Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight!-Chapter 294: ’WHAT? WHAT? WHAT?’

What?

What?

What?

WHAT? WHAT? WHAT?!

WHAT THE FUCK?!

"Y-Your Majesty, that is not a good joke," Florian said, his voice cracking under the weight of disbelief. His body trembled visibly, a mixture of shock, confusion, and something dangerously close to fear tightening every muscle.

Azure, perched on his shoulder, chirped softly in concern, its tiny claws digging gently into his jacket as Florian took a shaky step closer to the throne. Heinz, in contrast, sat regal and composed, fingers elegantly resting on the carved armrest, an amused gleam in his eyes like a wolf watching its prey fumble toward a trap.

That bastard.

"I am not joking," Heinz said coolly, toying with a strand of his long silver hair, twisting it with slow precision between two fingers. "This isn’t something I’m taking lightly."

He lifted his gaze, sharp and unwavering.

"Florian, despite being male, you possess the rare ability to bear children. That alone makes you eligible to produce an heir. And that—" he leaned forward slightly, as if sharing a secret with the room, "—makes you valuable."

’Ha. Valuable? If so, why did you push the original Florian away?’

Florian’s stomach twisted. His legs felt like jelly. "B-But... your majesty wasn’t interested in me before," he whispered, his tone almost pleading, eyes wide and uncertain.

’I really don’t understand. Why is he doing this?! Is this part of his plan? Or is he just toying with me for fun?!’ Florian bit down on his bottom lip, forcing himself not to glance at the sea of stunned expressions around him.

Heinz exhaled through his nose, unbothered. "Because I believed you wouldn’t be able to contribute as queen. Let’s be honest—every one of the princesses here has been groomed and trained for the role their entire lives. You, Florian, are a male from a foreign matriarchal territory, and the youngest of your family. You received little to no formal education on ruling a kingdom. You were... an afterthought."

He didn’t even flinch when he said it. Like it was nothing.

’Was that really it? That was the reason he pushed Florian back then?’ Florian’s heart pounded harder. ’No... back then it was because Heinz wasn’t even interested in men. He made that perfectly clear.’

But Heinz was still not interested in men.

So what the fuck had changed?

"But... Your Majesty," Bridget interjected suddenly, ever composed, her intelligence cutting through the haze like ice water, "if you acknowledged him and made him eligible due to his contributions and the fact that he’ll represent you at the summit... doesn’t that already place him at an unfair advantage?"

The room turned toward her.

Bridget’s voice remained calm but firm. "Not only that, he was the one who helped assess the other candidates. That means he knows exactly what traits you’re looking for. Isn’t that essentially handing him the crown?"

Mira stepped forward as well, arms crossed. "I agree. Isn’t this already an answer? You want him to be queen. That’s what this is."

Then came another voice—gentler, but no less piercing. "I... I also agree, Your Majesty," Alexandria said, voice quiet but trembling slightly with something Florian didn’t dare name.

Florian’s breath caught.

’Alexandria... I hope she doesn’t misunderstand. We were finally becoming friends... I don’t want to lose that. I never wanted this.’ His chest ached as he stared at the floor, afraid of the looks he was surely receiving now.

But then—something even more surprising.

"I want to hear this out," came Scarlett’s voice, clear and calm, yet tinged with quiet purpose. "There must be a reason His Majesty announced this. I believe we should listen further."

Florian’s head snapped up.

’Scarlett? Of all people?’ She’d never once hidden her disdain for her competitors or its politics. But then again, he wanted to leave, to return to her homeland and never look back.

Maybe that was it.

’She probably thinks once Heinz names a queen, the rest of them will be dismissed and allowed to return home...’ Still, to hear her speak in defense of him—even a little—was jarring.

Heinz smiled, ever the strategist. "Thank you, Scarlett."

He stood then, graceful as ever, and addressed the room. "To keep things fair..." He gestured broadly to the group of stunned princesses. "Each of you will come up with a test for Florian during the summit. A task that will help you decide whether or not he deserves to be eligible. Like how he tested all of you."

A hush fell over the chamber.

"You will each vote afterward. Decide for yourselves whether he should be a candidate."

Florian’s breath hitched.

So it wasn’t decided after all. His eligibility would be in their hands.

’That’s... that’s fine, right? Of course they won’t want me as queen. They’ve never seen me as competition anyway... right?’

"But," Heinz added, his voice darkening just slightly, his gaze razor-sharp, "you must be fair. While Florian has indeed proven himself in some ways, he still lacks the formal education and experience. If you think yourselves unprepared, he is equally lacking. From where I stand... you are all still equals."

He crossed his arms, his expression unreadable but undeniably commanding.

"This will also test your integrity," he said quietly. "Each of you."

Florian’s eyes widened. His final realization.

’So that’s what this is? This isn’t even a test for me... it’s still a test for them?’

Realization crashed over him like a wave.

’Heinz wants to see if they’ll play fair—or if they’ll sabotage me. And if they do, it’ll say more about them than it ever could about me. He’s fanning the rumors. The throne room appearances. He wants them to see me as a threat.’

Florian stepped back, his hand flying to his mouth. His breathing quickened. The pieces were clicking into place, and the picture they formed was terrifying.

’Heinz is so fucking scary...’

The king glanced over at him then, catching his eye—and the smirk that curved across his face was smug, knowing... and dangerous.

Then he turned back to the princesses, perfectly at ease.

Heinz let the silence stretch, unbothered by the weight it pressed into the room. His eyes slowly swept across the assembled princesses, each one still frozen in place—stiff-backed, expressionless, breath caught in their throats. The air itself was thick, heavy with the scent of tension, perfume, and politics.

Then, with maddening calm, he asked, "Do you all agree to this arrangement?"

The words echoed like a bell tolling at the end of something sacred.

A few of the princesses exchanged glances—sideways, uncertain, searching each other’s faces for signs of resistance or agreement. But no one dared speak first. No one wanted to be the fool who refused the king.

Then, slowly, one by one, they began to nod.

Reluctantly.

As if the nods had been wrenched from them.

Bridget’s fingers tightened around the folds of her dress. Mira exhaled through her nose, jaw clenched. Alexandria kept her head down. Scarlett’s gaze lingered on Heinz for just a moment longer than the others, but even she finally gave the smallest dip of her head.

Heinz gave a pleased hum, the sound as smooth and satisfied as a cat who’d just cornered a mouse.

"Excellent," he murmured, like a teacher praising obedient students.

Then, with unnerving swiftness, his gaze snapped to Florian.

Sharp. Calculated. Unrelenting.

"And you?" Heinz asked. "Do you agree to undergo the test the princesses will conduct?"

Florian stiffened where he stood.

His breath hitched.

’Do I have a choice?’

As if summoned by the thought itself, Heinz gave the slightest shake of his head.

So small, so subtle—no one else would’ve noticed it. But Florian did.

He saw it. And worse—he felt it.

A phantom pressure against his chest, like the hand of something unseen pushing down on his heart.

’What the fuck—did he just... answer me?’

He swallowed, the taste of fear suddenly bitter on his tongue. The idea that Heinz had heard what was supposed to be a private thought—his private thought—left Florian cold.

And yet... he couldn’t say no. Not here. Not now. Not in front of all of them.

Not when Heinz’s eyes were watching his every breath.

Florian straightened—not with confidence, but with barely stitched-together composure. Just enough to lift his chin and force out the words.

"Yes. I agree, Your Majesty."

Heinz’s smile deepened by a fraction. Barely noticeable, but no less triumphant.

"Wonderful."

Then he turned, addressing the entire room with renewed authority. His voice wrapped itself around every ear, every nerve, commanding attention like the crack of a whip.

"You will all be dismissed now. Use this time to convene and decide on Florian’s trial. Consider what you wish to learn from him. I will meet with you again tomorrow morning to hear your plan."

His tone shifted—subtle steel beneath velvet.

"Keep in mind, this will take place during the Sovereign Summit. You must design something that will not interfere with state matters. Understood?"

A soft chorus of responses followed. Muted. Mechanical.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Heinz gave a single nod, then called out, "Delilah."

The royal advisor stepped forward immediately, all grace and quiet rage wrapped in emerald robes. Her expression was unreadable, but her posture was rigid.

"You are to provide the princesses with anything they require to conduct their test. And should you wish to offer your own insights, you may."

Delilah placed a hand to her chest, bowed low. "Of course, Your Majesty."

Then, without turning, Heinz spoke again. "As for Lucius..."

He didn’t need to look. The weight of his words alone pinned the butler-knight in place.

"...he will oversee the Sovereign Summit itself. Once the trial is finalized, you may inform him of the plan."

Lucius bowed stiffly. "Understood."

But Florian caught the barely-contained flicker of irritation in his eyes.

The room had reached its tipping point—balanced on the edge of something volatile.

And then Heinz said, with finality, "You are all dismissed."

A flurry of motion followed. Silk dresses brushed past marble columns. Heels clicked like whispers of war across the stone floor. The heavy obsidian doors loomed open, casting long shadows as the princesses filed out one by one.

Florian didn’t move.

Couldn’t move.

He stood frozen in place, unable to tear himself from the whirlwind of thoughts spinning in his head.

’So...that happened.’

As the last of the princesses passed, Florian caught fleeting glimpses of their expressions—and not a single one gave him comfort.

Bridget’s calculating stare lingered a beat too long.

Mira’s usual fire was a barely-contained flicker beneath pursed lips.

Scarlett’s steps were slow, but her face unreadable.

Alexandria looked like she wanted to say something but couldn’t bring herself to.

Athena didn’t even glance at him—eyes locked on the floor, as though the very sight of him burned.

Lucius passed in silence, face a mask of careful neutrality. But Florian knew better.

He saw the flicker of disapproval in the way his lips pressed thin.

And Delilah—gods above, Delilah’s fury was palpable. Her glare was a brand. If her eyes could kill, Florian would’ve turned to ash where he stood.

Then the doors closed behind them.

Boom.

And silence claimed the throne room.

Only Heinz and Florian remained.

Azure, blissfully unaware of the tension, was curled up on Florian’s shoulder, tiny wings twitching in sleep.

Florian, meanwhile, stood rooted to the floor. Hands clenched at his sides. His mind was a blur of thoughts, sharp and spiraling.

Then, finally, unable to hold it back any longer, he turned to the king.

His voice broke with emotion—sharp, accusing, and confused.

"What was that, Your Majesty?!"