Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight!-Chapter 215: ’Leila’s House...Again’

’We’re here again... and not even an hour later.’

Augustus knocked firmly on the wooden door. The dull sound echoed into the morning air, unnaturally loud against the stillness.

For a moment, silence. Then—

"Come in."

Florian’s breath caught in his throat.

That voice. It was Leila’s, but something was wrong. The hoarseness, the frailty—it hadn’t been there before. His fingers twitched at his sides as he turned slightly, looking at Heinz.

Calm. Unshaken. As if the entire world could shift beneath their feet, and he wouldn’t so much as blink.

Florian, however, felt like something was prying apart the seams of his reality.

He followed Augustus and Kane inside.

The moment he stepped through the threshold, his entire body tensed.

’What the fuck.’

It was the same house. It had to be. But everything felt different. The air—cleaner, lighter. Gone was the dust, the suffocating abandonment, the staleness that clung to the walls. The shelves were wiped clean, the table no longer bore old stains, and instead of decay, a faint scent of sickness lingered in the air. freeweɓnovel.cѳm

And then he saw her.

Leila.

She lay on the bed, dark hair spilling across the pillow, her skin pale as parchment. Her cheeks were hollowed, lips cracked, arms thin and frail where they rested atop the blanket.

Florian’s chest tightened, breath coming too fast.

’She... didn’t look this bad earlier.’

His mind raced. He had spoken to her not long ago—just moments, in the grand scheme of things. She had been exhausted, yes, but standing, speaking, looking at him with sharp, empty eyes when he told her Levi was dead.

This Leila looked as if a strong breeze might shatter her.

His stomach twisted violently.

She blinked up at them, her lips trembling before curving into the faintest smile. "Ah..." Her voice cracked. "I... I’m sorry I couldn’t meet with you sooner..."

Florian froze.

’What do you mean sooner? We already spoke.’

Was she lying? It didn’t seem like she was.

She hesitated, her gaze flickering between them as if searching for something familiar. Then, with a small cough, she whispered, "You must be...?"

His heart lurched.

’She’s definitely lying, right? But it’s really as if...’

She didn’t recognize them.

His fingers curled into his palms, nails biting into his skin. A sickening unease settled in his stomach.

This novel was supposed to be some tragic sexual comedy. Now, it felt like the genre had shifted to horror.

Augustus, unbothered, gestured toward them with an easy smile. "This is Aden and Anastasius," he introduced smoothly. "They have come on behalf of the king."

"The king?" Leila’s lips moved, barely forming the words before she gave a weak nod. "Aden... Anastasius..." She exhaled, then coughed, her body trembling with the effort.

Kane was beside her in an instant, carefully supporting her as if she might break. "Are you alright?"

She gave him a faint, tired smile. "I’m fine... I’m just glad to finally meet them."

Florian felt cold, as if something had reached inside him and pulled.

’This isn’t real. It can’t be.’

Had he imagined their previous meeting? Had it all been a fever dream, a trick of his mind? Or was this the dream?

His pulse roared in his ears.

Azure shifted within Florian’s cloak, rustling slightly, but he barely noticed. His thoughts were too tangled, too preoccupied with unraveling Leila’s impossible behavior.

Augustus turned to him, his voice even, oblivious to the way Florian’s entire world was coming apart. "Leila has been sick for some time, as I’ve mentioned," he said. "A traveling doctor once came through the village and diagnosed it as a sickness with no name. We don’t know what it is, nor how to cure it."

Florian barely stopped himself from recoiling.

’She told me that. Earlier. Every detail checks out.’

His breath grew uneven.

Leila looked at him then, her tired gaze locking onto his. "Chief Augustus said you have news," she murmured. "About my brother... about Levi."

The air in the room thickened.

Florian opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

His body felt stiff, cold. The weight of her expectant, fragile gaze was suffocating.

How could she ask him that? How could she look at him like she had no idea what had already been said between them?

’Is this a trick? Is she playing with me?’

He couldn’t move.

Then—warmth.

A hand against his back, barely there, but firm.

Heinz.

Grounding. Silent.

And then, in an expressionless voice, Heinz spoke:

"Levi has unfortunately passed away."

The reaction was immediate.

Leila gasped, her frail body tensing before her lips parted in a silent breath of disbelief. "W-What?"

Tears welled up, gathering at her lashes before spilling down her sunken cheeks. "No... No, that can’t be..."

She trembled violently, breath coming in weak, broken sobs. Kane’s hands tightened around her shoulders, steadying her as she shook her head, her mouth opening and closing like she wanted to deny it, to reject reality itself.

’What...?’

It was different. So horribly, unbearably different.

Before, she had barely reacted. Had accepted Levi’s death with eerie, empty indifference.

Now—this Leila—was breaking.

"How...?" she whispered through the tears. "How did he—?"

Heinz, steady as ever, continued.

"Levi encountered one of the king’s harem members—Prince Florian—who had been kidnapped near your village last week," he said, his voice smooth, unwavering. "He helped the prince escape. In doing so, he lost his life."

Leila let out a sharp, strangled sound, pressing her hands to her face. Her shoulders shook violently, wracked with grief.

"The prince found out about you," Heinz went on, his tone never shifting, never softening. "But the king insisted on sending us in his stead to offer assistance."

Leila sobbed into her hands.

Florian barely heard her.

His mind was spinning.

’Which one is real? Which one is the lie?’

This moment—this raw grief—felt too real to be false.

But the memory of their previous meeting, the empty village, the eerie darkness, the indifference in her eyes... That had been real, too.

Hadn’t it?

Heinz exhaled softly, barely shifting where he stood. Then, in that same flat, unwavering tone, he said, "We’re sorry you had to find out this way."

The words were empty. Hollow. Nothing but formalities meant to acknowledge grief, not soothe it.

Leila continued to cry, her frail body trembling with the weight of her sobs. The rawness of it, the sheer contrast to the detached woman Florian had spoken to before, made his skin prickle with unease. Her fingers clutched weakly at the blanket draped over her, her body curling inward as if trying to shield herself from reality itself.

’She didn’t cry like this...’

Now she looked as though she had been wasting away for months. As though her grief had hollowed her out from the inside.

Kane, jaw tight, turned to them with a glare. "You should’ve been more careful," he snapped, voice laced with anger. "She’s sick, for gods’ sake! Couldn’t you have told her more gently? Did you really have to just—just drop it on her like that?"

Florian flinched.

Heinz, of course, didn’t react at all. His presence remained a steady, unyielding force—unbothered, unshaken. But Florian could feel the tension beneath his stillness, something unreadable lurking beneath those eyes.

Before Kane could go on, Augustus let out a slow breath. "Enough, Kane."

Kane turned to the old chief, frustration still evident in his expression, but Augustus shook his head.

"They were right not to beat around the bush," the chief said, voice heavy with age and wisdom. "Prolonging the truth would only make it worse."

Kane’s fists clenched at his sides, his breathing shallow. But he said nothing more. "Tch."

With great care, Augustus lowered himself onto his knees beside Leila’s bed. His movements were slow, deliberate, as though his bones ached with every shift. His hand found hers, warm and reassuring, and despite the pain carved into her expression, Leila did not pull away.

"Leila," he murmured, pulling her into a gentle embrace. The old man’s voice was warm, quiet. "We will take care of you. You are not alone in this."

"Chief..." Leila sobbed into his shoulder, frail fingers clutching weakly at the fabric of his tunic. Her entire body shook with grief, barely able to hold itself up. Augustus held her as though she were something fragile—something breakable, already breaking.

Florian just stood there, watching, unable to move.

His heart pounded too hard in his chest, his thoughts a mess of tangled threads he couldn’t unravel.

’Did I just...hallucinate my interactions with her earlier? No, Heinz was also there.’

Everything—the grief, the desperation, the warmth of Augustus’ embrace—it felt real. Too real.

But so had the last time.

His breath hitched. His fingers twitched at his sides, as if struggling to grasp something just out of reach. He felt as if he were standing on the edge of something vast and incomprehensible, the ground beneath his feet crumbling with every second.

Then—a shift.

Warmth.

The faintest pressure against his back.

Heinz.

Florian barely registered it until Heinz leaned down slightly, voice low as he murmured, "Are you alright?"

Florian blinked, the words cutting through the storm in his mind.

For the first time since stepping into the house, he forced himself to look at Heinz. Those sharp eyes regarded him carefully, his face unreadable, but there was something there. A question. A quiet demand for an answer.

Florian’s lips parted. His throat felt dry.

"I..." He swallowed. "I’m fine."

Heinz didn’t look convinced.

And suddenly, Florian was painfully aware of the weight of Heinz’s hand against his back. He could feel the shift of his fingers, the slow, deliberate movement—like he was grounding him.

Florian wanted to ask him to move his hand. To pull away.

But before he could, a knock sounded against the door.

Sharp. Firm.

The sound made his stomach twist.

Kane turned, still scowling. "Who is it?"

A muffled voice answered from the other side. "It’s Bill. I brought food for the guests. And for Leila."

’Food?’