Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight! novel Chapter 233

Chapter 233: ’Is he... scowling?’

Restless. Anxious. Agitated.

Lucius prowled through the palace halls, his movements slow, deliberate—like a predator circling unseen prey. For the past hour, he had stalked these corridors lined with flickering lanterns, his gaze sweeping over every passing servant, every noble lost in idle conversation, every fleeting glance exchanged behind his back.

The palace was alive with its usual symphony—the murmurs of hushed discussions, the rustling of skirts brushing against polished floors, the distant clatter of silverware as dinner was served. But none of it mattered. None of it told him what he needed to know.

’There has to be something.’

His gift had never failed him before. Emotions bled into the air like invisible threads, twisting and tangling between those who bore them, latching onto secrets, desires, sins. But now—

Calm. Happy. Flustered.

Useless.

His sharp gaze landed on a cluster of maids folding fresh linens, their hands moving with practiced precision, their faces composed. They were trained to be this way—to be unseen, unnoticed, unremarkable. But emotions were not so easily concealed.

Embarrassed. Tired. Exhausted.

’Nothing. No hesitation. No guilt.’

A muscle in his jaw twitched, frustration simmering beneath his skin. Someone here was hiding something. Someone here had done something unforgivable.

Overjoyed. In love. Jealous.

Noise. Nothing but noise.

His fingers twitched at his side as the pieces slotted together in his mind—the note, the whispers, the aphrodisiac.

Someone had slipped that note to Julius.

Someone had spoken to Florian.

Someone had dared to drug him.

Lucius inhaled slowly, forcing down the fire curling in his chest. His gift had always been his greatest weapon, the key to unraveling lies before they could even be spoken aloud. And yet—

Where was the guilt? The fear? The creeping unease of a mind consumed by the terror of being caught?

’Guilt. Fear. Anxiety. Shame. Paranoia.’

That was what he needed. That was what he hunted for. The weight of remorse pressing against someone’s ribs, the suffocating paranoia of a guilty conscience clawing at their throat. The unmistakable stench of treachery.

But there was nothing.

Lucius exhaled sharply, his brow furrowing. Someone was careful. Someone was smart.

Someone was targeting Florian.

And Lucius would not stop until he found them.

Thinking about Florian, Lucius exhaled slowly, trying to temper the unease simmering beneath his skin. He hadn’t been pleased when Heinz suggested taking Florian back to the village as "compensation" for the aphrodisiac incident.

For multiple reasons.

One—the village was dangerous. Practically a corpse of what it once was. A graveyard of failed governance and broken lives. If their identities were exposed, who knew what could happen to Florian? The boy had been doing well. He had stopped crying. He had started standing taller, his steps surer, his voice steadier.

Lucius didn’t want him to see the ugliness of reality again. Not yet. Not ever, if he could help it.

He didn’t want Florian to see the consequences of Heinz’s negligence—the rot and ruin that festered in the villages he’d long since abandoned.

Two—Heinz himself was even more dangerous.

Lucius trusted Florian’s judgment, but sometimes the boy was reckless. Too trusting. Too soft, even when he thought he wasn’t. Anger could make him foolish. And Heinz—he was a master of making fools out of people.

Lucius knew.

He had watched, time and time again, as Florian had thrown himself at the man’s feet, longing for a sliver of affection, a fleeting glance, a single word of approval. And Heinz had ignored him. Had turned away with a careless smirk, as if Florian were nothing more than an amusing pet begging for scraps.

And now?

Now, Heinz was treating Florian differently.

’Why?’

Heinz was an enigma. He always had been. A man too composed, too unfazed, too in control.

Even as a child, he had been strong. Unshakable. A fortress in human form.

But behind that easy, playful exterior, Lucius had long since realized the truth—

Heinz was empty.

There was something missing in him, something fundamental, something human.

And it had begun the moment his mother slit her throat before his very eyes.

Lucius had never forgotten the sight of the young boy standing amidst the blood, staring at his mother’s corpse with the same impassive expression he wore now.

Lucius respected him.

But he feared him, too.

And he feared for Florian.

And lastly...

Lucius was jealous.

couldn’t handle that.

No.

’He looks adorable when he’s flustered.’

’I have to stop.’