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All of Florian’s smugness evaporated the mont he stepped into Heinz’s room. The reality of his situation ca crashing down, his nerves instantly fraying under the weight of Heinz’s displeased expression. To make matters worse, he felt a slight dizziness creeping over him, no doubt from the overwhelming concentration of mana perating the room.

’It’s still making lightheaded... but it’s not as bad as before.’

"G-Good evening, Your Majesty," Florian greeted with a strained voice, bowing his head respectfully. He watched as Heinz, without acknowledging him, moved to sit at a table set with food and tea.

’Oh. Was he in the middle of dinner?’

Heinz didn’t respond, instead resuming his al with quiet precision.

Florian’s mind raced. Being summoned to a private room in any BL novel rarely ended well—well, not in that sense of "well." This scenario could only go one of two ways: he was either about to be reprimanded or... ’Nope, don’t even think about it. That’s not happening. Right?’

"Y-You, uhm... summoned , Your Majesty," Florian stamred, cursing himself for blurting out the obvious.

"Indeed, I did," Heinz said curtly, his focus still on his plate.

"May I ask why?" Florian ventured cautiously, his voice asured and polite.

Heinz didn’t answer imdiately, calmly cutting into what looked like roasted at paired with a colorful salad. He ate thodically, taking sips of tea between bites, his every movent deliberate.

’Why the fuck is he just... eating? This is so nerve-wracking!’

For what felt like an eternity, Heinz continued his al in complete silence, as though Florian didn’t even exist. The quiet was suffocating, the sound of the utensils scraping against porcelain only heightening Florian’s unease. He shifted his weight, his heartbeat thundering in his chest.

Finally, Heinz placed his fork and knife down with a soft clink, setting his napkin aside. Florian straightened slightly, hopeful.

’Is he going to speak now? Should I say sothing first? Maybe I should... Yeah, I should.’

"Your Majesty, may I—"

Before he could finish, Heinz raised a hand and slamd it down onto the table. A shockwave of invisible force rippled through the air, and Florian’s body was yanked downward as though controlled by strings.

His knees hit the ground hard, a sharp pain shooting through his joints. "Fuck, that hurt!" he hissed under his breath, wincing as he looked up to see Heinz rise from his seat.

Heinz’s footsteps were slow and deliberate as he approached, his imposing figure casting a long shadow over Florian. "Florian, have you forgotten sothing?"

Florian’s mouth went dry. "W-What, Your Majesty?"

"Judging by your response," Heinz said coldly, "it seems you have."

He reached into his coat and produced a sheet of paper. The mont Florian’s eyes landed on it, his stomach dropped.

’I knew I forgot sothing.’

It was the report—a detailed list Heinz had asked for regarding the princesses, the task he’d assigned Florian earlier that day.

"Your Majesty, let explain—"

"I gave you this task today," Heinz interrupted, his voice sharp and unyielding. "It was a simple, straightforward request. Do you really think there’s a need for an explanation?"

The invisible force holding Florian down tightened like shackles, pulling at his wrists and ankles. He groaned in pain, the magical restraints burning against his skin like iron heated by a fla.

"Y-Your Majesty," Florian gritted out, his breaths labored, "there... there wasn’t a chance for to et with the princesses today. Because of the... incident with Princess Scarlett earlier, we all ate separately. And... I-I had my own duties scheduled... for today..."

His voice faltered as the weight of Heinz’s magic bore down on him. ’How could I have forgotten sothing so critical? I didn’t even think it was due today! Damn it.’

Heinz lood over him, his expression unreadable. "Do you truly expect to believe that excuse?"

Florian could only kneel there, his mind racing for anything—anything—that might get him out of this ss.

"It’s not an excuse, Your Majesty," Florian said, his voice shaking as he looked up at Heinz. Desperation laced every word. "I would never risk execution by failing to follow your orders. Please... give one final chance. I swear I’ll deliver the report to you by tomorrow."

He pleaded earnestly, his heart pounding as he watched Heinz for any sign of rcy. The king, however, didn’t look directly at him, his gaze cold and distant. Florian wasn’t even sure if Heinz was truly listening, but he pressed on.

"Please, Your Majesty."

Heinz’s silence stretched out, the tension in the room nearly unbearable. Florian’s entire body trembled, and his mind scread at him to say more, to beg harder—but then, Heinz exhaled sharply, almost inaudibly. With a flick of his hand, the invisible bonds holding Florian down vanished.

Florian gasped softly, his limbs suddenly free. His wrists ached as he flexed them, and he fought the urge to collapse entirely. ’He... is he letting go?’

Unsure whether to stand or remain kneeling, Florian froze. Heinz, rcifully, broke the silence before Florian could embarrass himself further.

"I have assigned Lucius to aid you," Heinz began, his voice even and commanding. "I’m sure you already know that I find you highly suspicious."

He turned his back to Florian, walking away with the air of soone who had nothing more to prove. "Your actions now are drastically different from the ones you’ve displayed before. I do not know if this is so ploy to gain my attention, but if that is your intent, then congratulations—you have it. Whether or not you regret that is entirely up to you."

Florian’s chest tightened at the words. ’What the hell does he an by that?’

Heinz stopped in his tracks, and suddenly, the air in the room shifted. A heavy presence weighed on Florian’s chest, and the next thing he knew, he felt the cold, sharp edge of a sword resting lightly against his throat.

’No... not again.’

Heinz didn’t even turn around. The sword pressed slightly harder, the threat undeniable, and Florian’s heart raced. His mind briefly flashed back to a mont—a cold, distant image of himself, kneeling in front of a crowd, a sword raised above his head. His execution.

’It was... just like this. The image Kaz showed of Florian’s execution.’ he thought. ’This isn’t the first ti Heinz has threatened with a sword, but this ti... this ti feels different.’ The anger in Heinz’s eyes yesterday had been explosive, dangerous. But now, there was sothing colder, more calculated. It was as if every move, every word, was part of a larger plan.

"Do what you are told," Heinz continued, his voice chillingly calm. "And you will be spared. Do you understand, Florian?"

Swallowing hard, Florian bowed his head low, the sword’s presence a stark reminder of his precarious position. "I understand, Your Majesty."

The sword lifted, and Florian could breathe again. Heinz’s voice cut through the silence like a blade itself.

"Good. Now leave my room. Tomorrow, I expect a full report on all the princesses. Do not disappoint again."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Florian forced himself to his feet, his knees protesting with a sharp ache from the earlier impact. His entire body felt as if it had been twisted in knots, his mind reeling from the sword, the flashbacks, and the terrifying realization that whatever Heinz wanted with those reports... it was important—more important than he had imagined.

He bowed once more, trying to maintain so dignity despite the pain and anxiety. "Then I will take my leave."

Without waiting for further dismissal, Florian turned on his heel and headed for the door. Each step felt heavier than the last, his legs weak from both the physical strain and the emotional toll of the encounter. He opened the grand door and stepped out into the quiet hallway.

The mont the door shut behind him, Florian stumbled forward, his legs buckling beneath him. He barely registered the sound of soone rushing toward him until a familiar voice called out.

"Your Highness! I heard you were summoned—what... Prince Florian!"

It was Lucius, his typically composed face etched with genuine concern. He knelt beside Florian as the prince crumpled to the ground, his strength finally giving out.

’I have to get out of this fucking novel,’

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Florian’s execution image.

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