"In truth," Heinz began, his voice low and deliberate, "I had fallen in love with Florian. The... original one."
For a mont, his words faltered.
It wasn’t just pain—it was hesitation.
A reluctance to even let the na pass his lips, as though speaking it would bring the ghost of the other Florian into the space between them.
No, not this Florian. Not him.
The original.
And yet, Heinz had to say it.
Florian’s heart clenched, but he kept his expression carefully neutral. He didn’t want to jump to conclusions—not yet.
Not when he was finally starting to hear the whole truth about what bound Heinz and the original Florian together.
"However," Heinz continued, his eyes fixed sowhere beyond Florian, "I was against... the idea of being in love. Of feeling vulnerable."
His tone dropped lower, almost guttural. "No, perhaps it’s no secret... that I had never been surrounded by any kind of positive love. My mother... my father..."
Florian’s chest tightened. Heinz’s words were raw, heavy with a kind of vulnerability that startled him.
’But he’s being vulnerable right now,’ Florian thought, staring at him. It was almost frightening, seeing Heinz like this.
Heinz exhaled slowly, as though steadying himself. "Delilah suggested a book. A book filled with ancient and forbidden spells. Specifically... a spell that could erase mories. Or just very specific mories."
Florian’s breath caught. A spell to erase specific mories.
That sounded disturbingly familiar.
’It sounds like the spell Hendrix used on Cashew... right? So that’s what it was? An ancient spell?’ His mind spun. Pieces clicked together in ways that made his stomach twist.
"I wanted to forget," Heinz said, his crimson eyes narrowing. "To forget the night I had spent with him, and any remnants of loving him. However... perhaps it was when I got drunk, or because of the nature of my own strength... or perhaps it was simply my heart."
His lips pressed into a thin line, his jaw clenched.
"I always fell back on him. Every other night I had spent with him, I would return. Delilah would remind to use the spell. Sotis she would even force Florian to stay away from —because that was what I wished."
Florian’s thoughts scread.
’What the fuck?’
He didn’t know how to feel. Shock, anger, pity—it all tangled into sothing sharp in his chest.
But at least now he understood why Delilah had spoken to him the way she did. Why she told him Heinz was more like Anastasia than he realized.
Heinz was broken. Twisted by grief, fear, and power.
He was... fucked up.
"I had no mory of any of this when I woke in this life," Heinz admitted at last, his voice quieter, his gaze finally returning to Florian.
"Not until I grew to trust you. Until certain things happened between us that... awakened fragnts. Visions. mories that weren’t dreams, but pieces of another life. They returned slowly, just as you once described they had for you."
’Is that why he’s been so... close? Because he rembers his relationship with Florian? So all this ti he’s been using as a stand-in?’
The thought hit like ice water down his spine, and with it ca a surge of heat in his chest. If that was the truth, then—wow. Just wow.
Florian’s throat tightened. It didn’t just sting. It made him furious in a quiet, bitter way.
This whole ti, was he nothing more than a placeholder?
"While you were paralyzed from your trauma," Heinz began, his voice careful, asured, "Lysander suggested an Arcanior specializing in psychology. His na was Afton. I deliberately instructed him not to speak with you directly... because I had things to confirm for myself. Things I needed to understand."
He paused, crimson eyes locking onto Florian’s.
"I had to go inside your mind to bring you back. Because... the reason you were unresponsive wasn’t simply trauma."
Florian’s heart stopped. His breath caught halfway in his lungs.
’Is he saying what I think he’s saying?’
Heinz’s expression hardened with truth too heavy to be softened. "It was the original."
The words cracked like thunder across Florian’s chest.
"As you have probably suspected," Heinz continued, unrelenting, "the original Florian is still inside that body. He’s conscious. He rembers everything. That is most likely why you are seeing his mories—why they bleed into your own."
Florian’s hands curled into fists at his sides, his nails biting crescents into his skin.
’I knew it. I... I knew it.’
He had felt the original Florian’s presence, whispered in dreams, clawing through flashes of pain and despair. But to have it confird—like this—made his stomach lurch.
And worse than that... Heinz had known. Heinz had known all this ti.
He had kept it from him.
Why?
Why hide sothing so vital?
Everything could have been simpler if the original Florian had been allowed to resurface.
If Heinz had truly recognized his feelings for the first Florian—had co to terms with them—then shouldn’t he want him back?
Shouldn’t he want that Florian, not the impostor stumbling through his life?
So why?
Why was Florian still here?
Why was he the one being held, gazed at, touched so tenderly?
Why weren’t they doing everything to bring the original Florian back?
Why wasn’t Heinz tearing down every wall, breaking every seal, moving heaven and earth to send him—the replacent, the impostor—back to his own world?
The question clawed at Florian’s chest like a desperate scream.
"Florian, the original, and I had a conversation," Heinz said slowly, his voice weighed with sothing heavy, sothing raw.
"Of course, he was upset. I hadn’t realized just how much pain I caused him, and I... I initially felt guilty." His gaze flickered, his mouth tightening as though the guilt was still gnawing at him even now. "I wanted to help him. I wanted... to make it up to him."
Florian’s throat closed, his voice rough when he forced words out. "Then why didn’t you—"
"However," Heinz cut in, sharper than steel. "There was a major obstacle. A major obstacle that prevented from doing so."
The certainty in his tone made Florian stumble inside himself. He blinked, taken aback, his heart tripping over itself.
What obstacle could possibly stop him? Heinz, who commanded armies, who bent kingdoms to his will, who never once faltered when he wanted sothing—what could he struggle against?
Before Florian could question further, Heinz released his hand. For a breath, Florian thought he was free, that the weight on his chest might ease.
But then—
Heinz stepped closer, lifting both hands. His touch frad Florian’s face, palms warm against his skin, thumbs brushing his cheeks as though he were sothing delicate, sothing precious.
Florian’s heart seized. His breath hitched. A sharp panic rushed through him, mingling with sothing he couldn’t na—heat, fear, disbelief.
’Why... why is he touching like this?’
And then Heinz spoke, the words soft but firm, as if carved in stone.
"I realized... it wasn’t only the original Florian I had fallen in love with."
Florian’s entire body went cold.
What.
What?
His breath caught in his throat, a strangled sound almost escaping him. His vision swam, his thoughts shattering one by one.
He didn’t hear that right. He couldn’t have heard that right.
Did he really—
Was that really—
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