"Your Majesty, my king... please, just once."
Florian's voice rang out, trembling with desperation as he ran after Heinz. The king did not so much as glance in his direction. His long, determined strides carried him forward, his expression cold and impassive.
Trailing a few steps behind, Cashew's worried gaze darted between his master and the unyielding figure of the king. The boy's small hands fidgeted nervously, his pain evident as he struggled to think of a way to help. "Your Highness, maybe we should—"
"Please grant me a private audience," Florian pressed on, his voice cracking. Tears brimmed in his eyes, but he refused to stop. He couldn't stop. "The ladies, the princesses—they all got their turn! Please, Your Majesty!"
Heinz gave no sign of hearing him, his stride unbroken. Florian's words hung in the air, unanswered, as if they had never been spoken.
'Why aren't you looking at me?'
Florian's chest tightened as the silence stretched on, suffocating him.
"P-Prince Florian, you must not bother the king," one of the king's aides interjected, his tone strained as he hurried to keep up. "His Majesty has important matters to attend to."
But Florian ignored him entirely.
'Do you dislike me that much?'
"Please, Your Majesty..." Florian's voice faltered, thick with emotion. He stumbled slightly, his legs heavy with the weight of rejection. "I-I just want... I..."
Tears spilled freely down his cheeks now. He couldn't stop them, no matter how much he hated how pathetic it made him feel.
'Why can't you see me? Why am I not enough?'
His cries went unanswered, Heinz's back an unwavering wall of indifference. Florian's heart twisted painfully in his chest, each step forward feeling more and more futile.
"Say something, Your Majesty!" Florian cried, his voice rising in anguish. "Anything! Please... look at me... look at me!"
"What the fuck," Florian mumbled under his breath, his voice barely audible. His heart was still racing, his thoughts tangled in disbelief. 'Was that... Florian's memories?'
What he had just experienced—it was only for a fleeting moment, but it felt vivid, raw, and all too real. It wasn't a stray thought or a wild imagination. No, those weren't his memories.
They were Florian's.
But how? And why now?
Florian frowned, his hand instinctively clutching at his chest as if to steady the strange ache that lingered there. He had seen Heinz earlier today, and yet, nothing like this had happened. There had been no sudden flash of memories, no strange emotions clawing at his heart then.
What had changed?
Before he could make sense of it, a cold, commanding voice sliced through the heavy air like a blade.
"What are you doing here?"
Florian flinched at the sound, his breath catching in his throat. Slowly, his gaze lifted to meet the source of the voice—the king.
Heinz stood before him, towering and imposing, his crimson eyes glinting with a sharp, icy intensity that made Florian's blood run cold. The king's expression was unreadable, yet his presence alone felt oppressive, like a storm about to break.
Florian's chest tightened, the lingering ache from the memory twisting into something sharper, more visceral. Fear.
Pure, primal fear coursed through him, freezing him in place.
Heinz's gaze bore into him, heavy and unyielding, as though he could see every thought Florian was trying to hide. Florian's mind screamed at him to move, to say something, to do anything, but his body refused to cooperate.
His breath hitched, the silence stretching unbearably between them.
'Oh, shit.'
"Y-Your Majesty..." Florian stammered, bowing his head deeply, unwilling to meet Heinz's piercing gaze. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Cashew, also bowing, his small frame trembling like a leaf in the wind.
"I apologize for... bumping into you. I-I was lost in thought—"
"Answer my question," Heinz interrupted, his tone sharp and commanding. "What are you doing here?"
The weight of Heinz's voice nearly made Florian's knees buckle. He felt an overwhelming urge to cry, a confusing reaction considering he'd already faced Heinz earlier in the day—and Heinz had even pulled his hair then.
'This isn't me,' Florian realized. These weren't his emotions.
Much like the memory that had flashed through his mind earlier, this was Florian's body reacting instinctively, a visceral response born of fear and humiliation.
"Speak," Heinz demanded again, his voice a whip cracking through the air.
Florian took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay composed. Without raising his head, he answered, "I came from the garden and decided to look around, Your Majesty."
There was a pause, one so heavy it felt like the air had been sucked from the corridor.
"Came from the garden..." Heinz repeated slowly, his tone low and deliberate. Then, without warning, Florian felt himself yanked upward by his collar.
Both Florian and Cashew gasped, the latter taking a shaky step forward. Florian, acting on instinct and the faint control he had over his body, raised a hand to stop Cashew.
"Y-Your Highness—" Cashew began, his voice laced with panic.
"Did you attend the tea party?" Heinz asked, his grip tightening.
Florian swallowed hard, refusing to meet Heinz's gaze. "I... did, Your Majesty."
"Why?"
Florian's mind reeled. 'What the fuck does he mean why? His butler was the one who made me attend!'
But of course, he couldn't say that.
"I just... I just figured since I was part of the harem, I would be allowed to attend. But I have already been told that it was only for the princesses, so I apologize again for my insolence."
His voice shook, and despite his best efforts to maintain composure, his body betrayed him. He trembled, his heart pounding painfully in his chest.
'Damn it. I hate this. I fucking hate this.'
Heinz said nothing, the silence stretching unbearably between them.
Florian stayed still, his mind racing with worst-case scenarios. Was Heinz going to kill him right here and now? As much as he wanted to be angry at the king's treatment, he couldn't ignore the weight of the memory he'd seen earlier.
Florian—the original Florian—had spent every waking moment chasing after Heinz's attention. He didn't need the memory to know that; the novel had made it painfully clear.
But now... Florian felt it. He understood, however reluctantly, how the original Florian had suffered.
Heinz's frustrated sigh broke the tension. He threw Florian back to the ground with a force that made Cashew squeak in alarm. The boy rushed to his side, his hands hovering nervously as Florian groaned in pain.
'Fuck,' Florian thought bitterly, rubbing his sore shoulder.
"Don't ever go near the princesses again," Heinz commanded, his tone final as he turned to leave.
Florian blinked, his body acting before his brain could catch up. "Huh?" he blurted out, his voice carrying far more defiance than he intended. "Why shouldn't I?"
Cashew's eyes widened in horror, and Heinz stopped mid-step. The atmosphere in the corridor grew impossibly colder.
"Your Highness, what are you doing?" Cashew whispered urgently, tugging lightly at Florian's sleeve.
'I don't know,' Florian thought, his own boldness shocking him. But something deep inside had shifted. The fear and pain he'd felt moments ago had been replaced by a simmering anger.
"Why shouldn't I go near the princesses, Your Majesty?" Florian repeated, his voice steady now, even as his heart threatened to burst out of his chest.
'Shut up, Aden. Shut the fuck up!'
Heinz turned slowly, his crimson eyes burning with fury. The icy indifference from earlier had melted into something far more dangerous.
"Hah," Heinz scoffed, his voice low and mocking. "You must have hit your head really hard if you're suddenly speaking to me like this, Florian."
For the first time, Florian looked up, locking eyes with the king. The sheer rage in Heinz's gaze was enough to make his blood run cold, but Florian's body refused to cower.
Heinz's lip curled, a sneer forming as he took a step closer.
Florian's heart pounded violently against his ribs. 'I'm fucked.'