Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight! novel Chapter 397

Chapter 397: ’No Time To Cry.’

Cashew stared at Alexandria with wide, cautious eyes.

’All the princesses were supposed to be on lockdown.’ The thought thudded heavily in his mind as he slowly stood up, brushing himself off. Still polite—still instinctively deferential—he offered her a hand.

Alexandria looked... stunned. Frozen in place.

But then—

She burst into tears.

Her fingers latched onto Cashew’s hand as if she were drowning and he were the last thing keeping her afloat.

He helped her up, but she immediately clung to him, sobbing uncontrollably.

"I—I heard the explosion..." she cried, her voice breaking between sobs. "I heard it was Azure... and when I left my room, there were no guards—n-none! So I went to check on Prince Florian! I was scared something happened to him!"

Cashew blinked. ’That was... exactly what I was going to do.’

He remembered the moment Azure’s enraged cry echoed across the palace—how the little dragon suddenly erupted into his massive form, tearing across the skies in a storm of fury.

Flames. Screams. Guards running.

Azure had never acted like that before. Something happened.

’Something terrible must’ve happened.’

He rushed out of his room in a panic, desperate to check on Florian. But now—

"You saw His Highness?" Cashew asked, hopeful, trying to steady his breath. "Is he okay? What did he say? Where is he now?"

At his question, Alexandria’s sobs grew louder. Her body shook, her hands trembling as she wiped her face with the back of her sleeve.

’...Why is she crying so much?’

"I didn’t—I didn’t see him!" she exclaimed. "He’s... he’s gone, Cashew! Gone!"

Cashew’s heart dropped. A sick, cold weight filled his stomach.

"...Gone?" he echoed. His voice was thin, disbelieving. "...What do you mean ’gone’? Did he leave his room? Did he go to Azure?"

"I mean..." Alexandria’s voice cracked. She looked him straight in the eye. "He left the palace!"

’Huh?’

Cashew took a small step back, his breath catching in his throat. "No... no, that’s not right. His Highness wouldn’t—he’d never—why would he leave? Not without telling me? Not without Azure?"

"I—I saw the letter!" Alexandria insisted. "He left a letter on his bed. He said he felt guilty for killing Delilah, but he had to. And now he’s afraid—he’s terrified of what comes next! So he ran. He ran because he couldn’t handle it anymore!"

Cashew stared at her.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

Just stared.

And that silence, heavy and cold, made Alexandria falter. Her sobs slowed. Her voice quieted. She looked at him nervously.

"...Cashew?" she asked.

He didn’t blink.

’This isn’t right.’

And then, quietly—calmly—he asked:

"...What did you do to His Highness?"

The change in tone was stark.

Alexandria froze. Her teary expression twisted in disbelief. "W-What...? What are you saying? That’s not a very nice joke. We really should—"

"I’m not going to ask again," Cashew said, stepping forward. His voice was low. Steady. Cold. "What did you do to His Highness?"

She stared at him, wide-eyed like a cornered animal, then stumbled back a step. "C-Cashew... you’re scaring me..."

But Cashew didn’t buy it.

He couldn’t.

He knew the truth.

Florian wasn’t guilty.

The rumors—Florian’s "confession"—were part of the king’s plan to expose whoever really killed Delilah.

And now that very person was standing in front of him, crying too hard, speaking too fast, too eager to point to a letter and claim Florian ran away.

Too convenient.

Too rehearsed.

And worse—

Alexandria was here. In this wing of the palace. A part of the palace that was restricted, especially during room arrest and dragon rampages.

’How did she get here? How does she know how to get here?’

And then—

"The princesses are suspicious. Don’t let them too close to Florian. Or at the very least, keep a close eye on them before I come."

The voice of the masked man—Cashew’s secret contact—echoed in his memory like thunder.

He had thought it was Scarlett. Maybe even Bridget because she seemed smart enough to pull something.

But now...

Now he knew.

Alexandria blinked. The performance was cracking. The sobs stopped. The trembling faded. She saw it in his eyes—Cashew knew.

And just like that—

Her tears disappeared.

A smile curved on her lips.

It was slow. Sinister.

Chilling.

The same face Cashew had always seen as delicate and graceful twisted into something grotesque.

Something monstrous.

And Cashew’s stomach twisted in return.

He clenched his hands into fists, stepping forward once more.

"What. Did. You. Do," he said again, each word a dagger. "To His Highness?"

Her smile? Gone. Replaced with a sneer that didn’t belong on the face of a supposed ’holy princess.’

"If anything... I should be the one threatening you."

’...Long gone?’ Cashew’s heart skipped a beat. His brows drew together. "What... What does that mean?"

"It means..." she whispered, "he’s dead."

"No..."

But Alexandria was pulling away now, ready to throw her head back in laughter. She looked so proud—so satisfied—so sure of her own brilliance.

He grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked.

Only Florian.

’He can’t be dead. He can’t be dead. Not him. Not His Highness. Not my prince.’

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