prince’s mood was anything but light. The golden light stretched long across the floor, casting shifting patterns over the ornate rugs and rich fabrics, but to him, it may as well have been a suffocating weight, pressing down on his chest.

Lying on his bed with an arm draped over his face, Florian let out another frustrated sigh. His body was tense, his mind too restless to relax, and yet exhaustion clung to him like a second skin. Near the bed, Cashew stood awkwardly, his small hands trembling as he held a teacup, unsure whether to speak or stay silent.

The quiet between them stretched, thick and heavy, before Florian finally exhaled and broke it.

"Cashew." His voice was low, hoarse from disuse, tinged with a weariness that felt bone-deep.

"Yes, Your Highness?" The boy perked up slightly, his eagerness to be useful clear in his voice, but his gaze remained hesitant, flickering between Florian’s face and the tea in his hands.

Florian turned his head slightly, peering at Cashew through the gap in his arm. His lashes cast dark shadows over his cheekbones, eyes half-lidded with fatigue. "When you went to tell Princess Alexandria that His Majesty was fine... how did she look?"

Cashew blinked, clearly startled by the question. "Oh... um..." He hesitated before carefully lowering the teacup onto the table, fingers fidgeting against the porcelain rim. "She looked... relieved, I think. But also..."

Florian’s brow furrowed as he sat up slightly, his curiosity cutting through the fog in his head. "Also what?"

The boy hesitated again, his eyes darting to the floor. His grip tightened on the hem of his tunic. "She looked... shaken. Like she’d been crying a lot before I got there. Her eyes were red, and her hands were trembling when she tried to thank me."

Florian closed his eyes and groaned, dragging his hands down his face.

"Of course she was," he muttered bitterly. "Why wouldn’t she be? We made her think she killed the king."

A sharp pang settled in his chest. He had known this already—of course, he had—but hearing it spoken aloud, hearing confirmation of the damage they had caused, sent a fresh wave of guilt twisting through his gut.

’She must have been terrified. She must have thought she’d destroyed everything.’

The plan had been necessary. It had worked. But at what cost?

Cashew shifted beside him, concern evident in the way he lowered himself onto his knees, close enough that Florian could feel the warmth radiating from him. Then, with a small, almost instinctive movement, he leaned in and gently pressed his head forward, an offering of comfort.

Florian stared at him for a moment before a quiet, tired chuckle slipped from his lips. The simple sincerity of the gesture tugged at something deep in his chest. Without thinking, he reached out and rested his hand atop Cashew’s head, fingers ruffling through soft strands of hair.

The warmth of the moment dulled the sharp edge of his frustration, but it did nothing to quiet the thoughts still spinning in his mind.

Alexandria was okay. That was something. That was important.

But no matter how hard he tried to push away the thoughts that followed, Lancelot’s actions still plagued him.

Lancelot.

The second male lead.

The one who should have been easiest to avoid because, in the original novel, he never liked Florian to begin with. Suspicious. Cold. Uninterested. He had viewed Florian as a nuisance to Heinz, a petty, desperate thing trying to steal the king’s attention. _{frёeweɓηovel.coɱ}

’He wasn’t supposed to care.’

Lancelot was only meant to fall for Florian after being saved from a kidnapping—an event that exposed his vulnerability, something that softened the edges of Lancelot’s perception. That was when the shift happened. That was when Lancelot’s protective instincts kicked in, when he started looking at Florian differently, when he started lingering.

But none of that had happened.

And yet...

It seemed Lancelot was still drawn to him, regardless.

A sharp, cold sensation curled in Florian’s gut.

He turned onto his side, pressing his face into the pillow, but the realization followed him, relentless. It wasn’t just Lancelot. It was Lucius too.

Despite everything—despite the changes he had made, despite the way he had actively worked to avoid their affections, despite all his efforts—they still fell for him.

’As if they were meant to.’

It was like the story was forcing itself onto him, bending reality to its will. No matter how he twisted, no matter what paths he took, it always ended the same way.

’Is this really fate? Or is it something worse?’

Something crueler.

’It doesn’t matter.’

As long as he never consented to... to that.

’They can love me all they want.’