Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight!
Chapter 408: ’Safe With Me.’

Chapter 408: ’Safe With Me.’

Two days had passed since Delilah’s death.

Two days since Florian had been taken—torn from safety, from everyone who cared for him.

And in those two days, everything inside the Diamond Palace had changed.

Everything inside Heinz had changed.

Alexandria and Idris had been publicly executed the morning after Florian woke up.

Stoned—then beheaded.

Heinz didn’t attend. He didn’t need to.

He had made sure the other princesses were forced to watch, their eyes trained on what happened to a traitor—what happened to anyone who touched Florian.

Let them tremble.

Let them remember.

Let it etch into their memories.

’Try him, and you’ll follow her.’

Lucius had taken on the mountain of political consequences. After all, Alexandria wasn’t just a criminal.

She was a princess from Sanctus Regnum. And now, she was dead.

Killed by Heinz.

Tensions rose instantly between Concordia and Sanctus Regnum. And though Lucius was doing all he could to smooth things over...

Heinz wasn’t worried.

If war came, it would be nothing but a massacre. Concordia didn’t lose wars. And Heinz didn’t spare lives.

He was ready.

But for now, Sanctus Regnum remained silent.

Whether from fear or calculation, he didn’t care.

Delilah, too, had been laid to rest.

By Drizelous’ request, Heinz gave her a proper burial—silent, respectful.

Despite everything, she had raised him. Protected him. Even if she’d made mistakes.

He could at least give her that much.

The Diamond Palace itself had undergone sweeping reforms in only forty-eight hours.

Lancelot had tripled the security. No one came in or out without inspections. New guards were hired, old passageways sealed.

Every weak spot—every entry point—was sealed tight.

Lucius took over managing the maids, butlers, and all servants. With Delilah gone, the palace needed new order. Absolute control. Heinz made sure it was enforced.

But none of those changes—none of those reforms, executions, or threats—meant more to him than the boy lying next to him now.

Because the biggest change in Heinz’s life—

"HELP! HELP—!"

Heinz’s eyes snapped open.

The room was dark, the moonlight spilling faintly through the curtains. Florian’s body thrashed beside him, tangled in the sheets, limbs flailing, his voice hoarse and raw from screaming.

Tears streaked his cheeks.

Heinz was already moving.

He pulled Florian into his arms, steady and firm. Not too tight, but enough—enough to anchor him.

"It’s okay," he murmured softly, hand cradling the back of Florian’s head. "You’re safe now, Florian. You’re safe."

The prince didn’t respond.

Not really.

His breathing was uneven, his chest rising and falling in sharp, shallow gasps. His eyes were open—but vacant. Gone.

As if the real Florian was still trapped somewhere far away.

Like a doll with its strings cut.

Cashew had tried to approach earlier that day. Just to check on him. Just to see him.

Florian had screamed.

But with Heinz... he didn’t scream.

Somehow, it was only him Florian allowed near.

And Heinz—he said nothing more. He simply kept holding him, fingers stroking his back in slow, calming motions. Rocking slightly, gently, as one might cradle a child.

"H-Heinz..." Florian’s voice was no louder than a whisper, muffled by Heinz’s chest. "Heinz... Heinz..."

"I’m here," Heinz whispered, repeating it like a sacred vow. "You’re safe with me, Florian."

Each word felt like a lifeline. Florian’s body slowly eased, his crying softening into hiccups and trembling breaths.

Minutes passed.

And eventually, Florian drifted back into a broken, exhausted sleep.

Heinz lay him gently back down onto the bed, tucking the blanket around him with precise care. Then, without thinking, he placed a hand on Florian’s cheek. His thumb brushed against the tear stains there.

’Most of his injuries have healed... physically.’

But that was the problem, wasn’t it?

Florian hadn’t spoken properly since the incident. He only muttered in nightmares—pleas, screams, or Heinz’s name.

When awake, he was silent. Still.

He stared into nothingness. Flinched at movement. Barely blinked.

He didn’t speak to Cashew. Couldn’t even look at Lucius or Lysander.

The sight of any man, aside from Heinz, left him trembling and in tears.

Cashew had taken it the hardest.

The poor boy had cried in the hallway more than once, whispering through the door, "I’m sorry, Your Highness. I’m here. I’m still here..."

And still, Florian never responded.

Heinz had been the one to bathe him. Or rather—he had hand-selected a small, trusted group of quiet, gentle maids and made his orders very clear.

"If a single word escapes this room... if I hear so much as a whisper—"

They hadn’t needed him to finish the sentence.

Heinz was feared for a reason.

But he had never feared anything in his life the way he now feared losing this boy again.

As Heinz sat at the edge of the bed, watching the soft rise and fall of Florian’s chest, his hand never left him.

He rested it gently on Florian’s, fingers threading over his knuckles.

He didn’t close his eyes.

Didn’t sleep.

He just sat there, quietly, guarding him.

The next day, Heinz stood silently outside his room.

Inside, the maids were bathing Florian—carefully, gently. Only the most trusted ones. Heinz had made sure of that.

Lucius approached him, carrying a neat stack of letters and papers.

"Your Majesty," Lucius began, bowing slightly, "the dukes send their condolences regarding Delilah’s passing. Many also asked me to extend their regards to Prince Florian."

He handed Heinz a bundle of letters, followed by several documents.

Heinz’s eyes narrowed. "Why are you giving me so many papers this early?"

Lucius let out a breath, clearly prepared for that reaction. "These are from the dukes. Village project proposals, permit approvals—urgent matters that require your immediate attention."

He hesitated for a moment, then added, "Some are addressed to Prince Florian."

Heinz clicked his tongue but took the documents anyway. Annoying as it was...

Lucius pressed on, "That village project means a great deal to Prince Florian. I thought... you’d want to keep it going, for him."

Of course.

Even now, when Florian barely spoke—barely moved—Heinz could still hear that voice in the back of his head.

’If you keep neglecting your duties, I’ll do them myself!’

He wouldn’t let Florian down. Not again.

"...Fine," Heinz muttered. "Anything else? He’ll be done with his bath soon."

Lucius straightened a little. "Yes. Lysander would like a private audience with Your Majesty. He’s asking when would be the best time to speak with you."

Heinz raised an eyebrow. "What for?"

"Prince Florian’s mental state." Lucius’s voice dropped slightly. "Sir Lysander may know someone—someone who might help him recover, or at least explain... what’s happening."

There was a pause between them. Neither needed to say it out loud, but they both knew what he meant.

Because Florian wasn’t just traumatized. It was like... part of him was gone. Not just fearful. Absent.

Heinz’s gaze shifted slightly, staring toward the door of his room. His voice came lower, more thoughtful now.

"Tell him to come in the afternoon. Florian sleeps deeper then. His worst nightmares hit at night."

Lucius gave a short nod.

But Heinz noticed it—the hesitation. From the corner of his eye, he could tell Lucius wanted to say more.

Just like Lancelot had yesterday.

He didn’t need to ask. He knew why. They love him. They’re worried. Maybe they had every right to be.

But Heinz didn’t care.

Not about their feelings. Not that he ever did.

Florian was his to protect now. Whatever Heinz felt, whatever he couldn’t yet name—none of that mattered.

Because this time, he wouldn’t walk or turn away.

"If you have nothing more to say, leave," Heinz said, already reaching for the door. "I need to go back inside."

Lucius hesitated again, then finally spoke.

"There are... rumors," he said carefully. "Because of your public statement. Because of how the court reacted to Alexandria’s execution. Some people are starting to believe Prince Florian might be the ’Chosen Queen.’"

He paused, watching Heinz’s hand on the door.

Lucius continued, "Should we address it? Ease the tension among the remaining princesses?"

For a moment, Heinz didn’t say a word.

Then, he pushed the door open.

Without looking back, he said coldly, "Let people believe whatever they want to believe."

And with that, he stepped inside, shutting the door behind him.