Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight! novel Chapter 295

Chapter 295: ’What Do You Think, Florian?’

"What was that, Your Majesty?!"

Florian’s voice cracked at the end—sharp, trembling with fury—but he didn’t care. His heart thundered against his ribs, each beat a drum of disbelief and adrenaline. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, knuckles white, his entire body trembling from the sheer force of trying to keep himself from exploding.

Heinz didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink. If anything, the king looked amused again. The faint curl of his lips betrayed it—a smirk, subtle and knowing, like a man watching a game unfold exactly as he’d planned.

"Are you angry?" Heinz asked, tilting his head, tone lazy and detached, as if the answer held only mild curiosity. His elbow rested against the throne’s armrest, chin perched atop his gloved palm, golden eyes glinting with something unreadable.

’Am I angry?’

’AM I ANGRY?!’

Florian’s chest heaved. Rage flared in his throat like bile. He could feel it clawing at his insides, demanding release. And this time, he didn’t hold back.

"I’m furious!" he shouted. "You—you just threw me into that circus with no warning! Again!"

He ignored the flutter beside his cheek as Azure stirred, the little dragon awakened by the sudden outburst. The creature cooed softly, pressing its head against Florian’s cheek in a feeble attempt to soothe him, wings twitching with concern.

But Florian barely noticed.

"You can’t keep doing this!" he snapped. "First you make me your representative, and now this?! You announce to every royal in the room that I’m a candidate to be queen—without so much as a damn whisper to me beforehand!"

He ran a hand through his hair, dragging it back and messing it up, a frantic attempt to ground himself. He felt wild, untethered, his voice edged with desperation as he tried to rein in the chaos inside.

"Your Majesty, I understand that maybe this is all some test for the princesses, but—"

"I am not doing this to test the princesses," Heinz interrupted flatly.

Florian stopped. His eyes narrowed. "What?"

The shift was immediate. The air in the throne room thickened like storm clouds before a downpour. Heinz’s smirk faded, replaced by something far more serious. More dangerous.

"I’m doing this to catch whoever killed me."

Florian’s breath caught in his throat. His anger froze, tangled with confusion.

’The one who killed him? How?’

"You’re saying..." he struggled to connect the dots, brow furrowing, "that this entire... this public stunt—has something to do with your murder?"

"Yes."

Florian shook his head, incredulous. "How does announcing that I’m eligible to be queen help catch the person who supposedly killed you?!"

"If you let me explain," Heinz said calmly, "then you’ll know."

"If you had told me your plan in the first place," Florian snapped, voice rising again, "then maybe I would’ve let you explain!"

There was a beat of silence.

Then, Heinz gave a low chuckle. "You’re yelling at me again, Florian. How interesting."

Florian gritted his teeth. "It doesn’t seem to bother you at all, Your Majesty."

Heinz tilted his head the other way, thoughtful. "Mhm. It doesn’t."

He rested his hands on the arms of his throne and leaned forward just slightly, golden eyes narrowing.

"But I am curious why it doesn’t. If it were anyone else, I would’ve had their tongue cut out on the spot."

A chill crawled down Florian’s spine. Heinz wasn’t bluffing.

"But you..." Heinz gave a slow, deliberate smile. "You’re entertaining."

’It’s because you know I’m not from here. You know I’m not the real Florian.’

Florian crossed his arms, lips tight. "Your Majesty, please. Just go back to explaining. I am in no mood for your teasing."

He didn’t know where this boldness was coming from—maybe the adrenaline, maybe the disbelief—but it surged through him like fire. He would ride it for as long as he could.

Heinz hummed, the sound low and thoughtful, then leaned back into the throne again. "Very well. Let’s speak plainly."

His tone darkened. "You are being targeted. We both know it."

Florian didn’t respond. He only nodded, eyes locked on the king’s face.

"I had suspicions," Heinz went on, "even before the incident with the aphrodisiac. But that... confirmed it."

’Ugh. Don’t remind me.’

Florian winced. The memory was faint—hazy like smoke—but the nightmare it spawned haunted him still. A fevered, humiliating dream of Heinz’s hands, his breath, his voice...

Florian blinked it away, shaking his head subtly.

"The person who killed me," Heinz said, voice dropping lower, "is trying to sabotage you, for some reason."

Florian stiffened. ’What?’

"Sabotage me?" he repeated, voice quieter now. "Why would they want to sabotage me? They’re already trying to kidnap me."

"They didn’t want to kill you," Heinz said. "They wanted to humiliate you. To make you spiral. To make me—who is getting along with you—reject you."

"There are already whispers about us, aren’t there?" Heinz said softly. "That you spread the rumors. That you manipulated your way into my bed."

’He knows—fuck. Lucius and Lancelot must have told him...’

Heinz gave a dry chuckle. "And yet, you never asked yourself—who started those rumors? Or why?"

’So the person who killed him... is trying to make him hate me again? To ruin me from the inside?’

’They must know I’m not the real Florian...’