Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight! novel Chapter 400

Chapter 400: ’Please Come For Me.’

Trigger Warning: This Chapter and Chapter 401 contains intense psychological trauma, physical violence, and emotionally disturbing content. Reader discretion is strongly advised.

"Fuck!"

Florian’s eyes snapped open just as the shock of cold water soaked his skin, seeping into his pores like ice.

He gasped, his back arching off the mattress as the chill shot down his spine.

His blurry vision struggled to adjust under the single, flickering light that hung above him like a cruel spotlight.

The world around him was dim, oppressive, and smelled of mildew and iron.

"What...where—"

A voice interrupted the disoriented panic.

"Well, well... such colorful language for a prince."

It was low, gruff, and coated with mockery. Familiar in the way evil always was—never quite a stranger, even when met for the first time.

Then everything came rushing back—like a cracked dam finally breaking. 𝚏𝐫𝚎𝗲𝕨𝐞𝐛𝕟𝚘𝐯𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝗺

Alexandria.

That white-lotus.

The person who Florian thought was his friend.

She planned this.

’She...’

His breath caught.

His wrists were tied tightly above his head with enchanted rope, burning faintly with containment runes. His ankles were spread and bound to the bed’s frame. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t cover himself.

A thin, almost transparent blanket clung to his damp skin, the only thing concealing him—barely.

And surrounding him were six men. Their eyes didn’t just look—they devoured him.

"No... no, fuck—let me go! You fuckers—LET ME GO!"

He thrashed violently, the ropes digging deeper into his skin, but it was pointless. The bindings held fast.

Laughter echoed across the room.

"Why would we let you go?" the man who seemed to be the leader stepped forward, smirking as he pulled a dagger from his belt. "Your little princess paid a damn fortune to give you the royal treatment."

He ran the tip of the dagger across Florian’s chest—lightly, tauntingly.

It was cold, enough to sting, to leave behind a thin red trail. Florian flinched at the touch, recoiling as much as his restraints would allow.

"You’re insane," he spat. "You think this ends well for you? Do you really think you’re going to get away with this?"

The man’s smirk deepened.

"Of course. The plan’s solid. That princess of yours?" He laughed. "She’s spinning a whole tale about how the pretty little prince ran away out of guilt. Everyone’ll believe it."

Florian’s heart skipped.

’That bitch...’

But instead of fear, he let out a sudden, sharp laugh. The sound was bitter—mocking.

The man’s eyes narrowed. "What the fuck are you laughing at, Prince?"

"I’m laughing because she’s an idiot," Florian hissed, lifting his chin despite the sting in his wrists. "She has no idea what’s really going on. Let me guess—she thinks I was under arrest? Room arrest, maybe? That his majesty believes I killed Delilah?"

The hesitation in the room was palpable.

"...Sir, that is the plan," one of the thugs behind him whispered. "She said that’s what the palace thinks..."

The leader flinched.

"She made a mistake," Florian said coldly. "Because that story? That was our idea. Mine and His Majesty’s. We fed that rumor to catch whoever tried to finish the job. You’ve already walked into our trap."

Silence fell like a stone.

They didn’t speak—but they didn’t have to. Florian could see it in their eyes.

They believed him.

The leader’s jaw clenched.

"...You’re bluffing."

Florian sneered. "Am I? Based on your expression, you know I’m telling the truth. So, I suggest you run now. Because the king is coming, and when he gets here—"

Suddenly, fire exploded in his skull.

"AAAH—FUCK—!"

The pain was indescribable—like his brain was folding in on itself, nerves screaming as if they were being crushed and burned all at once. His limbs spasmed violently. He screamed again, voice cracking into ragged sobs.

"MAKE IT STOP—PLEASE—STOP!"

He didn’t even register the man walking closer. Didn’t hear the dagger clatter to the floor.

"Useful little trick, huh?" the leader murmured as Florian thrashed. "Underground magic. Just needed mana stones. Your dear little princess gave us enough to line the walls with them. Real considerate."

"STOP IT! PLEASE—I’LL—AAAH—"

’Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.’

His voice came out as a broken whisper. "...Why? Why are you still doing this...?"

"...Now we start."

It wasn’t just sadistic amusement. It was satisfaction. Like he’d been waiting for this moment.

"Don’t—" Florian’s voice cracked. "Go away. Stay away! Please—please stay away!"

’What do I do? What do I do?’

He searched his mind for an answer, a plan, a lie—anything. But nothing came. The fear clouded everything. Every thought slipped like water through his fingers.

They weren’t like Arthur or Charles, enemies who had ambitions and beliefs Florian could twist.

’No... these men want nothing but to hurt me.’

They didn’t need a reason. They didn’t want one.

And somehow... that made them worse.

The man climbed onto the bed, the mattress creaking beneath his weight. Florian’s breath came in sharp gasps as the man leaned over him—then reached out and placed a hand over Florian’s face.

His palm was cold.

Too cold.

It pressed down over Florian’s eyes like a shroud, suffocating and final. 𝒻𝑟𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝑛𝘰𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝘤𝘰𝘮

"Time for you to experience pain you’ve never felt," the man whispered, his voice brushing against Florian’s ear with a mockery of intimacy.

A faint glow emanated from the man’s palm, seeping into Florian’s skin like ice and fire all at once.

’No—no, no, no! What is he—?’

The world shifted. Twisted. Like the floor of his mind had caved in.

Florian screamed—but there was no sound. His body remained on the bed, but his mind—

His mind was being dragged.

It felt like he was falling through water, pulled into a current made of memories and nightmares, thoughts stretching and snapping like thin thread. He saw images—blurry, broken. Faces. Voices. Screams that weren’t his.

’What is this... what is this magic?’

Florian whimpered, tears spilling freely, his body convulsing under the invisible weight of whatever was being forced into him.

’Heinz...’

The pain sharpened, slicing through every thought. It wasn’t just physical—it was psychic. Emotional. It was grief, regret, guilt, despair—all twisted together into a spiral that dragged him deeper.

’Heinz, please...’

He couldn’t speak.

He couldn’t scream.

He could only think—and hope.

’Please... come for me.’