Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight! novel Chapter 528

"You're hiding something."

Kazaria didn't hesitate, her words sharp as an arrow loosed from a bow. Her emerald eyes narrowed, locking onto him with the intensity of someone who refused to be deceived.

"What?" Florian blinked, his throat tightening, his lashes fluttering nervously.

"Don't lie to me," Kazaria pressed, stepping closer. The cool edge of command in her voice slipped, replaced by something far more personal, far more piercing. "I've known you since the moment you were born. And don't even try to say we're only a few years apart—you know my memory never fails me."

The crown princess aura she carried so effortlessly fractured, melting away. What stood before him wasn't a ruler-in-training, wasn't the heir of Floramatria.

It was just his sister.

An older sibling staring through him, refusing to be fooled.

"I'm…" Florian faltered, completely caught off guard. His steps stilled as Kazaria released his wrist, squaring her stance and setting her hands firmly on her hips.

"Don't lie."

"I haven't even said anything yet!" Florian protested, his voice cracking into something perilously close to a whine. He crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at her with the stubbornness of a cornered child.

"Yes, but I know that look." Kazaria tilted her chin, her lips twitching in the faintest smirk of knowing. "You're about to spin some flimsy excuse."

"I am not!"

"You are."

"I'm not!"

"Rian."

The weight in her tone forced him to sag, exhaling through his nose in frustration. He turned half-away, his shoulders tense, rubbing at his temple as though her persistence was drilling straight into his skull.

"Look," he said at last, quieter, his voice more fragile than he'd intended. "I really have to talk to my friend. Maybe I am hiding something…" His eyes flicked toward her, pleading, before dropping back down. "But if I could tell you right now, I would. Really. I just… I can't say anything I'm not certain about."

Kazaria's gaze sharpened further, the older sibling mask in full force now. "You started acting strange the moment we brought up our letters." Her voice dipped to a near-whisper, but every syllable was laced with fire. "You never received them, did you?"

Florian's breath caught. His eyes widened.

'She's good.'

"I knew it." Her expression darkened, anger flaring in her voice. "I had a feeling that no good king—"

"Shh!" Florian hissed, panic exploding through him. He darted forward, one hand shooting up to clamp gently but firmly over her mouth. His eyes darted around, frantic, scanning for listening ears. "Don't say things like that, Kaz—"

And then the word slipped out.

Oh.

Kaz.

Not Kazaria. Not her full name.

Just Kaz.

The nickname fell from his lips like muscle memory, raw and unguarded.

For a heartbeat, the world seemed to stop.

But Kazaria didn't recoil. She didn't scold him. Her green eyes softened, the steel melting into something warmer—something achingly familiar.

When he lowered his hand, her voice came out steady, though edged with fury. "Why shouldn't I? He took you from us. And now you're telling me he hasn't even been giving you our letters?"

Florian shook his head quickly, his hand half-raised again as though ready to silence her once more. "I'm not even sure he knows about the letters," he whispered urgently. His words tumbled fast, desperate.

Crystal goblets clinked, nobles laughed too loudly, and the sweep of silk gowns brushed past him as he wove his way through the glittering crowd. His eyes, however, had already locked onto two familiar figures.

Lucius. And—unexpectedly—Lancelot.

The butler and knight stood side by side near the edge of the hall, half-removed from the merriment, speaking in low voices.

Lucius's posture was composed as always, his pale hair gleaming like spun silver under the chandeliers, while Lancelot's hand rested casually on the pommel of his sword, his expression more animated.

'They've been around each other a lot lately…' Florian noted, narrowing his eyes slightly as he drew closer. 'Strange. But… they look good together.'

The thought brought an unexpected flicker of relief—something about seeing two steady figures united, even if it was just conversation.

Florian quickened his steps, weaving smoothly through the gaps in the crowd, the edges of his cloak whispering against marble as he passed. A noble nearly stumbled into him, too caught up in drink, but Florian shifted just in time, his balance sharp despite the chaos around him.

It was Lancelot who noticed him first. The knight's keen gaze snapped toward him, recognition flashing instantly in his orange eyes. His back straightened, voice ringing out above the din of the hall.

"Your Highness!"

The single call made heads turn, the ripple of attention passing over them like a wave. Lucius turned at once, bowing fluidly, and Lancelot followed suit, their movements practiced, precise.

In unison, their voices overlapped, deep and steady:

"Happy birthday."

The formality of it contrasted with the warmth beneath their tones, and Florian couldn't help but soften, the heaviness in his chest easing if only for a moment.

"Thank you, both of you," he said, his voice low but sincere, the corners of his mouth tugging upward. His gaze lingered on Lucius, his eyes sharpening as determination returned to him. "But uh pleasantries aside..."

"I… need to speak with you," he added, directing his words squarely at the butler.