Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight! novel Chapter 318

Chapter 318: "I will do it."

Heinz tensed.

Florian felt it instantly—through the subtle shift in his posture, the way his grip around Florian’s hand faltered for just a second before steadying again. A small, nearly imperceptible tremor traveled from Heinz’s fingers into his own.

It was enough.

For whatever reason, the King really didn’t want to drink. He never explained why—not once, not even in passing. And it wasn’t due to anything obvious. He had no known health condition, nor had he ever claimed to be allergic to alcohol. Physically, he was in perfect condition. Magic-wise, he was leagues above everyone else in the room.

’Does it have something to do with his trauma?’ Florian wondered, his gaze flickering to Alaric, who was still watching Heinz with that thin-lipped, pointed smile.

No matter the reason—Heinz clearly didn’t intend to speak for himself.

So Florian did what Florian always ended up doing when things got too complicated. He picked up the slack.

With quiet composure, he reached for a napkin and dabbed at his mouth. Then, beneath the table, he squeezed Heinz’s hand in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture.

"His Majesty does not drink alcohol," Florian said, his voice level and polite. "He is willing to attend the event, of course, but he won’t be partaking in any alcoholic beverages."

Elara nodded, her expression unreadable but voice light. "I can get behind that."

Cedric and Roland followed suit with nods of agreement.

"That is fine," Roland said, waving a hand lazily. "I don’t believe drinking was ever a requirement. The gathering’s more about conversation and reconnecting, no?"

But Alexandrius, of course, scoffed like someone had insulted his bloodline.

"How are you all alright with it?" he sneered. "Drinking the wine handpicked and served by the King is part of the tradition. This summit has kept that custom alive for decades."

Alaric, ever the opportunist, leaned in with a thoughtful nod. "I must agree with Duke Alexandrius. Even the late King Henrik, who had health complications, still upheld the custom. Surely our current King—who is significantly stronger in magic—can manage a single glass? Unless... he simply won’t give us a reason?"

Florian blinked. He opened his mouth, then closed it again.

He didn’t have a reason to offer. He didn’t know.

He turned toward Heinz slowly, brows furrowing.

Beside him, Heinz remained composed—too composed. But the lines around his eyes were tense now, drawn. He hadn’t flinched when insulted, but he also hadn’t defended himself. That silence was growing heavier by the second.

Florian’s jaw tightened.

Alaric and Alexandrius were pushing. Too hard. And at this rate, they were going to use this as another wedge—a way to further isolate and discredit the King.

’Come on, Heinz. Say something. Before they twist this into another excuse to undermine you.’

Just when Florian began to open his mouth again, ready to step in once more—

Heinz moved.

He glanced at Florian, his expression unreadable, and gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

Florian froze.

’Huh?’ he blinked. ’What does that mean? Is he trying to reassure me—or... is that his answer?’

Then Heinz sighed, low and resigned.

"Fine," he said, voice heavy with decision.

Florian’s heart skipped. Wait—

"I will do it," Heinz continued, lifting his head. "I will drink with the dukes."

"What?" Florian choked out, nearly dropping his spoon.

Lucius and Lancelot echoed the same word, stunned. freewёbn૦νeɭ.com

Lucius stiffened like a statue; Lancelot’s brows drew together in visible disbelief.

They knew. They knew Heinz would never agree to this under normal circumstances. The man who ruled with an iron spine, who bent for no one—not even tradition—was now yielding?

The dukes looked equally surprised.

Elara’s lips curled into a radiant smile. "Are you sure, Your Majesty? Please, do not force yourself."

But Heinz wasn’t smiling.

"No, no," he said, his gaze sharpening as he turned to Alaric and Alexandrius. "Duke Alaric and Duke Alexandrius are correct."

His eyes were cold, hard as polished obsidian.

Both dukes visibly flinched.

Just like that—all their earlier smugness evaporated, scattered like dust under his gaze.

"It is tradition," Heinz said coolly.

Roland leaned back and gave a satisfied nod, flicking his fingers as if wiping the matter clean. "That settles it, then. I trust both of you are satisfied?"

Florian, however, was not satisfied.

’Why would he say yes? He was so adamant before—completely unwilling. And now he’s giving in just because they pressured him?’

’At this point, he’s allowed to tell them off. They’re being disrespectful. No one would blame him. So why—why give them what they want?’

And worse, why did it feel like this decision wasn’t a surrender?

"I have been trying to ignore your rash behavior out of respect for the fact that this is a sovereign summit," Heinz said, his voice steady, polite, but laced with ice. "But since you both seem so fond of speaking about tradition... why don’t we speak instead of law and etiquette?"

’Oh shit.’ Florian felt his heart drop. ’So it was a trap.’