Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight! novel Chapter 534

"Our… dance?" Florian mumbled, blinking rapidly as the word sank in.

Right. Their dance.

For the past few days before the ball, Heinz had been insistent on it. Insistent in that unyielding way of his.

Florian had tried to refuse, claiming he didn't know how to dance, but Heinz had dismissed it as though it were nothing.

No practice, no explanation, no chance to even prepare himself. Heinz had simply told him it would be fine—and Florian, as always, had been cornered into agreeing.

Now it was here.

Heinz's thumb brushed gently against his cheek, the warmth startling in contrast to his piercing gaze. With his other hand, he extended an open palm toward him. "Shall we?"

Florian froze, his chest tightening as the weight of the room pressed in. He could feel the stares, the whispers—every single pair of eyes was fixed on them, but especially on him.

He didn't want this. Not the way it looked.

Not the way it felt.

Dancing with Heinz, in front of everyone, was… too much. It wasn't just formal or polite. It was romantic.

Painfully romantic.

It was the kind of scene ripped straight out of a novel—Romance 101. And Florian already felt he had been far too intimate with Heinz lately.

Adding a dance on top of that? It made his heart twist uncomfortably.

But still…

A dance meant closeness. A dance meant Heinz couldn't slip away. It meant Florian could finally ask him about the letters Kazaria had spoken of—the ones the original Florian had supposedly received.

If Heinz knew about them, why hadn't he said anything? And if he didn't… could he help Florian uncover them?

'I guess I have to.' His gaze lowered to Heinz's waiting hand, his breath shallow.

Slowly—hesitantly—he laid his hand atop Heinz's.

The moment he did, the world shifted.

Every light in the ballroom snuffed out at once, plunging the room into darkness. Gasps and shouts erupted around them like a storm.

"What's happening?""The lights!""Is there… a problem?""Is this an emergency?"

Chaos rippled through the crowd.

Florian's heart leapt, panic tightening his grip on Heinz's hand. He felt Azure jolt from his arms, the little dragon leaping away from his hold.

Where he landed—on the floor, on Heinz, or elsewhere—Florian couldn't tell. His mind was fixed only on the suffocating dark pressing in from every direction.

"Your Majesty, what happened to the lights—" he started, his voice shaking.

But then—

A glow.

Not the return of the chandeliers. Not the ballroom's brilliant golden light. This glow was softer, gentler—an ethereal blue drifting into existence around them.

Florian's breath caught.

'My butterflies?'

The luminous wings flickered in the air, fragile and beautiful, the only source of light in the darkened hall.

"What are they doing here?" Florian whispered, barely audible, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

To his surprise, Heinz's voice came just as quietly, a murmur meant for him alone. "They're here to dance with us."

Florian blinked, confusion flashing across his face. "To… dance with us?"

Was Heinz...joking?

And yet, even with the questions twisting inside him, Florian couldn't look away.

Before he realized it, Heinz had already guided him into the very heart of the ballroom. The guests circled at a distance, shadows at the edge of the glowing blue light.

The space belonged to them now—just the two of them, under the butterflies' soft radiance.

The dance floor.

Heinz stood before him, tall and unshakable, his gaze never once wavering. The tender way he looked at him made Florian's chest squeeze uncomfortably, and so he told himself it was only because of the light.

That the butterflies were painting softness where there was none.

"Are you ready?" Heinz whispered, his voice low, smooth—dangerously intimate. His fingers caressed the back of Florian's hand, the touch so delicate it almost felt unreal.

"I…" Florian's voice faltered, his throat dry. He whispered back, "…don't know how to dance, Your Majesty."

"Just follow my lead, Ilúvarei. Trust me."

A shiver ran down Florian's spine, his breath catching. That word again—Ilúvarei. Heinz spoke it as though it were sacred, a vow meant only for Florian's ears.

And yet, Florian didn't even know what it meant. Why Heinz would use the same word he once called the original Florian.

'Why me? Why that name?'

And still, deep down, it stirred something in him.

Something terrifyingly familiar.

Before he could untangle the thought, Heinz leaned down, bowing with perfect grace.

His lips brushed against the back of Florian's hand, warm and steady, a gesture so chivalrous it sent his pulse racing.

Above them, the butterflies responded—glowing brighter, their wings shimmering as they formed a circle overhead, like a halo spun of light and memory.

Florian's chest ached. He took in a sharp breath, forcing himself to steady his trembling heart, and nodded. "Okay, Your Majesty."