Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight! novel Chapter 319

Chapter 319: ’Act of Kindness.’

"I am exhausted," Florian muttered, sinking into the plush velvet couch in Heinz’s office as if every bone in his body had given up on supporting him. The moment his back hit the cushions, he practically collapsed, limbs sprawled like a discarded marionette.

His voice came out hoarse, barely above a whisper, but it carried the full weight of the evening’s emotional toll.

Dinner had passed in a blur—thankfully without any more chaos. No yelling, no insults flying across the table like daggers. Just an eerie, tension-laced awkwardness that filled the air, pressing down on everyone’s shoulders. Still, it was an improvement.

The princesses had stepped up when it mattered, gracefully maneuvering conversations and distracting the dukes with practiced ease. Their laughter had been a little too loud, their smiles a little too polished, but it worked.

Somehow, it worked.

Darkthorn and Flameheart hadn’t caused another scene. That alone felt like a miracle.

But Alexandria hadn’t returned.

Delilah came back toward the end of the meal, offering a tight-lipped smile and an apologetic nod. Apparently, Alexandria had locked herself in her room out of embarrassment, refusing to face anyone.

Florian’s chest ached at the thought. He didn’t blame her—who would want to return after such an emotionally charged moment, surrounded by vultures wearing noble crests?

’I should check on her later,’ he thought, guilt pooling in his stomach. ’Even if she doesn’t want to talk. Just... make sure she’s okay.’

The dukes had eventually been escorted back to their wing by Lucius and Delilah, free to rest or wander the palace grounds. Florian, on the other hand, had no desire to do either. He made another mental note to keep his door locked tonight. No more surprises. No more conversations. Just silence.

Across the room, Heinz looked as exhausted as Florian felt—though the king’s weariness wasn’t in his posture. He sat upright at his desk, fingers curled against his temple, eyes shadowed with something heavier than mere fatigue.

"Those bastards," Heinz muttered under his breath, voice laced with venom.

Florian offered no rebuttal. He didn’t need to. He understood.

The dukes—especially Alaric and Alexandrius—had danced on the edge of cruelty tonight, poking and prodding like children playing with a beast they thought was too caged to bite back.

Florian glanced at Heinz, a flicker of hesitation tightening in his chest. There was something still bothering him, something he’d debated asking for hours now. It had nagged at him since dinner began, nestled deep in his thoughts.

After a beat of silence, he decided.

"Your Majesty, I have a question," Florian said quietly, his tone careful but firm.

Heinz looked up, brows raised slightly. "Speak."

Florian drew in a breath, holding it a second too long. "Why did you agree to drink? I thought you hated it. Don’t you usually avoid alcohol like it’s poison? Did something change?"

Heinz tilted his head, then gave a dry, almost amused chuckle. "No. Of course not. I still deeply despise drinking."

Florian blinked. "Then why agree at all? You could’ve shut them down the moment they started going on about ’traditions’."

Heinz didn’t answer right away. His gaze lingered on Florian, distant and unreadable. Then he exhaled through his nose and gave a small shrug.

"They’re doing whatever it takes to sabotage me. To turn everyone against me before they even hear what we’re planning. I wasn’t going to let that effort—your effort—be wasted." His voice was calm, measured, almost too casual.

But the impact hit Florian like a blow to the chest.

His breath caught.

’Wow.’ His eyes widened slightly. ’Heinz Obsidian... doing an act of kindness? What has the world come to?’

It wasn’t like him—not the version of Heinz from the novel, at least. That Heinz would’ve laughed in their faces. He would’ve burned every bridge and walked away before letting anyone manipulate him.

But this...

This Heinz had changed.

Of course.

’So that’s all it ever was,’ he thought bitterly. ’It wasn’t about me. It never is.’

’What was I even thinking? That maybe he cared? That maybe he’d changed for real?’