Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight! novel Chapter 531

"So, we have come into an understanding, right?"

Asher's words slithered into the air, low and deliberate, his lips curling into a smile Heinz could only describe as vile.

The resemblance was uncanny. Every time Heinz looked at him, he saw echoes of Florian—the same delicate features, the same sharp grace.

But where Florian's beauty was luminous, almost disarming in its sincerity, Asher's was steeped in something darker.

The similarity was eerie, as though Florian's face had been twisted into a mocking mask.

A bone-chilling aura radiated from the king consort, the kind that prickled at Heinz's skin and lingered like smoke.

Yet Heinz reminded himself—Asher had no real power here. No command, no authority to raise a hand against him. Not in any way that mattered.

And still, the unease settled deep in his chest.

The entire conversation—centered around Florian—should have been reassuring. Every phrase, every slyly offered point, landed in Heinz's favor.

On the surface, there was nothing to protest. Nothing to fight against.

Yet each word left a bitter aftertaste, gnawing at the back of his mind.

'To think, he's betraying his wife and his daughter just to make sure Florian never comes home.' Heinz's jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing, though he kept his composure still and cold.

Moments earlier…

The two of them had drifted into one of the quieter wings of the ballroom, a recess lined with marble pillars and tall windows where the sound of music and chatter dulled into distant echoes.

The moment Heinz stepped in, the subtle clink of glasses and low whispers faded as the nearby guests and servants glanced at him—then, recognizing the king, they scattered quickly, leaving him and Asher alone.

It was deliberate, Heinz knew. Wherever Asher went, silence followed.

The consort moved with practiced elegance, his robes whispering against the floor, his pale hands folded neatly before him.

He looked every bit the refined noble, but there was something serpentine in the way he carried himself—like he was gliding rather than walking.

Heinz stopped. And like a reflection, Asher stopped as well.

"Truly…" Asher broke the silence first, his voice calm, smooth as poured wine. Heinz's gaze flicked toward him, guarded.

"…such a wonderful soiree you've hosted." Asher's lips curved, but his smile didn't reach his eyes. "It reminds me of the balls I used to host in Floramatria. I'm sure that child is happy to have a ball dedicated for him."

'That child?' Heinz's brow arched faintly.

"Do you mean Florian?" he asked, his voice firm.

Asher's lips stretched wider, but Heinz recognized the falseness in it—smiling not with warmth, but with amusement. "Yes, that child. Back in our kingdom, he worked very hard, you know. Harder than most would realize."

The words made Heinz's mind stumble. 'Worked hard? Florian? A prince—working?'

"What do you mean, he worked hard? He's a prince, is he not? And a male at that."

"Precisely." Asher's tone sharpened with the faintest edge of mockery. "And since our women are the ones who fight for the kingdom, who provide, who carry its burdens… then the men must shoulder what remains. Managing the household. Keeping order. Ensuring that nothing falters while the women fulfill their duties."

He spoke with a lilting calm, as though he were lecturing a child, not a king.

"And since I fulfilled my role," Asher added smoothly, one hand gesturing with casual grace, "of birthing my daughters—many, and all of them beautiful—and a single son, it was only natural to pass the responsibility of the palace onto him."

Heinz's eyes hardened, his brows knitting. "Like a servant?"

Asher chuckled, a low, airy sound, fingers brushing his chin as though amused. "Servants? We have no such word. Or rather—we do not use it. Those who work for us do so willingly. But our numbers are few, by choice."

His head tilted slightly, eyes narrowing with a predator's calm. "So yes, it was that child's task to see to the palace. To ensure everything was accounted for, maintained, ordered."

"…But why?" Heinz asked, voice low. He could feel his irritation rising, a burn in his chest he couldn't quite swallow down.

This—this was information he had never heard.

Not once.

And every new word left a sour taste in his mouth.

Asher only smiled again, serpent-like, letting the pause stretch until it pressed heavy between them. "Because a male's worth is only twofold: to bear children, and to serve the women of his family. If he fails the first, then he must at least succeed in the second."

His voice lilted, sharp as glass beneath silk. "That child has done neither. Tell me, Your Majesty… does it trouble you?"

His head angled ever so slightly, emerald eyes glinting. "Do you care that much for him?"

"I'm afraid," Asher said, his voice finally dipping lower, steady, heavy, "that they are planning on waging war if that is what it takes to bring him back."

Heinz blinks, his expression a carefully carved mask — unreadable, composed — even as his fingers curl into tight fists at his sides until the knuckles pale.

"And you speak of this so casually?" His voice is low, steady, the syllables edged in steel. "Do you realize the consequences of what you're implying?"

Asher lets out a light, hollow laugh that does not reach his eyes. He lifts a hand and, with languid, practiced fingers, twists one of his ornate rings as if the metal itself were a plaything.

The sound of the ring sliding on his skin seems absurdly loud in the charged silence. "Of course," he says. "But I thought it would be better to inform you now than for you to be blindsided later. After all, my dear wife and daughter are… resolute women. Once they've set their eyes on something, no power, nor dragon would dissuade them."

The words land like a thrown stone. Heinz's shoulders tense; a muscle at his temple ticks.

Surprise flares there, bright and involuntary.

"And you're just telling me this?" The question is more a knife than an inquiry. "Why?"

"I do not want war," Asher replies, tilting his head with the faintest smirk. "Personally, I do not think the boy is worth the war. Everything is better with him here, and with us back in our kingdom. My dear wife is still angry with me for even letting him come here."

'Not worth the war?'

Heat creeps into Heinz's face despite his composure. He takes a step forward, so small the distance hardly changes the room, but the movement carries the weight of threat.

"What makes you think I won't just kill them now then? And massacre all of you."

Asher's smile does not falter. He inclines his head, palms open in a mock gesture of surrender. "Because I'm sure that boy would not like that, and it does seem like you value his opinion of you. And there are easier ways of settling this."

Heinz's jaw tightens; the taste of iron floods the back of his mouth. 'Easier ways.'

The phrase pricks at something older in him — protocols, treaties, a stubborn hope that diplomacy can be cleaner than blood. He forces a laugh that is all muscle. "Oh, yeah? And what's that."

Asher leans forward a fraction, the rings catching the light and scattering it into tiny stars. He speaks with the calm of a man who has already played his gambit out a dozen times. "Well—"

Presently, a voice broke through Heinz's remembering.

"Your Majesty? I have been searching for you."

Both Heinz and Asher turned at once, their gazes snapping toward the source.