Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight! novel Chapter 142

Chapter 142: ’Too Beautiful’

The day of the ball had finally arrived.

A grand event, shimmering with expectation, where nobles and dignitaries would gather beneath glittering chandeliers, their eyes keen and judgment sharp. The weight of it pressed down on Florian, winding through his chest like an iron coil.

He was nervous—incredibly nervous.

Sleep had evaded him the night before, his mind an endless loop of what-ifs and worst-case scenarios.

What if something went wrong? What if he embarrassed himself? What if he wasn’t prepared?

But he had forced himself to rest, knowing full well what happened when exhaustion crept in. The last time he had gone without proper sleep, he had felt sluggish, unfocused—his reflection in the mirror looking hollow and haggard.

He couldn’t afford that today.

"Your Highness, is this okay?"

Cashew’s timid voice broke through his thoughts, drawing Florian’s gaze away from the polished marble floor and toward the mirror before him.

He blinked.

Then blinked again.

’Whoa...’

Florian barely recognized himself. He had long since come to terms with the fact that this body—his body—was unnervingly beautiful. But after spending so much time in it, he had grown used to his own reflection, the sharp angles softened by familiarity.

But this... this was different.

Cashew had transformed him.

His skin was luminous, almost ethereal, the smoothness uninterrupted by even the faintest imperfection. A subtle flush dusted his cheeks, making his already striking features even more captivating. His lips, previously pale, were now touched with a delicate hue—just enough to bring them to life without looking unnatural. But what caught his attention most were his eyes.

Lined with the lightest touch of kohl, they looked deeper, more intense, their golden-brown hues shimmering like molten green under the warm glow of the vanity lights.

’Okay, wow... I know Florian was beautiful, but damn.’

Cashew had done an incredible job.

"Where did you learn to apply makeup, Cashew?" Florian asked, still staring at his reflection, marveling at the transformation. He turned to the younger boy, genuinely impressed.

Cashew shuffled his feet, his hands clasping together nervously. "Oh, uh... I-I asked one of the maids to teach me before..." His voice was barely above a whisper, his face flushing as if he expected to be scolded.

Florian tilted his head.

’Oh? That’s unexpected... but kind of sweet.’

A small smile tugged at his lips. ’Come to think of it, Cashew stays in the servants’ wing. He probably knows a lot of them... That’s good. I’m glad he has people who are kind to him.’

"I’m glad you get along with them," Florian said, his voice warm, the tension in his chest easing slightly.

Cashew brightened at the words, nodding quickly. "Mhm! They’re really nice." His smile was soft, a little shy, but undeniably pleased.

Then, as if suddenly remembering something, his expression faltered. He hesitated, biting his lower lip before nervously glancing up at Florian.

"D-Do you like how you look, Your Highness?"

Florian paused, glancing back at the mirror.

’Honestly, I’d prefer not to look even more feminine, but...’

He turned his gaze back to Cashew, who was watching him with hopeful, expectant eyes—so eager for approval, for validation. The boy had worked hard, had done his best to make Florian look presentable. And in truth, there was no denying the skill behind his handiwork.

Florian exhaled softly.

A small, genuine smile curled at the corners of his lips.

"I love it, Cashew."

Cashew’s eyes widened slightly before his entire face lit up with joy. He beamed, his shoulders relaxing, the nervous tension melting away into pure, unfiltered happiness.

And just like that, some of Florian’s nerves faded, too.

Cashew hummed softly as he picked up a few delicate accessories from the vanity, his small hands carefully sorting through jeweled hairpins and golden clips. The candlelight caught on the polished metal, making them gleam as he turned them over in his fingers, searching for the perfect ones.

Florian sighed, shifting in his seat. ’More? Isn’t this enough?’ He had already endured the careful application of makeup, the adjustments to his outfit, and now this. But Cashew’s expression was focused, almost eager. The boy was clearly enjoying himself, and Florian had to admit—he was good at this.

Florian’s breath hitched. _{frёeweɓηovel.coɱ}

’He’s looking fancy.’

A reminder that Lucius was not just a butler. He was a noble first and foremost. He had the bearing of one, the blood of one. And dressed like this, with his sharp features highlighted by the richness of his attire, he looked every bit the part.