Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight! novel Chapter 413

Chapter 413: ’Florian.’

Heinz turns around, his eyes widening when he came face to face with—

"Florian." He breathed the name like it had been caught in his throat.

Standing amidst the flowers was Florian, smiling gently at him. But even with the smile, Heinz could see it—the sadness in his eyes, deep and quiet, like something he was trying hard to hide.

Florian was dressed in a deep green coat embroidered with silver vines and small flowers. Purple and white blossoms decorated his shoulders and chest, blending with the garden around him.

The fabric shimmered slightly in the light, elegant but soft, almost like something out of a fairytale.

"Heinz."

The way Florian said his name—soft, bittersweet, almost reverent—sent a sharp ache straight through Heinz’s chest.

’That voice... it’s his, but it’s not him. No... it is him.’

"Or... shall I say, Your Majesty?" Florian added with a sad smile, the kind that didn’t reach his eyes.

Heinz’s breath caught. He stared, stunned, unmoving.

"You’re..." His voice wavered. "You’re not him."

Florian’s smile faltered, replaced by something more hollow. He let out a laugh—dry, wounded.

"That hurts."

Heinz immediately stiffened, the weight of guilt coiling deep in his gut. "I... didn’t mean it like that. I just meant that you’re—"

"Florian," he interrupted gently. "I’m Florian."

He stepped closer. Heinz didn’t retreat, but every inch of his body tensed, caught between instinct and memory.

"You’re finally looking at me."

The real Florian.

The one from his past life.

The realization hit Heinz like a slow-moving arrow—painful, piercing, impossible to ignore. This wasn’t the dream-like shell or the fragile version crumbling under trauma. This was him.

He hadn’t expected this.

He hadn’t prepared for this.

"Hm? Why are you suddenly silent, Your Majesty?" Florian teased lightly, but his voice trembled at the edges. "Heinz?"

The sound of his name, spoken like that, laced with both longing and pain, made Heinz’s heart clench.

"You’ve been here... the whole time?" he asked, keeping his tone even, but even he could hear the crack under the surface.

Florian tilted his head, hands lacing behind his back as he glanced around at the endless purple-and-green blooms swaying gently in a nonexistent breeze.

"It’s beautiful, right?" he murmured. "This place... it was made for me. Calm. Still. Untouched by pain. Of course, sometimes I still feel it—what he feels. But most of the time?" He smiled faintly. "Most of the time, I sit here. Peacefully alone."

"Peacefully alone doesn’t sound too promising," Heinz remarked quietly.

That earned a chuckle.

"Is that concern I hear? That’s new." Florian looked at him, eyes glinting with something unreadable. "Usually, you don’t care about what I have to say."

The words landed like a slap, not cruel—just true.

And Heinz had no defense.

’Because I didn’t. Not back then.’

His silence was answer enough. Florian laughed again, but it was quieter this time.

"Now, don’t look at me like that," he whispered, stepping forward. "It’ll break my heart."

His hand lifted, gently reaching for Heinz’s. Fingers brushed against his, soft and cold and familiar. Heinz didn’t pull away.

The contact sent a jolt up his arm, something more emotional than magical.

"Come," Florian said, tugging him gently. "You’re looking for him, right? Let me guide you."

Heinz allowed himself to be led, feet moving almost automatically.

He didn’t know what to say.

Didn’t know if he had the right to say anything at all.

’I never expected this. Never thought I’d see you again—not like this. Not remembering everything.’

Before, he had convinced himself that if he ever saw this version of Florian again, he would walk away. Ignore him. Pretend the past was buried and gone.

But he hadn’t accounted for regret.

Hadn’t accounted for how it would feel to see the real Florian—the one he had failed.

And somehow, now, it mattered.

More than it ever had before.

Florian led him down a winding path blanketed in violet and emerald blossoms, their petals brushing softly against their legs as they passed.

Heinz’s gaze remained fixed—not on the flowers—but on Florian’s back, on the gentle sway of his shoulders as he walked in silence, his hand still loosely holding Heinz’s.

’It’s him.’

’He’s crying...’

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