The memory hit Florian like a tidal wave, and his breath caught in his throat as nausea clawed its way through his stomach. He pressed his fists against his temples, trying to steady his spinning mind.
'How the hell did I forget that?! That scene was horrible!'
In the novel, Florian had been separated from the princesses, left defenseless and vulnerable. The kidnapping arc wasn't just a plot device to showcase his beauty and unique biology; it was one of the most traumatic and degrading moments in the story.
His stomach churned violently at the thought, bile rising to the back of his throat. He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to swallow it back. "I have to stop forgetting that this isn't just some cheesy BL novel," he muttered under his breath, his voice trembling with anger and fear. "I can't let that happen to me."
Absolutely not.
His hands shook as he picked up the quill again, gripping it tightly to keep it steady. He pressed the tip to the parchment with a renewed sense of urgency, scribbling furiously.
Step two: Avoid the kidnapping arc at all costs.
'If I can prevent the harem from getting abducted, maybe I can change the course of the story entirely,' he thought, his mind spinning with possibilities. If he could stop the kidnapping, he'd not only save himself from the trauma and avoid getting the attention of the second male lead, but potentially gain favor from Heinz for protecting the princesses.
Perhaps, if Heinz saw him as a hero, he could even request a safe return to Floramatria—maybe even to his original world—without jeopardizing his or Florian's kingdom.
A spark of hope lit in Florian's chest. "That could work. All I need to do is remember when we're supposed to be—"
He froze mid-sentence at the sound of a soft knock on his door. The quill slipped from his fingers, and he hurriedly shoved the papers into the desk drawer, slamming it shut.
'Cashew's back already? That was quick.'
He had sent Cashew on an errand to fetch the royal tailor for new clothes, as well as to gather information from the castle's gossiping maids. Florian had quickly realized that the palace halls were alive with whispers, and he planned to use them to his advantage.
Thankfully, Cashew hadn't questioned his request.
"Come in," Florian called, turning toward the door. He adjusted his expression, ready to hear Cashew's report.
But when the door creaked open, his heart sank into his stomach. It wasn't Cashew.
It was Lucius.
The stoic man stepped inside, his imposing figure filling the room. His sharp eyes locked onto Florian, who shot up from his chair as if propelled by a spring.
"Lucius," Florian began, struggling to keep his tone calm. "What... are you doing here?"
'We just saw each other a few hours ago, and now you're back? Why?!'
Lucius's expression didn't shift. His gaze was piercing and unreadable as he replied, "Have you already forgotten, Your Highness?"
Florian's stomach twisted. 'Forgotten what? Shit.'
Once again, it was time to lean on his trusty concussion excuse.
"Please remind me," Florian said, placing a hand on his head and grimacing dramatically. "As you know, my mind is still hazy from my fall."
Lucius's gaze didn't waver. He stared at Florian, unblinking, and the intensity of his silence made Florian's pulse quicken. 'What is he thinking? Is he suspicious? I can't tell!'
After what felt like an eternity, Lucius let out a sigh. "It's time for the harem's weekly tea party. I came to remind you, as I received no confirmation of your attendance. Where is Cashew?"
'Tea party?' Florian blinked, caught off guard by the question. "I… sent him on an errand for me."
Lucius tilted his head slightly. "What kind of errand, Your Highness?"
"Uh..." Florian scrambled for an answer. "A fashion-related one?"
The look Lucius gave him was unreadable, yet it still managed to make Florian want to curl into a ball and scream. Earlier, their interaction had been easier to manage since Lucius wasn't staring directly at him. But now, with Lucius's sharp eyes boring into him, Florian felt cornered.
And then it hit him.
'We're in my room. Just the two of us. Alone.'
That realization set off a cacophony of BL warning bells in his head. He had read enough of these stories to know where scenes like this often led, and he wanted no part of it.
"Very well," Lucius said, stepping farther into the room. His calm tone sent a shiver down Florian's spine. "Then I shall assist you in preparing for the tea party."
Florian froze. 'Oh no. No, no, no, no, NO!'
The warning bells in his head were right. This was bad. Very bad.
Florian cleared his throat, summoning every ounce of composure he had left. "I appreciate your concern, Lucius, but I assure you, I can dress and prepare myself perfectly fine."
Lucius raised a brow, his expression unwavering. "It is Concordian custom, Your Highness, that royalty do not dress themselves."
Florian froze, his mind scrambling. 'Bullshit. That is not a Concordian custom. I did most of the worldbuilding for this novel. I wrote those customs! I know every single one of them, and that is not one of them.'
But, of course, he couldn't just blurt that out. Instead, he forced a polite, albeit strained, smile. "That's very considerate, but as the head butler of this palace, it hardly seems appropriate for you to perform such menial tasks. Perhaps you could summon a maid instead."
Lucius's eyes narrowed slightly, the subtle change in expression making Florian's stomach flip. "Menial?" Lucius repeated, his tone calm yet piercing. "You didn't seem to think so when I assisted you before."
Florian's brain screeched to a halt. "W-What?"
"I have helped you dress at least once or twice during your stay," Lucius said, taking a step closer.
Florian's face went crimson as the words sank in. 'Oh no. No, no, no! Damn it, Florian!'
Lucius continued his slow, deliberate advance, his imposing figure making the room feel smaller with every step. "Have you forgotten? Or is your memory still… hazy?"
Florian couldn't even respond. His throat felt tight, his mind frantically trying to piece together an escape plan. And yet, despite his best efforts to look composed, his traitorous face betrayed him, his cheeks heating further with every word.
"I—" Florian stammered, only to lose his train of thought completely as Lucius took another step forward.
"You've also been adamant," Lucius said, his voice calm but with an edge that made Florian shiver, "that you don't want or need any maids."
'FUCK.' Florian internally screamed. 'What do I do? What do I fucking do...he's actually getting closer.'
Lucius was now only inches away, and the proximity made Florian's heart pound. Twice today. Twice in one day, Lucius had been this close.
Florian instinctively backed up, only to feel his lower back bump against the edge of his desk. His pulse quickened as he realized he had nowhere left to go.
Lucius stopped in front of him, his movements slow and calculated. He leaned forward, placing one hand on the desk beside Florian, and then the other. The space between them vanished, and Florian felt utterly trapped.
Lucius's gaze bore down into his, calm but intense, and Florian felt like he was unraveling under the weight of it.
"What are you doing?" Florian demanded, attempting to sound authoritative, but his voice cracked, betraying his nerves.
Lucius didn't answer right away. He stayed there, his piercing yellow eyes studying Florian, his silence heavier than any words he could have spoken.
Florian's thoughts spiraled. 'Did I… miscalculate? Did the original Florian's ridiculous seduction attempts already work? Is Lucius at the point where he's… not holding back anymore?!'
His breath hitched, and he cursed himself for the way his body tensed, pressed against the desk with no room to escape. "Lucius," he tried again, his voice quieter this time, almost pleading.
Lucius remained silent, his gaze unwavering. 'Think, Aden, think...what can I do? How can I get out of this situation?' Florian looks around, avoiding the butler's gaze. 'Cashew, where are you?'
Florian's mind scrambled as Lucius continued to loom over him, his stoic face betraying nothing. The intensity of the moment was suffocating. Every BL trope Florian had ever read screamed at him to do something, but his body refused to cooperate. His brain was a jumbled mess of panic, while his mouth was dry as the desert.
Lucius tilted his head slightly, his piercing gaze boring into Florian's very soul. "You seem tense, Your Highness," he said softly, his voice smooth but unsettling in its calmness. "Is something troubling you?"
Florian's heart pounded in his chest like a war drum. 'Yes, something is troubling me! YOU ARE TROUBLING ME!' he wanted to shout, but instead, he stammered, "N-No, I'm perfectly fine!"
Lucius leaned just a fraction closer, his hands still planted on either side of the desk. "Are you certain? You look… flushed."
Florian swallowed hard, his eyes darting everywhere but at Lucius. 'Why is he so close?! Why does he look like that?! Is he doing this on purpose?!'
His breathing quickened, and he felt his palms growing clammy. He needed to diffuse the situation—fast. His brain searched frantically for a solution, but all that came up was white noise and panic alarms.
Lucius's sharp gaze didn't waver. His voice dropped just slightly, carrying a weight that made Florian shiver. "Your Highness… I must ask. Are you hiding something?"
Florian froze, his pulse thundering in his ears. He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. Words. He needed words. Any words. His brain latched onto the first thought that passed through the chaotic fog.
"I'M SAVING MYSELF FOR MARRIAGE!"