Florian froze at the second knock, tilting his head in confusion. 'Cashew? No, he usually just comes in. Lucius? No, he wouldn't bother waiting after one knock.' He furrowed his brows, his curiosity piqued. "Come in!" he called out, louder this time.
Silence.
His confusion deepened, a faint unease stirring in his chest. "I said, come in!"
Still no answer.
'That's… not a good sign.' Taking a cautious breath, Florian rose from his seat, the faint echo of his own footsteps against the wooden floor quickening his pulse.
He grasped the doorknob, pausing for a brief moment before opening the door.
Standing on the other side was a maid—one he had never seen before. She looked older than most of the staff, her severe expression and perfectly straight posture exuding authority. Her uniform was impeccably pressed, her gray-streaked hair tied into a flawless bun.
"Good evening, Your Highness," she said, bowing with measured precision. "I am Delilah, the head maid of the palace."
Florian blinked, caught off guard. 'The head maid? Why is she here? Did I do something wrong?' He quickly composed himself, offering a polite nod. "Good evening, Delilah. It's a pleasure to meet you. Is there something you need from me?"
Her sharp gaze didn't waver. "His Majesty, King Heinz, has summoned you to his chambers."
The words hit him like a blow. "I'm sorry… what?" His voice cracked slightly, disbelief etched into every syllable.
"The King has requested your presence in his bedroom, Your Highness," she repeated, her tone neutral but unwavering.
Florian's lips parted, but no words came out at first. 'The king's bedroom? No, that has to be a mistake. Right? There's no way…' His mind reeled as fragments of the novel came rushing back. 'Wait. The head maid—she's the one who always summoned the princesses. That's why Florian never saw her before now. But why me? Why now?'
"Are you… sure about this?" he asked, his voice wavering under the weight of his spiraling thoughts.
"There is no mistake, Your Highness. His Majesty is waiting for you. Please follow me."
His chest tightened, panic creeping in. 'Is it because I've been acting differently? Did that somehow catch his attention? But he barely noticed me before. No, this doesn't make sense. Unless… No. He wouldn't call me for that. Would he?'
Delilah spoke again, her tone as calm as ever. "Your servant, Cashew, and the head butler, Lucius, have been informed. They will ensure your chambers remain undisturbed for the evening."
Florian opened his mouth to protest, to stall for time, but the unreadable look in her eyes told him it was futile. 'So much for Cashew or Lucius saving me. I'm on my own here.'
Resigned, he nodded reluctantly and stepped out into the dimly lit hallway. He followed her, his legs moving mechanically while his thoughts ran wild.
'Maybe it's just a conversation. A reprimand? That's worse. Or… no. What if it's… that? No. It's too soon for him to…' He swallowed hard, trying to suppress the growing dread in his chest.
As they walked, Delilah raised her hand, and a faint glow emanated from the ring on her finger. Florian immediately recognized it as a mana stone—he'd seen one before in Heinz's office.
Before he could ask, the air around them shifted. In the blink of an eye, the corridor transformed, its plain walls replaced with grand, marble-lined halls bathed in warm golden light.
Florian gasped softly. "That's…"
Delilah glanced back at him, her expression unchanging. "A simple magic, Your Highness. It grants access to the royal wing and ensures only authorized individuals can reach His Majesty's chambers. It also allows the King to move quickly within the palace in case of an emergency."
He nodded absently, impressed despite himself. 'So this is real magic… I've never seen it up close before. It's… incredible.'
As they approached the massive obsidian doors of Heinz's chambers, their intricate carvings seemed to shimmer faintly in the light. Florian's steps faltered, his chest tightening further with every inch they closed the distance.
'I hope it's nothing bad. Lucius, Lancelot, even Scarlett—I can handle them. But Heinz? He's a different story entirely.'
They stopped just before the towering doors. Delilah turned to face him, her voice as steady as ever. "His Majesty is currently speaking with someone inside. You may enter once they leave." She bowed slightly. "I shall take my leave now."
"Wait—" Florian reached out instinctively, but before he could finish, she vanished in a flash of light, likely the same magic she'd used earlier.
He stood there, staring at the now-empty space, his hand still half-raised. "…Fuck."
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Florian was waiting. He had been standing outside the grand obsidian doors for nearly twenty minutes, the silence of the hallway broken only by the occasional crackle of torches. Whoever Heinz was speaking to was certainly taking their sweet time.
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, trying to calm the growing knot in his stomach. 'Is this a good sign? Or a bad one? Probably bad. Definitely bad.' His fingers fidgeted at his side as his mind spiraled through endless possibilities.
'I didn't do anything—except maybe the fight with Scarlett. But is that enough for this?' He took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. 'Okay, think. If he's angry, I'll apologize. Profusely. Blame Scarlett even. Yeah, that might work.'
The sharp click of a lock broke his train of thought. The door creaked open, and Florian instinctively straightened as a figure stepped out.
"I'll see what I can do, Your Majesty—Oh."
'Oh.'
It was Lancelot.
"Your Highness," Lancelot said, his tone laced with confusion. His sharp eyes narrowed. "How… did you get here?"
Before Florian could answer, Lancelot's expression shifted to suspicion. "Never mind that. You shouldn't be here."
"Excuse me?" Florian's initial nerves evaporated, replaced by irritation.
Lancelot stepped forward, closing the door to Heinz's chamber firmly behind him. Without hesitation, he grabbed Florian's arm, his grip surprisingly gentle but insistent. "If His Majesty sees you loitering here, you'll get yourself killed. Do you have a death wish, or are you simply this desperate for attention?"
"Excuse me?" Florian repeated, his tone sharp as he yanked his arm free. He glared at Lancelot. "Sir Lancelot, has anyone ever told you that you have an incredible talent for being irritating?"
"Me? Irritating?" Lancelot scoffed, his brow furrowing. "Your Highness, I'm trying to save your life from doing something recklessly idiotic—"
"Florian."
The single word, spoken with unmistakable authority, cut through the air like a blade.
Both Florian and Lancelot froze, their heads turning in unison toward the source. Heinz stood in the open doorway, his piercing gaze locked on them.
Lancelot was the first to recover, bowing slightly as he addressed the king. "Your Majesty, I apologize. I don't know how he managed to get here, but I was in the process of ensuring—"
"There's no need for concern, Lancelot," Heinz interrupted, his tone calm yet commanding. "I summoned him."
Lancelot blinked. "Pardon?"
"I summoned him," Heinz repeated, his gaze unwavering. "You may leave now. Florian, come inside."
Lancelot's mouth opened slightly, as if to protest, but no words came out. His expression was a perfect mixture of shock and disbelief—almost identical to the one he had worn moments ago upon leaving Heinz's chambers.
Florian smirked, savoring the rare moment of one-upping Lancelot. "Goodbye, Sir Lancelot," he said smoothly, turning toward Heinz with a confident stride.
As he crossed the threshold into the king's chambers, he thought to himself, 'Take that, you arrogant bastard. Two points for me, and none for you.'