Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight!-Chapter 278: ’Scolded’

Lucius visibly took in a slow, shaky breath. Then another. And another.

Each inhale sounded like it hurt.

His spine straightened with that familiar, mechanical grace—shoulders drawn back, chin lifted—but his eyes...

His eyes betrayed him.

Wide, stunned, and glinting with something raw.

’He’s horrified.’

Florian didn’t need any sixth sense to see it. The always-composed, unreadable Lucius—who’d once stared down assassins without blinking—was falling apart behind his glasses. That perfect mask he wore like a second skin was cracking at the edges, letting something stormy bleed through.

Lucius turned sharply to Heinz. His voice came clipped, formal. Controlled—but not steady.

"What... are you doing in His Highness’s room, Your Majesty?"

Then—he turned.

And looked at Florian.

Really looked.

His gaze dropped—collarbone to chest, to the faint ridges of Florian’s stomach. It lingered. Too long. Too heavy.

Florian squirmed under the weight of it, his throat tightening.

"Your Highness..." Lucius spoke slower this time, hesitant. His eyes narrowed just slightly, like the question already burned in his mouth. "Why are you shirtless?"

’Oh god, here it comes.’

Florian’s eyes darted toward Heinz. Help. Please help. He still didn’t know how far Heinz was planning to go with this story—and whether Lucius was even allowed to know.

Heinz, of course, didn’t flinch. He moved with all the careful grace of a man completely in control, brushing invisible dust from his cuff like this was a dinner party, not a bomb about to explode.

"I came to check on Florian," he said smoothly. "He’d just returned from being fitted by Drizelous."

Lucius reacted like he’d been struck.

His breath hitched, eyes going impossibly wider. His hand jerked, and for a second, it looked like he might drop the plate he was holding.

’Oh,’ Florian realized, ’Lucius didn’t know?’

Of course he didn’t.

Drizelous’s involvement wasn’t public palace knowledge. It hadn’t been announced, whispered about, or even hinted at.

’But...’ Florian flicked his gaze toward Lucius again. ’He’s Heinz’s head butler. Shouldn’t he have known?’

He expected Lucius to be the exception. To know everything.

Apparently not.

Heinz, unfazed, gestured lazily toward the dragon curled innocently at Florian’s side.

"Azure acted out while inside Florian’s clothing," he said with perfect composure, as if he were reciting a weather report. "He burned through the fabric. Hence... the shirtlessness."

’What a great excuse!’

Florian kept still, face neutral, not even allowing a twitch of his brow to give him away. But inside?

He was screaming.

’It’s a lie. It’s such a bad lie. But Heinz just said it like it was the only possible explanation in the world.’

As if summoned by his cue, Azure let out a low, warning growl.

But not at Heinz.

At Lucius.

Lucius visibly flinched. Just a fraction. But enough.

’He’s... playing along?’ Florian blinked, stunned. ’Azure’s intelligence knows no bounds.’

Lucius stepped back. Slow. Controlled. And then lowered his head respectfully.

"...Oh. Understood."

But the tension didn’t break. It lingered—suspended in the air like a drawn bowstring, ready to snap with the slightest wrong movement.

Then Heinz shifted.

Just one step forward.

Quiet. Smooth. Deliberate.

But it was enough to position himself squarely between Lucius and Florian, obstructing the view entirely.

His voice was calm, still steady.

"Lucius. Why did you enter without knocking?"

Florian blinked in confusion.

’Wait, what?’

Lucius froze.

He hadn’t expected that. Neither had Florian. It wasn’t an accusation. Not exactly.

But it cut like one.

"I..." Lucius stumbled, clearly thrown, then defaulted back to his earlier reasoning. "I had seen Cashew assisting the maids. I only meant to deliver some refreshments. Not to intrude."

His voice had regained its usual polish, but Florian caught the sliver of something else.

A crack beneath the surface.

Like glass under pressure.

He stared at Heinz’s back, stunned into silence.

’What is Heinz doing?’

Heinz didn’t move. Didn’t need to.

His words came quiet, low—but every syllable struck with measured force.

"It is not about intruding," he said, tone like steel wrapped in silk. "Danger is lurking around, and we all know Florian is the target."

Then it sharpened.

Cold. Precise.

"Based on Florian’s reaction, you do this a lot."

Florian’s breath hitched.

The air in the room felt like it had thinned.

"He should not be used to anyone coming in and out of his room whenever they wish."

Lucius bowed low, deeper than before. Shame clung to his voice, quiet and earnest.

"Of course, Your Majesty. That was impertinent of me. My apologies."

Heinz hummed softly in response, already turning to leave.

"Have someone add more security and locks to Florian’s room," he said casually, like he was requesting tea. "Make sure only Florian can unlock his door. Not Cashew. Not you. No one enters unless he opens it himself. Understood?"

Florian blinked, startled.

’He’s strengthening my security.’

He rose and gave a small bow as Heinz made his way to the door.

"Of course, Your Majesty," Lucius echoed.

Heinz paused in the doorway, casting one last glance back—eyes lingering on Florian for a beat longer than necessary.

Then he turned and walked out.

Leaving Lucius and Florian in the heavy silence that followed.

Both standing still.

One stunned.

One awkward.

And Florian, staring ahead, could only think one thing:

’I think this is the first time Lucius was ever scolded.’

Lucius looked at him slowly.

Not a glare. Not a sharp edge of suspicion or a flash of judgment.

Just... slow. Deliberate. Unreadable.

Like he was trying to memorize Florian’s expression. Like he was trying to figure out why he felt so off-balance.

Then he inhaled again. Deep. Controlled. As though he were holding something back.

And said nothing.

Without a word, Lucius turned on his heel and walked toward the walk-in closet, the rustle of his coat the only sound he left behind.

Florian’s eyes followed him, every step, his brow pinching as confusion began to stir beneath his skin.’Why isn’t he saying anything? He always says something.’ freeweɓnovēl.coɱ

There was no slam. No pointed sigh. No sharp click of the closet door. Just the quiet hush of fabric shifting, hangers gliding softly along the rail.

Azure, nestled on the bed, perked up with a flick of his tiny tail. His wings fluttered once—twice—before he took off in a smooth, almost lazy arc, gliding toward Florian with a soft chirp.

A second later, the blue butterflies began to appear.

They emerged like a silent breeze, spilling into the room from some unseen crack in the veil—drawn to Florian like gravity was pulling them in.

A soft, involuntary smile touched his lips.

"Hello again," he whispered, reaching up to stroke Azure’s tiny, ridged head.

The little dragon nuzzled his palm affectionately, a low, satisfied purr vibrating from his scaled chest.

’Good boy,’ Florian thought, the warmth settling in his chest. ’At least someone in this room doesn’t radiate the emotional energy of a shattered heirloom.’

Then—

A sound.

The closet door creaked open.

Lucius stepped out. Silent. Composed. His arms full—neatly folded clothing balanced with military precision: a deep blue shirt, a fresh ivory undershirt, and a matching set of pressed trousers.

Florian sat up slightly, lips parting in relief, a smile starting to form.

"Oh, thank you, Luci—"

But he didn’t get to finish.

Lucius moved faster than Florian expected.

Crossing the room with quiet, purposeful steps, he stopped directly in front of him.

Then—gently, almost reverently—he placed one gloved hand on Florian’s shoulder...

And pushed him back down onto the couch.

Firm. But not rough.

Florian’s breath caught in his throat.

He looked up—really looked—and saw Lucius standing over him. Golden eyes steady behind his lenses, expression unreadable. Like a statue carved from stormlight.

"Lucius...?" Florian breathed, voice barely above a whisper.