Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight! novel Chapter 460

Chapter 460: ’Spiraling? Not Spiraling.’

"Right away, Your Majesty, but..." Lucius spoke cautiously as he stepped forward, his tone uncertain, as though weighing the weight of what he was about to say. "Regarding Prince Hendrix, we... I observed something very suspicious about him that I believe you should know."

Heinz pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes shut, trying to suppress the rage steadily burning beneath his skin. His voice came out tight and clipped. "What?"

What more could he possibly have to know about that fucking nuisance?

Lucius hesitated for a beat, then said, "I couldn’t see his emotions at all. There has only ever been one person I’ve been unable to read—and that’s always been you, Your Majesty. I had no idea His Highness, Prince Hendrix, could even use that kind of magic considering..."

He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t have to. Heinz already knew what he meant.

Considering Hendrix was only half-Concordian.

Heinz opened his eyes slowly, the red in them darker now. "Alright. Go fetch Afton now."

That order alone made both Lucius and Lancelot tense.

"T-That’s all, Your Majesty?" Lancelot asked, clearly expecting more. More orders. More fury.

"That is all. Just do what I asked you both to do." Heinz said, waving them off with a hand before leaning back against his chair with barely contained irritation. "And someone get rid of this damn desk."

He motioned toward the shattered remains of his desk—the jagged splinters and splintered drawers a reflection of the storm still swirling inside him.

The two exchanged uncertain glances, then lowered their heads in unison. "As you wish, Your Majesty," they replied before quietly turning and exiting the room.

The heavy silence that followed their departure settled around Heinz like a suffocating fog. 𝒻𝑟𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝑛𝘰𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝘤𝘰𝘮

Finally alone, Heinz allowed himself to breathe—but it wasn’t relief that filled his lungs.

He had to think.

He needed to think.

Because, damn it—Florian was right.

Lucius had just confirmed it: Hendrix could conceal his emotions, something no one else had ever been able to do. Not unless they were like Heinz.

And that changed everything.

Hendrix knew something.

And Hendrix might also have memories of their first life.

Not even might.

Because Florian had been right. Again. Uncomfortably right.

Hendrix had stayed away from the palace for years—hid himself in the farthest edges of the kingdom. Never appeared. Not once. Until Heinz’s twenty-second birthday.

That wasn’t coincidence. That wasn’t ambition.

It was something else.

Heinz could’ve understood if it had only been about the throne. He could’ve played that game—could’ve ended that game.

But Hendrix was after Florian, too?

’Did Hendrix care for that one night with Florian that much? Did—’

"Agh," Heinz hissed as a sharp pain shot through his skull, forcing him to clutch his head. It was sudden, piercing—an invisible knife lodged somewhere deep inside.

And then the chest pain followed. It wasn’t physical. It was heavier. Worse.

It was emotional.

"Y-Your Majesty! You’re... please don’t...!"

Florian’s voice—raw, trembling—echoed in his head. Heinz’s eyes widened as the sound reverberated within him, slicing through his thoughts like glass.

’What?’ Heinz thought, gripping his temples.

His breath caught.

His heart dropped.

’Was that another memory?’

Florian had been sobbing. Heinz could feel it—hear it in the way his voice cracked. It wasn’t fear. It was something deeper. Desperation. Grief.

"Please don’t what?" Heinz muttered aloud, eyes narrowing, pain tightening his face. "Fuck. Why am I not remembering certain things? What is this?"

Is this also what the original Florian meant? That it wasn’t over?

Because of Hendrix?

Did the original Florian know? That Hendrix also had his memories? That he was coming for Florian?

And why the fuck did Heinz hate that more than anything?

Was the original Florian... waiting for Hendrix?

Fuck.

No.

Heinz’s pulse roared in his ears. His breaths came quick, shallow. The room felt too small, too quiet, too still.

He would end Hendrix.

All his.

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