Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight!
Chapter 382: ’This Again?!’

Chapter 382: ’This Again?!’

Florian had a bad feeling.

A really bad feeling.

The moment he stepped into the hall and saw the princesses watching him with thinly veiled grins and eyes sparkling with mischief, he knew something was off. And what unsettled him more was how Heinz—stoic, unreadable Heinz—was actually smiling in front of them.

No attempt to hide his amusement, no neutral mask. Just plain, entertained.

Something was definitely wrong.

’I don’t know if it’s because of what Drizelous said, or because they’re all looking at me so creepily, but I’m getting such... bad vibes.’

Florian’s feet felt heavier the closer he got to the tall door off to the side. His hands twitched slightly as he clasped them together, trying to appear composed. He forced a tight smile on his lips, but even he could feel how fake it was.

’I can feel them staring.’

He glanced at the door again, then back at the group.

The princesses were still watching. Alexandria looked far too smug. Athena looked like she was trying not to laugh. Even Scarlett, who normally didn’t get along well with the others, looked way too invested in whatever was about to happen. And Heinz... Heinz was just lounging on his throne with that infuriating smirk.

’I feel so nervous. But Heinz won’t let anything bad happen to me, right?’

Right?

"Any minute now, Florian," Heinz’s voice cut through the air like a blade of ice—and yet it was teasing. He didn’t even bother to hide the glint in his eye.

Florian’s stomach dropped.

’Never mind. He’ll definitely let something bad happen to me for the sake of this stupid test.’

He frowned, stepping in front of the door. His hand reached out for the handle, his fingers curling around the cold metal until his knuckles turned white. He gritted his teeth.

"Okay," he whispered to himself under his breath.

He opened the door.

But just before he stepped through, he squeezed his eyes shut.

If he was going to have a breakdown—or scream, or faint—he preferred to do it inside. Privately.

And thank the heavens he did.

Because the moment the door clicked shut behind him and he opened his eyes, he felt his soul leave his body.

The air in the room was different—too still, too quiet. And what greeted him first was not a menacing torture chamber or even a formal exam table.

It was... a kitchen.

A full kitchen setup, complete with a fridge, oven, chopping boards, and a stack of cooking ingredients. On the other side of the room, there was a long table half-set for an afternoon tea party, with delicate cups, porcelain teapots, sugar tongs, and folded napkins shaped like swans.

Florian blinked.

Then his eyes landed on the real horror.

Three mannequins.

Dressed in three different-colored outfits.

No.

No, no way.

Not just any outfits.

Maid outfits.

Frilly, ridiculous, over-the-top maid fucking outfits.

He stared at them, lips parting in disbelief, then slowly lifted his hand to cover his face.

’They must be joking.’

His voice barely escaped his throat as he muttered, "They must be kidding? What’s the goal? What is the goal?"

He took a few cautious steps forward, staring at the mannequins like they might suddenly spring to life and attack him with feather dusters.

Each one had a name tag above it—clearly labeled for stages or roles, perhaps.

And of course, just pinned onto the middle one—a black and red number with lacy hems and a ridiculous ribbon—was a folded piece of paper.

Florian groaned, dragging a hand through his hair.

"This is revenge," he muttered, voice flat with disbelief. "This has to be revenge. Alexandria, you smug little—"

He didn’t finish that thought.

’I can’t believe I’m about to be humiliated by a bunch of princesses in an exam disguised as a tea party-slash-cooking challenge-slash-fetish fantasy.’

Despite himself, he stepped closer to the note. Curiosity—and sheer dread—getting the better of him.

He reached for it with trembling fingers.

"Instructions," the label read.

Of course.

Of fucking course.

Florian let out a long, suffering sigh. His soul was already halfway gone.

Florian took the note delicately, unfolding it with the same care someone might handle a cursed scroll. The handwriting was instantly familiar—elegant but with a flourish that made the letters almost bounce off the page.

’This is Alexandria’s handwriting.’ He narrowed his eyes, bracing himself.

Hello, Prince Florian!

Welcome to your test. The test we decided for you is simple.

Each and every one of us are from different kingdoms—a queen should know about different kingdoms and alliances.

And as a wife, you should know how to take care of the king.

We’ve decided to mix those two qualities together. Your test is that you should have enough knowledge from previous studies, or even studies from your kingdom about us, and create food for each of us, based on our kingdom.

There will be various of recipes provided for you, and you have to give us the right food.

On top of that, you have to make sure to set the table for us in a way that would satisfy the king. We will also be asking you random questions about us and our kingdoms—you earn a point for every correct answer, and lose a point for every wrong one.

And of course, I’m sure you’ve seen the maid outfits! I’m sure you can tell this is just a small and funny revenge for the awful trick during our test.

You may choose whichever outfit you prefer.

Good luck!

Signed, Alexandria ♥

Florian stared at the letter.

Then stared at the maid outfits.

Then stared at the letter again.

His soul visibly left his body.

"Oh God." He exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I have to cook? While wearing a maid outfit? Isn’t this... a bit much?"

His eyes flicked back to the three mannequins—mocking him with frilly lace, ribbons, and pastel humiliation. One of them had bells sewn on the hem. Bells.

’Is this a test or a humiliaton ritual?’

Florian let out another groan, long and filled with dread. He reached for the paper again, scanning the details with more focus.

’Okay. Kingdom trivia? Fine. Kaz and I wrote an entire page about kingdom lore. I know what foods are important to their cultures. That’s manageable.’

And it was true—he’d written entire summaries on trade routes, festivals, royal delicacies, and alliance treaties. It was deep lore he’d practically memorized out of passion and pride.

That part didn’t bother him.

What did bother him was the idea of doing all of that—cooking, serving, answering rapid-fire questions about ancient conflicts—while dressed like a damn maid.

Not even a dignified, high-class servant.

A teacup-rattling, ankle-showing, pantyhose-wearing maid...again.

And this time...

IN FRONT OF HEINZ.

’This is revenge. This is absolutely, one-hundred percent revenge. Oh, how could the sweet Alexandria ever think of something like this?’

Still, Florian looked back at the instructions and sighed again.

’Well... if I screw this up, I’ll embarrass myself. But if I refuse? I’ll just give them even more reason to tease me. And Heinz is definitely enjoying this—bastard.’

He turned back to the maid outfits, dread creeping back up his spine.

’At least let me pick one with dignity.’ He narrowed his eyes at the less revealing and less short one. That one looked... vaguely tolerable. Slightly less frilly. Slightly more formal.

Slightly.

’Okay. You’ve survived worse, Florian. You got thrown into a damn BL novel, kidnapped, nearly killed, had the most mortifying sexual encounters with literally the worst possible person to have it with, and you’re still being hunted by who-knows-what. This test? You can survive this.’

He squared his shoulders and exhaled.

"Fine. Let’s do this."