Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight! novel Chapter 174

Chapter 174: ’The Prince Brighter Than The Sun’

The orphanage had never felt like home.

It was just a place where children with nowhere else to go were stuffed into cramped rooms and given just enough food to survive. No one really cared about each other—at least, not in the way a family should.

For as long as he could remember, the other children had tormented him. It wasn’t enough that he had no family, no real name—his eyes made him a target too.

"Monster eyes," they called him. "Freak."

Purple wasn’t a normal eye color, they sneered. It was eerie, unnatural.

It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair that something he had no control over made him different. Made him hated.

Today was his birthday. He had just turned thirteen.

No one celebrated it.

Instead, the teasing was worse than usual. The whispers were crueler, the laughter sharper. And when he couldn’t take it anymore, he did what he always did.

He ran to the orphanage’s garden.

The one place where he could cry without shame.

The place that reminded him of her.

His mother used to tell him that if he ever had to cry, he should do it over flowers.

"Flowers like water, my love," she had said, brushing his hair back as he sobbed in her lap. "So no matter how sad you are, no matter how much you cry, at least your tears will grow something beautiful."

His mother had loved flowers.

And now, even though she was gone, he still took care of them. Even when the other orphans laughed at him for it. Even when they trampled the petals and ruined his hard work.

He sniffled, letting his tears fall freely onto the soft petals below. The flowers wouldn’t hate him for crying. They wouldn’t call him names.

They would just keep growing.

He barely noticed the hushed voices of the other children in the distance, excitedly talking about some tour going on today—something about the king’s harem.

He didn’t care.

Royalty, nobles, people who lived in castles—they had nothing to do with him.

He was just an orphan. A nameless, worthless orphan.

So he kept tending to his flowers, sniffling quietly, lost in his own world—until a shadow fell over him.

A soft voice, like wind chimes in the breeze, spoke.

"Are you okay?"

He flinched, looking up—and his breath caught in his throat.

Standing on the other side of the fence was the most beautiful person he had ever seen.

Long, slightly curly hair the color of lilacs cascaded down their shoulders, catching the light in a way that made it seem almost ethereal. Their eyes—bright, striking green—shimmered like fresh spring leaves after rain.

He had never seen anyone like them before.

For a moment, he wasn’t even sure if they were real.

The person smiled. It was warm, bright—like sunlight breaking through a storm.

"You have the prettiest eyes," they said, tilting their head slightly. "And this garden is lovely."

His breath hitched.

No one had ever said that before.

No one, except his mother.

He ducked his head, wiping his face with his sleeve, embarrassed that he’d been caught crying. "I... I don’t have pretty eyes," he muttered. "Everyone says they’re weird."

The person frowned. "Then everyone else is wrong."

He blinked up at them, unsure what to say.

The person rested their hands on the fence, leaning forward slightly. "Do you live here?"

He hesitated, then nodded.

No one had ever wanted him before.