Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight! novel Chapter 468

Chapter 468: ’A Happy Memory.’

An hour earlier...

"Your Majesty, I’ve brought Afton." Lucius’s voice was steady, but his eyes flickered with mild curiosity as he stepped into Heinz’s office.

Behind him, Afton entered—bright-eyed and, strangely, almost cheerful.

"Your Majesty, I was about to come to you before I got summoned," Afton said, already reaching into his coat.

He pulled out a folded piece of parchment with a kind of quiet triumph. "I heard back... and I got the spell that can recover memories."

Lucius’s brow arched slightly. His gaze darted from Afton to Heinz, lingering there a moment, but he didn’t voice the questions sitting on his tongue.

Instead, he shut the door with a muted click and took his place along the wall.

Heinz, who had been in no mood for conversation—let alone surprises—lifted his head at that.

Despite the irritation coiled in him from earlier, interest sparked faintly in his eyes.

"That was rather quick," Heinz said, his tone skeptical yet not dismissive.

"Apparently, he had the spell ready," Afton replied, stepping closer to the king’s new desk. "In case I found a patient in need. I can use it on you now, though... it might not be perfect."

The parchment was placed neatly before him, its edges still crisp.

Heinz took it, eyes scanning the runes and incantations inked across it. His gaze narrowed, then he shifted it toward Lucius—wordlessly demanding confirmation.

Lucius gave the smallest of nods.

’Should I do this now?’ Heinz’s fingers tightened around the paper.

Temptation stirred.

No—temptation clawed.

And in the end, it won.

He was already seething from the day’s events. If there was a chance—any chance—to uncover more about the relationship he’d apparently had with the original Florian, he couldn’t ignore it.

He needed to know why those memories had been taken from him in the first place.

And perhaps... if he was lucky, this would give him something to hold on to.

"Alright," Heinz said finally, voice firm. "What do I have to do?"

"Your Majesty?" Lucius’s confusion was clear. "Forgive me, but... did you not summon Afton to question him?"

"Pardon?" Afton asks, his brows knitting. "Question me? Did I do something wrong?"

"Stay quiet, and lock the doors," Heinz ordered Lucius, his tone cutting. "No one comes in. And whatever you see, you will keep to yourself."

Lucius’s eyes widened at the sudden shift but he bowed nonetheless, the metallic sound of the lock sliding into place echoing softly in the room.

Turning back to Afton, Heinz’s stare was sharp. "Answer my question. What do I need to do?"

Afton hesitated only a moment before taking the letter again. "You just need to remain seated as you are now, Your Majesty," he said. "However, I will have to get close and... touch your head, if that is acceptable."

A long silence stretched between them before Heinz gave a curt nod. "Proceed."

"Very well. Pardon me," Afton murmured, stepping forward. His hand rose slowly, cautiously, until his palm rested against the side of Heinz’s head.

His touch was steady, but there was an underlying wariness there—like he was bracing for resistance.

"Also," Afton continued carefully, "to bring you out of the spell, should it hold you too tightly... I may need to inflict physical pain."

"Pardon—" Lucius started sharply, but Afton overrode him before he could say more.

"Only if necessary. The instructions say those with many repressed memories sometimes struggle to return. I don’t know how much repressed memories you have, Your Majesty."

His fingers shifted slightly against Heinz’s temple.

"And one more thing—I cannot select a specific memory, nor will you be able to. What I can choose is the nature of it... happy, sad, or tragic. To test the spell, I’ll choose happy—if that’s agreeable."

Happy?

The word felt foreign in Heinz’s mind. He didn’t remember happiness—not in his first life, not truly.

If he’d ever felt it, it had long since been buried.

But maybe... that was exactly why he needed to see it.

He gave a single, decisive nod. "Go ahead."

"Please close your eyes," Afton instructed, his tone low but deliberate.

Heinz obeyed, letting his eyelids fall shut. Darkness met him, cool and still. He tried to steady himself—tried to keep the frustration from earlier, the lingering sting from his talk with Florian, and the shadow of Hendrix, from clouding his mind.

"On the count of three," Afton continued, his hand warm and steady against Heinz’s head, "I shall pull a happy, repressed memory."

"One..."

A faint thrum of unease rippled through him. What if this doesn’t work? But beneath that, another whisper: What if it does? He wasn’t sure which outcome unsettled him more.

"Your Majesty?" Florian’s sweet voice broke through the haze, gentle yet tinged with curiosity, as his warm hand cupped the side of Heinz’s face.

Florian was half-naked, draped in nothing but a satin robe that hung loosely over his shoulders, the silken fabric catching the faint light.

He sat perched on Heinz’s lap, close enough for Heinz to feel every breath.

"Florian," Heinz whispered, his voice low and almost reverent.

His fingers slid over Florian’s, pressing the delicate hand tighter against his cheek before lifting it, brushing his lips over the back of it. "You look beautiful."

His arms moved almost instinctively, circling around Florian’s slender waist, drawing him in until there was no space left between them.

Their bodies fit together like they were meant to—warm, flush, inseparable.

Florian’s soft laugh was like a bell. "My, is this your way of apologizing for how you treated me the other day?"

Heinz didn’t answer with words. Instead, he lowered his head, burying his face in the crook of Florian’s neck.

The faint scent of him—warm skin, faint florals, something uniquely his—flooded Heinz’s senses.

His lips pressed there, again and again, trailing soft kisses along that smooth expanse of skin.

His chest ached with an intensity he couldn’t explain.

’Why... why does my heart feel like this?’

"Your Majesty?" Florian gasped softly when Heinz’s teeth grazed his neck, the playful nip sending a shiver through him. "Heinz?"

Still, Heinz didn’t speak.

"Maxim?" Florian’s voice softened even further, coaxing him.

That name broke something loose in him.

Without thinking, Heinz rose from the couch, strong hands braced against the sides of Florian’s thighs as he lifted him with ease.

Florian’s legs curled instinctively around his waist, the satin robe parting slightly as he was carried.

Heinz’s gaze locked with Florian’s—steady, searching. Florian looked back down at him with a smile that was equal parts playful and impossibly tender.

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