Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight! novel Chapter 463

Chapter 463: ’All Of This Already Happened.’

’So much livelier now than I was before so...’

Hendrix really does remember the past.

Doesn’t he?

Florian continued to stare up at him, his breath caught in his throat as Hendrix’s hand remained gently on his cheek.

The way Hendrix was looking down at him—with such fondness, such familiarity—it made something heavy stir in Florian’s chest.

Why... did he feel guilty?

"J-Just tell me... about this future. You... You told Cashew about a future where I died..." Florian’s voice faltered slightly, tripping over his words. He was momentarily thrown off by the softness in Hendrix’s gaze, the quiet intensity behind it.

Hendrix’s eyes dropped, his expression shifting—mournful now, regretful.

He looked... genuinely sad.

"Right," Hendrix murmured, his thumb brushing lightly over Florian’s cheek. "I have to tell you the truth, Your Highness. Or rather... I believe I should show you the truth instead."

"Huh?" Florian blinked, confused.

What did he mean by show?

"May I?" Hendrix asked gently.

Florian tilted his head. "May you what? I’m... confused." And he truly was. Hendrix’s words felt like riddles, and Florian could barely keep up.

"May I show you the truth?"

Florian blinked again, realization dawning.

Oh.

Hendrix wanted to show him what happened—what truly happened—in their first life. Not just what the novel told him. Not just what the original Florian had revealed in fragments. But the rest. The missing pieces. The raw, unfiltered memories.

The ones that might hurt.

Florian’s chest tightened. He wanted to say yes. He was curious—desperate, even—for answers. But...

"Uhm..." His voice trembled slightly. His hands clenched and unclenched by his sides. Something inside him recoiled, pulled back. Because all he could remember was—

The kidnappers. Forcing foreign, violent memories into his head.

Stabbing him when he tried to resist.

The pain. The terror. The helplessness.

It all flashed before his eyes.

And Hendrix must’ve seen it. That flicker of fear in his expression.

"What’s wrong?" Hendrix asked, his voice still calm, but now layered with concern.

"I uh... I got kidnapped recently," Florian admitted quietly, eyes dropping to the floor.

"I’ve heard of that," Hendrix said gently. "Is there... anything making you uncomfortable?"

"W-Well... you, you’re the strange man, right...? I... you were the one who showed me that... vision...?"

A small smile tugged at Hendrix’s lips. "So it did work. And you do remember."

Florian gave a reluctant nod.

"My... kidnappers did the same," he murmured. "But... they showed traumatic memories. They... used it to torture me. If... if you’re going to do the same, I..."

His voice cracked, just a little. He wasn’t used to being this vulnerable. This exposed.

But he couldn’t go through that again. Not right now.

Hendrix’s smile faded into something softer. Understanding.

’Really?’ Florian blinked. The original Florian told him the exact same thing?

There was a moment of silence between them. Hendrix simply stared at Florian—calm, composed, and unreadable. Meanwhile, Florian tried his best not to shift uncomfortably under the weight of that stare. It wasn’t hostile... but it was heavy.

’They’re so similar yet at the same time not.’ Florian thought, eyes narrowing just a little as he studied him. Heinz and Hendrix—both were Obsidian princes, both looked nearly identical, yet... there was something off. Something fundamentally different beneath the surface.

Verify captcha to read the contentVerify