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

"How was it?"

The voice caught Lucius just as he stepped out of Heinz—and Florian's—room.

He halted for only a fraction of a second, but it was enough to see Lancelot leaning casually against the stone wall outside, arms crossed, posture deceptively relaxed.

Lucius didn't allow himself to falter. His expression remained even, unreadable, as he resumed his stride. "...Lancelot."

The knight pushed himself off the wall and fell into step behind him, his boots tapping lightly against the polished floor.

"Aren't you going to greet him?" Lucius asked, his tone casual, as if their encounter were nothing more than coincidence.

"I'll greet His Highness later at the ball," Lancelot replied easily. "He deserves some peace and quiet... some time with Drizelous and Cashew. I'll give my gift then. For now, tell me—how was it? He must have been happy to know his family is coming."

Lucius's steps slowed, just slightly. "He was. But…" He trailed off.

"But?"

'Something was off.'

No—not something.

Everything.

Sometimes Lucius wondered if Florian forgot—forgot that he could see emotions as clearly as one might see the ink on a page.

And the moment he entered the room earlier, Florian's aura had shown him anything but joy, no matter how earnestly he smiled.

"But?" Lancelot repeated, sharper this time. His hand shot out, fingers clamping around Lucius's arm to halt his steps.

Lucius's head turned slowly, his brow furrowed in irritation. "Why are you touching me?"

"Why not?" Lancelot smirked, leaning just a little closer. "Not the worst thing I've done—"

"Stop." Lucius yanked his arm free with a cold glare. "Didn't I tell you that was a one-time thing? And that we should never speak of it again?"

Lancelot chuckled, low and amused. "Sure, sure. Whatever you say." He stuffed his hands into his pockets, his grin infuriatingly unbothered.

"But answer my question. Your face always gets that brooding look whenever it's about His Majesty or His Highness."

'Why is he acting like he knows me just because…' Lucius exhaled slowly, suppressing his irritation. 'But damn it, he's right.'

"I hate to admit it," Lucius said quietly, his voice edged with tension, "but you're correct. I am concerned about His Highness. And His Majesty…" He trailed off, his gaze narrowing. "His Majesty is just—"

"In regards to His Majesty," Lancelot cut in smoothly, "I'm assuming this is about the letter he received from Floramatria, yes? Besides the fact that he locked himself in some abandoned room for days with that Afton fellow—never explaining what was so important then just acted like everything was okay."

They had resumed walking, the corridor stretching long and silent save for the echo of their footsteps.

Lucius nodded once. "It's about the letter from Floramatria. Or rather… not even the letter itself. It's—"

"Your Majesty, a letter… has arrived from Floramatria."

Lucius stepped into the study, silver tray balanced in his hands. The letter rested upon it like it carried the weight of an entire kingdom.

Behind the desk, Heinz finally lifted his gaze from the parchment he had been writing, crimson eyes catching the glint of the wax seal.

His eyes narrowed.

Lucius blinked, unsettled. 'Shouldn't he be overjoyed? His Highness has been waiting desperately for a response from them…'

Heinz did not speak. He merely raised a hand, the silent gesture sharp, commanding. Lucius stepped forward at once, offering the tray.

The king plucked the letter from it calmly, while Lucius stepped back, tray pressed lightly against his chest like a shield.

'I hope it's good news.'

The faint rip of parchment filled the silence as Heinz tore the seal. Lucius's eyes followed every subtle shift in the king's face as he scanned the words.

Then it happened—his expression darkened. Not the calm of disappointment, but the quiet, dangerous storm before violence.

Lucius's throat tightened. "Did they… refuse to come, Your Majesty?"

Heinz lifted his gaze. The crimson flare in his eyes froze Lucius to his core.

A single look, sharp as a blade, was enough to send a chill racing down his spine.

Heinz was angry.

"Lucius."

Lucius bowed immediately. "Yes, Your Majesty?"

"Go to my bookshelf. The purple and green tomes. Behind them—you will find a box. Bring it to me."

The order was precise, unusual. Confusion flickered across Lucius's face, but he hid it with a nod.

"As you command."

Crossing the chamber, his boots thudded softly against the carpeted floor. The towering shelves loomed with volumes of history, treaties, forgotten knowledge.

He searched swiftly, fingertips brushing along worn spines until—yes. Purple. Green. He slid them out, resting them carefully against his arm.

There it was.

A box, tucked neatly out of sight.

Lucius reached for it, startled by how light it felt in his grasp. The faintest rustle within told him its contents were paper.

He carried it back, setting it gently on the desk before Heinz. "Here it is, Your Majesty."

The king opened the box without hesitation. Lucius leaned, eyes flicking down. Parchment, sealed envelopes—stacked in careful order.

Not random scraps, not forgotten correspondence.

Letters.

Heinz slipped the Floramatria letter inside the pile as though it belonged there, then closed the lid with a firm snap.

Lucius's brows knit. "Your… Majesty? Forgive me for asking, but… what are those? And why place the letter among them?"

Heinz's answer came calm, deliberate. "Tell Florian that his family is coming." His tone carried no warmth, only command. "But first—return the box to its place."

Lucius hesitated. This feels wrong. Very wrong.

His instincts screamed that this was not as simple as it seemed. That box was not meant to exist in plain sight.

But just as it had been a week ago—with Afton, with that hidden room, with secrets never explained—he could not question it.

He pressed a fist to his chest and bowed low. "As you wish, Your Majesty…"

"What do you think those letters were?" Lancelot asked at last, his voice stripped of its usual humor. For once, the knight's tone was serious.

Lucius's brows knitted, his expression hardening. "I don't want to say what's in my mind, honestly."

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of Lancelot's mouth, though his eyes remained sharp. "Then… can I make a guess?"

Lucius didn't answer. He only kept walking, boots striking the polished floor in steady rhythm. His silence was answer enough.

Lancelot's voice cut through the air behind him. "Do you think those letters were from Floramatria… addressed to his highness?"

Lucius froze.

The sudden halt was sharp, the echo of his step dying in the corridor. He turned slightly, his cloak swaying at his side.

Again, Lancelot was infuriatingly right.

'That was exactly what I was thinking.'

Especially since, in the brief glance he'd stolen earlier, Lucius could have sworn he recognized the familiar Floramatrian crest pressed into the wax of some envelopes.

The same seal that had never once arrived addressed to him.

Lucius's jaw tightened. "His Highness, ever since he arrived here, has been the only one who has never received a letter from his family."

His voice was low, controlled, but there was a tremor of unease beneath it. "I wasn't sure if that meant his family simply didn't care. King Asher certainly didn't seem to mind handing him over to His Majesty, but…"

He trailed off. He wasn't sure anymore. The silence pressed down between them like a weight.

Lancelot's steps slowed as he came up beside him. He crossed his arms, his tone strangely calm.

"Either way, it's not as though we can do anything about it. Strangely enough, the king seems… fond of His Highness. And us lonely hearts, who once fawned over the prince, can only stand by and watch."

Lucius turned sharply, glaring. "Fond?" The word tasted wrong on his tongue.

'Fond is an understatement. I'm getting concerned.'

He remembered Heinz's eyes—the way his anger had chilled the air, the way his hand had lingered too long on that secret box. That wasn't fondness.

That was possession.

Though once, Florian had been the one obsessed with Heinz.

But Heinz returning that obsession…

That thought was far more terrifying.

Because Florian was merely a prince.

And Heinz… was a monster.