Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight! novel Chapter 159

Chapter 159: ’Something’s Wrong With Me’

Florian tried his best.

He tried his best to ignore it.

Even after his dance with Athena, even as the music swelled and the nobility continued their endless murmurs, he tried.

But it was getting worse.

The unease clawed at him, insidious and unrelenting, coiling in the pit of his stomach and creeping beneath his skin like fire smoldering just beneath the surface. His body betrayed him in ways he couldn’t explain. It wasn’t just nerves—he knew that now.

Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

But what?

He had no idea.

A dull ache throbbed behind his eyes, the pressure building as though something inside him was pressing outward. His skin burned, unbearably hot, his clothes clinging too tightly to his body, suffocating. Every breath came uneven, shallow, dragging through a throat that felt painfully dry.

A hand trembled at his side. His?

"Your Highness... are you sure y-you’re okay?"

Athena’s voice barely cut through the haze, soft but laced with concern. She stood close, hands clasped together as if resisting the urge to reach out. Her violet eyes, so often cast downward, now locked onto him with unmasked worry.

Florian hesitated.

He could lie. Pretend everything was fine. Flash his usual easy smile and brush off her concern with a practiced charm.

But he couldn’t.

Not this time.

His body was screaming at him, demanding that he stop pretending, that he acknowledge what was happening before it was too late.

So, with some difficulty, he shook his head.

"I’m... sorry, Lady Athena," he murmured, his voice quieter than he intended. "I’m not feeling well. Can you... can you tell Lady Alexandria that I need to step away for a bit?"

Athena’s eyes widened slightly, but she nodded, quick and determined. "Of course. D-do you need help? Should I call for someone?"

"No, no... I can handle myself. Don’t worry, I just..."

He took a step back.

Or at least, he tried to.

His movements were slow—too slow. Heavy, like wading through water. His balance wavered, an unwelcome dizziness seeping into his limbs. His pulse hammered against his ribs, his heartbeat deafening in his ears.

And beneath it all, a thirst burned at the back of his throat. Deep, aching, unquenchable.

’Wait.’

Drink.

The realization slammed into him like a punch to the gut.

The Moonfire Ambrosia.

His mind reeled as he recalled the unfamiliar servant who had handed him the shimmering drink. He hadn’t recognized them, and yet, he drank without a second thought.

And the stranger from earlier—the noble who had spoken to him so familiarly, whose presence had nagged at him even after they were gone.

Florian’s stomach twisted.

This wasn’t a coincidence.

’Fuck. I should’ve prioritized informing Heinz.’

His gaze flicked wildly around the ballroom, scanning the sea of lavishly dressed nobles. He had to find Heinz. If someone was out there, slipping tainted drinks into unsuspecting hands, then he wasn’t the only one in danger.

And if he didn’t act fast—

His vision blurred. His chest tightened. The world around him tilted.

Time was running out.

Florian’s breath came faster now, shallow and ragged, as he swept his gaze through the ballroom.

There—by the far end of the hall, near the marble staircase.

Heinz.

The king stood tall, his sharp eyes scanning the grand festivities with quiet vigilance, his presence an anchor of stability amidst the swirling chaos of noble chatter and waltzing figures. A wave of relief threatened to wash over Florian at the sight of him—

But it was fleeting.

The relentless heat beneath his skin only grew stronger, like fire seeping through his veins, licking at his throat, his limbs, his very core. His heart pounded violently against his ribs, his pulse hammering in his ears. Every step forward felt sluggish, as though thick, invisible restraints were dragging him down, slowing him.

’Fuck, what is happening to me? Was I... poisoned?’

A cluster of noblewomen formed a loose semi-circle around him, their silken gowns shimmering under the chandeliers, their lips curved in curiosity and amusement. The air around them was thick with perfume—sweet, floral, intoxicating. Florian barely had time to react before one of them stepped closer. _{freewёbnoνel.com}

The heat inside him curled tighter, unbearable, his breath coming fast and uneven. He felt hot, too hot, his body betraying him in ways he couldn’t understand. Every fiber of his being screamed that something was wrong, but he couldn’t focus, couldn’t breathe past the dizzying, pulsing sensation building beneath his skin.

He had to refuse. He knew that.

For a horrifying moment, he thought he might actually give in.

A firm hand wrapped around his wrist and yanked him back.

"Apologies, ladies," Lancelot said smoothly, his grip on Florian unwavering. "But I need to speak with His Highness. Immediately."