Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight!
Chapter 406: ’A King’s Way Of Torture.’

Chapter 406: ’A King’s Way Of Torture.’

Trigger Warning: This Chapter contains graphic scenes of physical and psychological torture, including intense violence and trauma-related content. Reader discretion is strongly advised.

"Why are you crying, Alexandria?" Heinz’s voice was deceptively soft, a cruel imitation of concern as he knelt before her. His gloved hand gripped her chin tightly, forcing her tear-streaked face up to meet his gaze. "Aren’t you in love with me?"

She flinched, her lips trembling as tears streamed down her face. Heinz’s eyes narrowed.

"Don’t you like this?" he whispered—then unleashed the current.

Electricity crackled through his fingertips as he cast a pulse of magic directly onto her skin. Alexandria’s entire body jolted violently against the restraints.

Her back arched, her muscles spasmed, and her throat constricted with a silent scream. The silencing spell robbed her of even that dignity.

He didn’t let go.

"You said you’d do anything to be with me," Heinz said, his voice sharpening. "You stalked, manipulated, killed just to be near me. So this—" his fingers dug into her cheek as another shock burst into her skin "—should be what you wanted."

Idris began thrashing in his own chair, eyes wide, making strangled sounds behind the gag. He looked like he was trying to scream—plead—but Heinz ignored him.

Alexandria was shaking her head in small, frantic movements. She was begging, no doubt.

’Begging me to stop, after what you did to Florian?’

Heinz leaned closer, his tone dropping to a low growl.

"How much of his suffering was you, Alexandria?" he whispered. "He trusted you. Saw you as a friend."

Another jolt. Stronger. Her eyes began to roll back, her body convulsing.

Then he stopped.

Not out of mercy—but because he wasn’t finished yet.

She wasn’t going to die like this. No. If Alexandria was to die, she would die in front of everyone. With her shame laid bare for the world to see.

He turned.

To him.

Idris.

The one who had licked Florian, bit him, stabbed him—violated him.

The monster.

Heinz’s eyes dropped down. Disgust curled his lip as he saw the man’s limp, exposed flesh.

"This?" Heinz muttered coldly. "This pathetic thing is what you touched him with?"

Rage snapped through him. He raised his boot—then stomped. Hard.

Idris jerked violently, his muffled scream gut-wrenching. Alexandria tried to close her eyes, but Heinz noticed.

"Close your eyes," he said icily, "and I’ll rip one out."

She sobbed harder, her body quivering.

"One..." he began calmly, lifting his foot from Idris’s twitching body.

Alexandria kept shaking her head, trying to look away.

Heinz grabbed her by the hair and forced her gaze forward. "Two..."

She whimpered, and Heinz placed a thumb just below her eye, pressing with slow, dangerous pressure until she was forced to open it in panic.

"Good," he hissed. "Keep them open. Unless you want them gone."

He turned back to Idris.

There was no hesitation.

Heinz donned one of his gloves, bent down, and grasped the man’s limp member with utter disdain.

"Disgusting," he muttered. And then he pulled.

Hard.

Idris let out a high-pitched, agonized moan behind the gag, his whole body convulsing in his restraints.

Alexandria’s scream, though still silenced, was written across her face.

"Keep your eyes open, Alexandria," Heinz said, his voice like ice as he kept pulling, twisting. "You don’t get to look away. You get to watch."

Heinz pulled once.

Then twice—harder.

He ignored the garbled cries and thrashing, his expression emotionless as he watched the flesh slowly tear away from the base. It was sickeningly slow—intentional.

And then—

Rip.

The sound of tearing flesh echoed sharply in the chamber.

Blood sprayed violently, splattering across the stone floor and staining Heinz’s gloves. Idris’s scream was visceral—so piercing and raw that even the magic sealing his mouth shattered from the force of it.

"AGHH—FUCK! FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKING PSYCH—!"

Before he could finish, Heinz moved.

Fast.

With a chilling calm, Heinz took the severed, bloodied member and rammed it into Idris’s open mouth—forcing it in with such force that the man’s eyes bulged, body seizing.

"Since you love putting things where they don’t belong," Heinz muttered, his voice like poisoned silk, "here you go."

He pushed it deeper.

"Ggghh—gnnnghh—!" Idris choked, gurgling on his own mutilated flesh. Tears poured freely down his face. The smell of blood and bile hung heavy in the air.

’Disgusting,’ Heinz thought, sneering down at him.

Then he noticed it.

Alexandria had turned her head away—eyes tightly shut, as if trying to vanish into the darkness.

He couldn’t have that.

He stepped away from Idris and slowly approached her.

"Now why," Heinz asked coldly, "would you close your eyes?"

His voice was terrifyingly calm, far more frightening than when he’d been yelling.

"Do you hate yourself that much?"

She whimpered, shaking her head—but it was too late.

He reached her, took her face between his hands, and without warning—

He pressed his thumbs into her eyes.

Her body writhed violently in the chair. Blood gushed from her sockets. A muffled, garbled scream erupted from her throat. She thrashed with whatever strength remained, but Heinz was immovable.

With one clean motion, he pulled her eyeballs out and let them fall to the floor with a sickening plop.

He stepped back.

"Pathetic," he muttered, wiping his blood-soaked hands against her restraints. "I had half a mind to let Florian see how I dealt with the two of you. He laughed, you know—when I blew the first kidnapper’s head off."

"It was amusing." He folded his arms across his chest. "But then I realizied, I don’t want to taint his eyes any further than they already have been."

His voice softened, but the malice in it remained.

"I won’t even let him see your execution. I’ll make sure it’s like you never existed, Alexandria."

He turned away, not finished—but tempted to be.

And then—

The heavy doors creaked open.

Heinz didn’t turn around. "What?"

A beat of silence.

Then Lancelot’s voice: hesitant, almost breathless.

"Prince Florian is awake."

Heinz stilled.

A flicker of surprise crossed his features before his eyes sharpened, filled now with something new.

Urgency.

He finally turned, gaze locking with Lancelot’s.

"Finish this. Keep them alive. Their execution is at dawn."

He didn’t wait for a reply.

With a flash of magic, Heinz vanished—teleporting away from the blood-soaked chamber.

His thoughts no longer on vengeance, but on a boy with tear-stained cheeks and green eyes.

’I’m coming,’ he thought.

But first, he had to wash the blood from his hands. He refused to touch Florian with even a drop of it.