Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight! novel Chapter 263

Chapter 263: ‘Who the fuck is Drizelous?’

Florian blinked, still trying to process what he had just been told. The words echoed in his mind like a cruel joke that somehow got taken seriously.

’I can’t believe this. I can’t believe Heinz!’

He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to soothe the tension gathering at the base of his skull. A tight, uncomfortable pit was already forming in his stomach.

"You mean... I’m actually going to be the one speaking to the dukes? Like, all of them, Your Majesty?"

Heinz gave a single, lazy nod, as though they were discussing what flavor of jam to have for breakfast rather than a royal summit with the most powerful men in the kingdom.

’This has to be some kind of punishment. Right? For talking back to him so many times. Gods, please just say it’s a prank.’

Florian’s fingers fidgeted in his lap, twisting together anxiously. "I-I mean, isn’t that a little excessive? Duke Alexandrius and Duke Alaric alone are terrifying, and now I have to face the rest of them too?"

His voice wavered, inching up in pitch with every word. Panic was creeping in fast, wrapping around his throat like a vine of thorns.

"Can’t I just be... I don’t know, some sort of suggestor? Maybe hand Lucius a script and hide under the table while he reads it?"

Heinz gave a small shake of his head, lips tugging upward slightly—not in amusement, but in something more unreadable. "No. The dukes despise me," he said, bluntly. "They’d tear apart anything I proposed on principle alone. And let’s be honest, everyone in that room would know I’d never come up with a plan that thoughtful on my own."

Florian’s eye twitched. He wanted to be offended, but... fair.

’Okay, that does make sense.’

"But they would never take me seriously," Florian protested, motioning to himself like he was presenting a reason too obvious to argue with. "I’m one of the harem members, for gods’ sakes. And I’m not even from this kingdom! I’m a foreign prince. Literally the last person they’ll want to listen to!"

He was pushing again—he knew it. He was probably crossing one of Heinz’s invisible lines. But this wasn’t some silly disagreement; this was political suicide.

And yet, Heinz’s smirk didn’t waver.

"You do know it’s an order, not a request?" he said, his voice calm, like still water that might suddenly drown you.

Florian bit back a groan and instead pressed his fingers against his neck, as if that would somehow relieve the pressure building inside him. It felt like someone had clasped an iron collar around his throat and was slowly tightening it.

"I’m not ready to do something as big as this," he muttered, voice lower now, almost pleading.

Heinz tilted his head, studying him for a long moment before leaning back in his chair. His posture was relaxed, but Florian knew better than to be fooled by that. Heinz was never truly relaxed. His words, when they came, were precise and piercing.

"Think about it this way," he said. "Who is the biggest threat in this kingdom—no, in this entire reality?"

Florian blinked. "...You, Your Majesty?"

Heinz nodded, pleased. "That’s right. And yet, you scolded me about how to be a king... and you got away with it."

Florian opened his mouth, paused, then closed it again.

’...Damn it. He has a point again.’

"So," Heinz continued, spreading his hands slightly as if presenting a logical conclusion, "why would a bunch of measly old bastards scare you? Unless you think they’re more intimidating than me?"

No.

No, they weren’t.

Nobody was scarier than Heinz. That wasn’t even a debate. And Heinz had already implied he would be there, watching, ready to shut things down if necessary. Still, the fear inside Florian didn’t go away.

He hated public speaking. Always had. He only survived that last speech at the ball because adrenaline carried him, and there had been so many people he couldn’t focus on anyone’s expression. But now? Now it would just be him, a table, and a group of old, powerful men waiting to tear him apart for sport.

’Is Heinz testing me again? Is this a test?’ Florian glanced at him, searching his face for any hint of intent. ’If this were a test, what would he be trying to find out? Or... no. No, he really does have a point. The dukes would never listen to him. They’d fight it out of spite. And this plan... it was mine. I insisted on helping those villages.’

Florian really had to resist the urge to glare at him. He swallowed it down, forcing himself to stay calm.

’That doesn’t make it any better.’

’Oh thank the gods,’ Florian thought, a wave of relief washing over him. ’That buys me at least a few more minutes before I have to pretend I know what I’m doing.’