"HOW COULD YOU NOT REST ON THIS SPECIAL DAY!"
Drizelous’ voice screeched dramatically through the room, sharp and unforgiving, loud enough to make Florian flinch despite himself.
The day had co.
It was the first ti Florian would be leaving Diamond Palace for a few days since transmigrating—and for once, it wasn’t because he had been kidnapped, dragged, or forced into it.
’I should be relieved,’ he thought. ’So why does it feel heavier instead?’
This week was supposed to bring answers.
Why Elara had given him this task. What she truly expected from him. And sohow, in the middle of all that, he also had to figure out how to convince Hendrix to help return the original Florian to this body—
So he could finally go back to his own world.
’Back ho.’
The word felt distant. Fragile. Like sothing he was afraid to touch too closely.
But before any of that could even begin, reality intruded, as it always did. Heinz and Florian were obligated to formally see off the guests from the other kingdoms, along with the princesses who had chosen to depart.
Why Florian himself was part of this formality, he still didn’t understand.
He hadn’t even known until Drizelous and Cashew had burst into his room without warning, announcing it as if it were common sense.
’As if I had a choice,’ he thought dryly.
"Your Highness," Cashew said softly, concern unmistakable as his gaze lingered on Florian’s tired face. "Did you stay up all night thinking about what Rene said?"
"Maybe," Florian muttered.
Maybe ant yes.
He had.
He’d spent the entire night rereading Farah’s letter, over and over, until the words began to blur together.
He traced every uneven stroke of ink, every rushed line, searching for sothing—anything—that might have been hidden between them.
’A code. A ssage. A cry for help she couldn’t write on such short notice.’ Florian frowned at the letter in his hands.
But no matter how many tis he reread it, nothing changed.
The handwriting was ssy. Uneven.
Like she’d been rushed.
The words were short. Careful. Almost too simple.
’Was she running from sothing?’ Florian wondered, his chest tightening. ’But... soone from the manor delivered this letter.’
His grip tightened slightly. ’And Rene doesn’t even believe she left.’
None of it made sense.
It was all tangled, overlapping, refusing to settle into anything clear.
That was why Florian hadn’t slept.
The confusion sat heavy in his stomach, twisting until it made him feel nauseous, until even closing his eyes only brought more questions.
Now, standing in front of the mirror, the exhaustion was impossible to ignore. His skin looked pale, his usual color washed out, and dark shadows lingered beneath his eyes.
"Tsk." Drizelous clicked his tongue, already busy with his tools. "You should be grateful you were born with good skin and a gorgeous face. Even with those bags under your eyes, you still look expensive."
Florian huffed out a weak breath. "I’m sorry, Drizelous. It really was a rough night." He managed a small smile. "I didn’t even know I’d be given this task. Did... His Majesty just decide on it?"
"Well..." Cashew hesitated, clearly uncomfortable. "Usually, the ones who handle the send-off are the King and Queen, Your Highness."
Florian stilled.
"But since the princesses—Princess Athena and Princess Scarlett included—have officially left the harem and are technically guests now," Cashew continued carefully, "you’re the only one left. Which ans, in the eyes of the kingdom right now, you’re—"
"THE KING’S CONSORT!!!" Drizelous exclaid, far too loudly.
Florian flinched.
"Well, unofficially," Drizelous added quickly, unfazed. "But the rumors say His Majesty kept only you because you’ll be the—"
"No."
The word ca out sharper than Florian intended.
Drizelous froze mid-motion, eyes widening.
Cashew looked just as shocked.
Florian himself blinked, realizing too late how harsh he’d sounded.
’Fuck.’ He exhaled and shook his head. "I’m sorry. I didn’t an to—my head just hurts, and I—"
"It’s alright, Your Highness," Drizelous said softly, his tone imdiately gentler as he resud applying blush to Florian’s cheeks. He smiled, warm and reassuring.
Florian swallowed, eting his own reflection again.
’What is Heinz thinking? Why is he letting this happen?’
The questions lingered in Florian’s mind, heavy and relentless—but deep down, he already knew the answer.
Heinz loved him.
At least... that was what everyone believed.
Heinz was letting the princesses go because he thought it would soften sothing between them. Because he believed that if he gave up enough, if he waited long enough, Florian would eventually forgive him.
But Florian wasn’t going to.
He wasn’t the original Florian.
Love—no matter how sincere, how desperate—wasn’t enough to make him stay in this body, not when he knew the real Florian still existed sowhere inside it. Trapped. Waiting.
’I won’t steal soone else’s life,’ he thought bitterly.
No matter how tangled his own feelings had beco. No matter how ssed up, confusing, and unwanted those feelings toward Heinz were.
There was no world—no version of Hell or heaven—where Florian could live happily beside Heinz knowing the original Florian still existed.
That truth sat firm in his chest, unmovable.
"Cashew," Drizelous said softly, breaking the silence. "Could you fetch the ornants from my workshop? I believe I left them on my desk."
"Yes, I can," Cashew replied without hesitation.
"Oh—and if you don’t mind," Florian added quickly, offering Cashew a small smile, "could you get sothing to eat too? I’m starving."
Cashew brightened imdiately. "Of course, Your Highness! Right away!" He bowed deeply before turning to leave.
Florian watched his reflection as Cashew disappeared from the room. The mont the door closed, he let out a quiet breath and turned his eyes toward Drizelous.
"Uh oh," Florian joked lightly. "Am I about to get the talk?"
The words were playful, but dread coiled quietly in his stomach. As dramatic and flamboyant as Drizelous was, he was also observant—too observant. Florian knew he’d noticed the shift, especially whenever Heinz was involved.
And Drizelous was, by nature, painfully curious.
Drizelous t his gaze in the mirror and grinned—but it wasn’t teasing this ti. It was gentle, understanding, as his hands moved to fix Florian’s hair with practiced care.
"Tell , Your Highness," he said softly. "Has sothing in particular happened?"
Florian swallowed.
’So much,’ he thought. ’Too much.’
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