Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight!
Chapter 391: ’May We Come In?’

Chapter 391: ’May We Come In?’

"Pardon?" Lancelot asked, blinking as if unsure whether he’d heard the king correctly.

"I said," Heinz repeated, sharper this time, "make them leave. Then bring the knights... and the butterfly... here."

His tone was calm. Controlled. But beneath it was an unmistakable undercurrent of restrained fury.

His gaze snapped back to Lancelot, voice edged with steel. "Lancelot. You are to make sure every single princess stays confined to her chambers. Deploy knights to stand guard at each of their doors. But... do it quietly. No one is to know. Not the servants. Not the court. Not anyone. Not even Drizelous."

’Fuck. Drizelous... I wonder how he’d take the news.’ Florian thought with a frown.

Then Heinz’s eyes flicked toward the group of princesses. The weight of his stare was suffocating. Cold. Unforgiving.

Everyone flinched under it—except for Alexandria, who stood there unnervingly still. Almost as if...she had nothing to fear.

"Not. A. Word." Heinz growled, voice dropping low and lethal. "Not a word about Delilah’s death to anyone outside this room. Do I make myself clear? I will be the one to announce it. When I deem it necessary."

The princesses nodded hurriedly, heads bowing so fast it was almost pitiful.

Florian’s hands balled into trembling fists, nails digging into his palms. His throat was dry, the air in the room feeling thinner with every second.

’This... this feels like a death sentence waiting to happen. What the hell is going on?’

Then—

"What... what will happen to Prince Florian?" Scarlett’s voice wavered, thick with genuine worry. Her brows furrowed as she glanced between Heinz and Florian, her usual snark nowhere in sight.

It startled Florian. He’d never seen her look like that. Never...for him.

And then Alexandria opened her mouth. "Yes, Your Majesty... Please... Please do not punish him too harshly."

Her tone—pitiful, sad, fake.

Like she was already mourning him.

Florian stiffened, resisting the urge to scoff. ’The fuck? Why does she sound like...like Heinz already declared me guilty?’ His stomach twisted. ’No. No, something’s wrong. Something’s seriously wrong with her...’

Has she always sounded this fake?

Heinz’s eyes narrowed. "We haven’t deemed him the criminal yet," he said sharply, his words slicing the tension like a blade.

There was an audible gasp from several of the princesses. Even Florian’s breath hitched.

’Wait...he’s...defending me?’

"Do not," Heinz continued, "go ahead of me, Alexandria." His tone was firm. Cold. It was the verbal equivalent of a slap.

Alexandria stiffened, visibly caught off guard. Her lips trembled before she bowed quickly, masking her surprise. "O-Of course, Your Majesty. I-I didn’t mean to assume... I... I also don’t think Prince Florian would do something like this."

The way she said it made Florian’s skin crawl.

Scarlett shot her a glare so sharp it could’ve drawn blood. Florian didn’t blame her this time. Not one bit.

’She’s... suddenly acting friendly again. Was her kindness towards me ever real? Or was she just kind to me all this time to get closer to Heinz?’ His chest ached with bitter realization because she was obviously trying to get on Heinz’s good side.

"Come with me, princesses," Lancelot ordered, stepping forward. His tone was all knight—professional, steady—but there was tightness around his mouth.

The princesses began filing out one by one. Some were crying. Some sniffling. Athena hesitated, casting Florian a pleading, tearful glance. Scarlett too.

He offered them the smallest, most fragile smile he could manage. One that said "It’s okay" even though nothing about this was okay.

And then Alexandria... Alexandria followed, her face set in that same carefully crafted ’worried’ mask that Florian, for now, wanted to rip apart.

’I’ll have to deal with her later.’

The door clicked shut.

Silence.

Oppressive. Suffocating.

It was only Heinz. Lucius. And Florian now.

Lucius didn’t even wait a second. He turned immediately toward Heinz, kneeling so quickly it was like he feared the ground would swallow him if he didn’t.

"Your Majesty," Lucius started, hurried, desperate, "before you say anything—Prince Florian wasn’t lying. I could see it. I swear to you, he’s telling the truth. Please—"

"I know he wasn’t lying." Heinz cut him off, voice eerily calm, arms folding over his broad chest. His crimson gaze stayed fixed, unwavering.

Lucius blinked. "...Y-You...you do?"

"Did you think," Heinz’s eyes darkened, "I was being sarcastic when I said he wasn’t the criminal?"

Lucius’s lips parted slightly in shock, as if he hadn’t expected Heinz’s blunt response.

’Wait...’ Florian blinked, glancing toward Lucius. ’Lucius... assumed Heinz was lying? Why? Even I didn’t think he was lying...’

There was a strange sting in that realization. It almost felt like betrayal—like Lucius, of all people, should’ve known better.

"I... I just..." Lucius stammered, voice faltering as his hand clenched into a fist against his thigh. "I assumed... with everything... pointing to His Highness, that maybe you might’ve..."

"Well, I didn’t." Heinz’s voice sliced clean through the air, sharp and commanding. His crimson eyes narrowed, glaring. "I’m not an idiot. Nor is Florian. He wouldn’t pull a stunt like this. And if he did..." Heinz let out a scoff, folding his arms, "he wouldn’t have gotten caught."

His gaze flicked toward Florian—piercing, assessing.

Florian’s heart skipped, thumping wildly against his ribs.

’W-What... What the hell? Why does hearing him say that... make me feel...?’

For the briefest moment, Heinz wasn’t the cold, untouchable king. He was someone who... believed in him. Defended him. Protected him.

And it made Florian’s chest ache in a way he didn’t like.

’He’s confusing. So confusing. He’s acting strange today. Saying weird things... looking sad... even scared... What is wrong with him?’

Florian swallowed, lowering his head. "T-Thank you... for trusting me... Your Majesty." His voice trembled despite trying to hold it steady.

Heinz didn’t reply. His eyes simply lingered on him for a second longer before shifting back to Lucius.

Lucius, though still visibly shaken, stood back up, exhaling as though some massive weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Relief was written across his face—mixed with lingering confusion.

"Besides the butterfly," Heinz started, tone turning colder, sharper, "were there any other clues? Anything left behind?"

Lucius shook his head, tight-lipped. "No, Your Majesty. Only the butterfly."

Silence.

Heinz exhaled slowly, like a predator calculating its next move. "Then it’s safe to assume... the butterfly went there. It wasn’t placed there."

He turned his sharp gaze toward Florian. "The question is... how?"

Florian bit his lip, thinking quickly. "The butterflies... they can think. They understand my words to an extent. But... most of the time, they only listen to me. Occasionally..." he hesitated, "...occasionally Cashew. But even that is rare."

He felt a prickle of unease recalling how sometimes the butterflies would linger around people—especially Alexandria—when they were agitated.

’But never... never like this...’

"Have they..." Heinz’s voice softened just a fraction, "ever been known to poison before? At any time? Prior to this?"

Florian immediately shook his head. "No. Never. I’ve had plenty of visitors in my room. Even Lucius." His voice faltered as the words slipped out.

At that, Heinz noticeably stiffened—subtle, but Florian caught it.

’Must’ve been the wind.’ Florian forced the thought away, pretending not to notice as heat crept uninvited to his cheeks.

Lucius, oblivious, pressed on. "Well... before this incident... did they behave unusually, Your Highness? Something strange? Anything at all?"

Florian frowned, recalling carefully. "Actually... yes. They’ve been... more restless lately. Agitated. Flying around a lot more... like something scared them. But... I didn’t think much of it."

Heinz’s eyes darkened. He exchanged a glance with Lucius, thoughtful. "The perpetrator... whoever’s behind this... may have done something to the butterflies. Or at least to one of them. Scared it enough... provoked it... twisted its instincts."

Florian’s throat tightened painfully. "No..." he whispered. "No, they... they would never poison anyone. Not even strangers. Someone must’ve... done something. Controlled it. Forced it." His voice shook with a mix of fear and protectiveness. "But... how...? What could force them to do something like that...?"

"We’ll know..." Heinz’s eyes flicked toward the door, sharp as daggers. "Once the butterfly arrives."

As if on cue, there was a knock.

"Your Majesty, it’s Gareth." A muffled voice filtered through the wood. "I am here under the orders of the commander, along with Elias... and the butterfly. May we come in?"