Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight! novel Chapter 151

Chapter 151: ’Dancing with the Knight’

"Oh, Sir Lancelot, it’s been quite some time, hasn’t it? I don’t believe I’ve seen you since..." Elias trailed off, tapping his chin as if in deep thought, a small smirk playing at his lips.

"Since His Majesty’s coronation," Lancelot answered flatly, stepping beside Florian. For the first time that evening, Florian felt relieved by the knight’s presence.

"Ah, right. Though, was there ever an official coronation?" Elias mused, his voice deceptively light. "Hard to tell, what with all the weapons and Arcaniors threatening us."

Florian’s breath hitched, eyes widening slightly. That shift—subtle, but unmistakable.

Before, Elias had been the perfect image of a nobleman: polite, charming, effortlessly composed.

Now? Bitterness laced his words, the weight of unspoken resentment pressing against the air between them. Beneath that carefully maintained facade, anger simmered, barely contained.

’A complete one-eighty from how he was before Lancelot arrived.’ Florian noted, though it wasn’t surprising. Given how Heinz had seized the throne, the ducal families had every right to be angrier than the lesser nobility.

Lancelot’s expression darkened. "Watch what you say, Elias. Keep in mind whose palace you’re standing in. You’ve already pledged loyalty to King Heinz—brooding over it won’t change anything." His tone was cocky, but his gaze was sharp, scrutinizing. He placed a firm hand on Florian’s back.

Florian’s jaw twitched.

’Did I say he could touch me?’

"Will you excuse us?" Lancelot continued, all too casual. "His Highness and I still have to dance."

Elias let out a quiet snicker. "Do you really think he—or any of the princesses—are happy about how you all just took them from their homes and forced them to swear loyalty? Just as you did with us?"

’Wow. He has a death wish, doesn’t he?’

Lancelot’s entire body tensed, his jaw locking so tightly Florian thought he might crack a tooth. If looks could kill, Elias would be a corpse on the ballroom floor.

For a moment—just a brief, fleeting second—Florian swore Lancelot was going to draw his sword, consequences be damned. But the weight of prying eyes held him back.

People were starting to notice.

"That’s Lord Lancelot, right? Is he arguing with Lord Elias?"

"Oh my, are they about to fight?"

Florian exhaled sharply. He wasn’t about to let this escalate—not tonight of all nights. So, he did what any self-respecting main character would do in this situation.

He reached out, placing a gentle hand on Lancelot’s arm, and tugged.

"Lancelot, stop it. Let’s just dance."

’Ugh. I hate that I have to do this.’

Lancelot’s gaze snapped to him, caught off guard. Florian knew he was usually sarcastic, dismissive—but right now, he didn’t have a choice.

It was Main Character 101. When the male lead was about to fight, the protagonist had to calm him down—either with softness, a meaningful gaze, or some dramatic speech.

"You’d do well to listen to His Highness, Sir Lancelot," Elias added with amusement.

"But Your Highness, he—"

"Enough." Florian cut him off, his voice sharp, leaving no room for argument. "For the first time in years, the king has opened his palace. Now, both of you stop before I have someone throw you out."

Silence.

"If you’re so eager to fight," he added coolly, "then take it to court. You’re both sons of dukes—act like it. Don’t ruin this for everyone else."

Elias regarded him carefully before letting out an amused hum. "Hmm. It seems you really are different from the rumors. Well, I already had a feeling from the way you handled that marquis earlier."

’What is he saying now?’

Then, with an easy smile, Elias turned back to Florian. "Please do save your first dance for me at the next ball. And perhaps, if your king decides to open his doors to us again, we might just see each other soon."

With that, he walked away, leaving only Florian and a very irritated Lancelot behind.

Lancelot gritted his teeth. "That jerk hasn’t changed a bit. Thinks he’s all that just because—"

"Stop it," Florian sighed. "It’s not worth it."

"Sir Lancelot is dancing with the prince?"

"But he never dances with men. He’s always surrounded by women..."

"He’s never been interested in just one partner before."

"They seem... close."

’Great. Just what I need—more rumors.’

’Damn it, why is he so good at this?’

Florian hadn’t taken any dance lessons—he hadn’t—but his body moved as if it had done this a thousand times before. Every step felt instinctual, ingrained in his muscles. His feet never faltered, perfectly in sync with Lancelot’s lead.

’I should be grateful, but somehow, this just pisses me off more.’