Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight! novel Chapter 255

Chapter 255: ’I’m not Lucius, though’

Florian tore his gaze away, suddenly feeling the weight of Lancelot’s stare pressing down on him like an unseen force. His fingers curled slightly against the edge of the desk, nails faintly pressing into the wood as he swallowed.

’Ah. He’s being so touchy again.’

Lancelot took another step forward, close enough that Florian could feel the warmth radiating from him, a heat that threatened to close the small space between them. His presence was suffocating—familiar, but suffocating nonetheless.

But then—

He stopped.

And then... he stepped back.

Florian blinked, startled by the abrupt shift. His head snapped up, eyes locking onto Lancelot’s face. The smirk—the ever-present, infuriating smirk—was gone. The teasing glint in his green eyes had dulled, replaced by something... hesitant. Uncertain.

It was as if someone had flipped a switch, and the man standing before him was an entirely different person.

For the first time since stepping into the room, Lancelot looked unsure of himself. His usual confidence—the cocky bravado he wore like armor—had cracked. He rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze flickering away, avoiding direct eye contact in a way that was so unlike him.

"I came here," Lancelot started, his voice quieter than before, "to ask you about what you saw in the village."

Florian frowned. "...What?"

"For further clarification," Lancelot continued, still not looking at him. "For investigation purposes. Every detail counts."

’That’s... surprisingly professional.’

Florian studied him, still thrown off by the sudden change in demeanor. He crossed his arms, trying to ground himself. "I already told Lucius everything."

At that, Lancelot finally lifted his gaze. And the look he gave him—

It wasn’t annoyance. It wasn’t impatience.

It was something deeper. Sharper.

Pointed. And bitter.

"I’m not Lucius, though," Lancelot muttered.

The weight in his tone. The way his words hung in the air, heavy with something unspoken.

Florian’s breath caught in his throat. He didn’t know why, but it unsettled him more than anything else Lancelot had done today. More than the teasing, more than the flirtation.

’Lancelot is acting weird.’

Lancelot wordlessly strode past him, his heavy boots barely making a sound against the polished floor. He moved toward one of the couches in the corner of the room and sank into the seat with an unreadable expression. His usual air of confidence—of smug amusement—was absent.

Florian remained by the desk, arms still crossed as he narrowed his eyes.

’What is his deal?’

Was this some new ploy? Another trick to catch him off guard?

Lancelot was never like this. Even in the novel, he always had something to say—some sly remark, some flirtatious quip meant to ruffle Florian’s composure. But now, he just sat there, unmoving, his posture oddly rigid, as if weighed down by something Florian couldn’t see.

Florian hesitated. The silence felt heavier than it should have. Then, exhaling through his nose, he made his way over to the opposite couch. He lowered himself onto the cushions, keeping a careful distance between them as he studied Lancelot across the space that separated them.

Lancelot wasn’t looking at him.

In fact, he seemed to be deliberately avoiding his gaze, his eyes fixed on some vague point off to the side. His jaw was set, his fingers lightly tapping against his knee in a slow, controlled rhythm.

Again, that was new.

And for some reason, it was starting to bother Florian more than it should.

’What the hell is wrong with him? He’s never this quiet.’

Shaking the thought away, he finally broke the silence. "Fine. I’ll tell you everything I told Lucius."

Lancelot gave a small nod, the movement so slight Florian might’ve missed it if he wasn’t watching closely. His expression didn’t shift, his face remaining as impassive as ever. "Go on."

So Florian did.

’Gods, I hope not.’