Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight!
Chapter 385: ’Complicated.’

Chapter 385: ’Complicated.’

’What... was that?!’

Florian slammed the door behind him the moment he stepped back into what he now mentally dubbed _{f|re(e)web.n\ovel. (c)o.m}

"The Kitchen of Humiliation."

His hands immediately flew to his skirt, yanking it down with frantic little tugs as if it would somehow erase what just happened.

His heart was pounding—no, slamming against his ribs. His breathing was shallow, and worse yet... the phantom sensation of Heinz’s hand was still there.

Right on his thigh. Warm.

’It was an accident. Right?’

...right?

His hands clenched into fists, then unclenched, then clenched again. His entire body was trembling—not just from embarrassment but from... something else.

Something heavier.

Something more confusing.

’But it didn’t feel like an accident.’

It was the same hand that commanded armies. The same hand that could level an entire city with a flick of a finger... pressing against his bare skin beneath the skirt.

Sliding... down. Slowly. Intentionally.

Florian gulped, pacing in tight circles around the center table like some wound-up doll about to snap.

’No. No. No. It couldn’t be... could it?’

It was hard. No—impossible—to read Heinz sometimes. There was no instruction manual for dealing with an emotionally constipated, overpowered king whose moral compass seemed to spin like a broken weather vane.

The problem was... it wasn’t just now.

Before, he thought their dynamic was simple. "Florian was obsessed. Heinz didn’t care."

Straightforward. Easy. A terrible trope he could navigate with minimal damage to his sanity.

But then... the memories.

The memories of the original Florian. Memories of drunken whispers. Rough hands holding him like he was something precious.

Words... words Heinz probably never intended to say sober. Or did he?

Was it the alcohol talking? Was it real?

’And if it was real, then why the fuck does sober Heinz... act like this?’

Then there was Delilah. And Drizelous. Both telling him—insisting—that Heinz wasn’t the man Florian thought he was.

They implied that he was... someone similar to Anastasia.

That maybe, he misunderstood Heinz.

’Misunderstood, my ass.’ Florian gritted his teeth. ’There’s nothing complicated about being an emotionally unavailable bastard.’

Except there was.

There so was.

Because now? Now every little glance from Heinz—every smirk, every fleeting brush of his gaze—felt like a loaded gun aimed straight at his heart.

It was supposed to be annoying. That was the script. That was what was supposed to happen.

Not this... this... complicated mess of emotions, and stolen touches, and burning gazes that made Florian’s knees weak.

He slammed his palms on the kitchen counter, glaring at the pile of ingredients waiting for him like they were the cause of his misery.

"Fuck." he hissed through his teeth. "Now I have to cook... and my hands are shaking."

His gaze drifted down to his own hands, trembling slightly. His fingers clenched tighter around the frills of his skirt.

’Stupid Florian’s body. Stupid original Florian. Why are you even in love with him?!’ His teeth gritted. ’Besides his stupidly handsome face... and his stupidly perfect body... and... okay fine, his voice too... BUT WHAT ELSE?! There’s nothing else to love!’

Florian squeezed his eyes shut, letting out a long groan as he lightly thumped his forehead against the cabinet door. "This is so. Complicate—"

"What’s complicated?"

"AH—!" Florian jumped nearly a foot off the floor, spinning around like a startled cat. His hands immediately flew to his chest as if that would calm his racing heart.

Standing there by the door, arms casually crossed under her chest, was Scarlett.

Her bright yellow eyes shimmered with amusement, and her signature red curls bounced as she tilted her head, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips.

"Scarlett?!" Florian gasped, voice a little higher than usual. "Wha— You scared me! What are you... what are you doing here?" His fingers nervously fiddled with the frills of his skirt, tugging it down instinctively.

Scarlett arched a brow, tapping her chin with one gloved finger. "Oh? You didn’t know? I’m here to ask my question... but..." She sauntered closer, hips swaying just slightly with every step. "I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t more curious about..." She gestured up and down at him with a sly grin. "...your very red face... and how you’ve been acting since you walked in here."

Florian felt his pulse spike again. His back pressed instinctively against the counter. ’Oh no. Oh no. Abort mission. Danger.’

Scarlett’s grin only widened as she leaned in a little more, lowering her voice to a mischievous whisper. "And..." she drawled, "about what I just saw between you and His Majesty."

His heart flatlined. For a brief second, Florian’s soul physically attempted to eject itself from his body.

He stared at her—mouth open, eyes blown wide, completely frozen—before his entire face erupted into a shade of red so intense it could probably be declared a fire hazard.

"W-WHAT?!" His voice cracked embarrassingly. "N-NOTHING happened!" His hands flailed in the air like he was physically trying to swat the accusation away. "Y-You’re imagining things!"

Scarlett didn’t even flinch. If anything, she looked thrilled. "Oh, come on," she grinned, one hand resting on her hip while the other pointed directly at him. "I saw it. Don’t play dumb. His Majesty practically had his hands all over you!"

"Shh—!" Florian nearly lunged forward, both hands clapping desperately over her mouth. "Don’t say it too loud!" His eyes darted to the door like someone was about to walk in any second. His entire body trembled—not sure if it was from embarrassment, panic, or both.

"He didn’t do it on purpose!"

Scarlett blinked once—slow, deliberate—completely unbothered, her ever-present smirk refusing to budge.

"Is... Is that what you really think?" she asked, her words muffled slightly against his palms, but the playful lilt in her voice was unmistakable.

Her muffled laugh vibrated against his skin, sending a ripple of secondhand embarrassment straight to Florian’s spine.

’Why. Why is this my life?!’ Florian internally screamed, mentally throwing himself out the nearest window.

Slowly, and with no sense of urgency whatsoever, Scarlett reached up and gently peeled his hands away from her mouth.

Her touch was casual, but her golden eyes sparkled with far too much mischief for his liking.

"Relax," she chuckled, giving his hands a little pat before letting go. "I doubt anyone else noticed." She stepped back just a hair, then paused—golden eyes dragging slowly from the top of his lilac-tinted head to the frilly hem of his skirt.

"Well..." Scarlett tapped her chin dramatically. "Anyone except... everyone with functional eyes."

Florian felt his soul leave his body. His hands curled into trembling fists as he bit back the overwhelming urge to scream into the void. His entire face was burning—he could feel it, from the tips of his ears all the way down to his collarbones.

’God. I’m going to die from sheer secondhand embarrassment. Forget the mysterious attacker. Forget magic. Forget Heinz. I’ll just combust and die right here.’

He forced himself to inhale—deep, sharp. "Lady Scarlett," he began, tone tight with restrained dignity, "did you really come here to ask me a question... or did you simply come here to torture me?"

Scarlett snorted, visibly fighting back a giggle as she leaned lazily against the nearest counter. "Oh, Prince Florian... I’m teasing." Her grin softened a fraction, just enough to feel a little more genuine, a little more familiar. "It’s been a while since we’ve had moments like this."

She cocked her head, watching him with an expression that was still playful, but not cruel. "But, in all honesty... I am curious. Because the moment you walked into the room, the tension between you and His Majesty was so thick, I could’ve sliced it with a butter knife."

Florian whipped around, clutching the fabric of his apron like it was a shield. "There’s no tension," he hissed, voice cracking halfway. "None. Zero. Absolutely nothing. Just... Just ask your question already so I can cook and—and stop implying things like that!"

He fiddled with the ribbon on his skirt, glaring down at it as if it were somehow responsible for all his problems. "And besides..." he grumbled under his breath, "shouldn’t you be... I don’t know... worried or something? If the other princesses even thought something was going on between me and His Majesty, they’d lose their minds."

Scarlett blinked. Then burst out laughing. Not loud—no, it was this soft, wheezing sort of giggle that somehow made it worse.

"Oh, Prince Florian," she sighed dramatically, brushing a strand of red hair behind her ear. "You and I both know... I couldn’t care less about His Majesty." She waved a hand dismissively like the very idea was dust in the air. "In fact..." Her grin turned sharp. "I would love it if someone else became queen. Specifically..."

Her golden eyes locked onto his emerald ones, sharp, daring. "If you became queen."

Florian stared. His brain lagged. He physically felt it stop functioning for a solid three seconds. His breath caught, eyes going impossibly wide. "W-What?!"