Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight!-Chapter 314: ’All Eyes On Florian’

Florian was in a daze, his breath caught in his throat as he looked at Alexandria.

She sat frozen, eyes wide and glistening. Her trembling fingers clutched at the fabric of her tea-soaked dress as if trying to stop the spread of the stain through sheer will. Her lips quivered, the corners threatening to fall. She was on the verge of tears—whether from the heat, the shock, or the overwhelming humiliation, Florian couldn’t tell.

But he knew one thing.

He’d done this. Even if it was an accident.

’Gods above, how did it all go wrong so fast?’

Delilah had already rushed to Alexandria’s side, dabbing at the front of her gown with a silk cloth that did absolutely nothing.

"A-Alexandria, I’m so sorry," Florian blurted, stepping forward with his hand half-raised in a desperate attempt to help—do something, fix something—but Delilah swiftly stepped between them, extending a hand like a barrier.

"Don’t come any closer," she said, her voice cold and cutting. "How could you do this, Your Highness?"

’What?’

Florian blinked at her, stunned, recoiling as though slapped.

"Excuse me? I-I didn’t do it on purpose!" he said, flustered, glancing around. His gaze caught on the other princesses watching from their seats—some with curiosity, others with veiled judgment. The dukes and their children were no better.

Alaric had a smirk curling at his lips. Alexandrius, predictably, looked delighted.

Florian’s stomach churned.

Elara’s expression was unreadable—her brows drawn tight in concern, but Florian wasn’t sure for whom. Was it Alexandria? Or him?

Cedric and Roland looked completely disinterested, almost bored. As if it were just another tiresome mishap at a long-winded event.

But it was Scarlett’s reaction that confused him.

She sat at the far end of the princesses’ line, hands clasped neatly in her lap, but her bright yellow eyes were narrowed—sharp, analyzing. Judging.

Delilah turned back toward him, her voice rising with righteous indignation.

"You’re saying you were so careless that you didn’t even see Princess Alexandria was drinking before you deliberately stood up and threw your hands around?" Her tone twisted the situation, drawing gasps from a few nobles nearby. "You should be thankful the tea wasn’t hot."

She gave a bitter scoff, crossing her arms. "My, and you do this in front of—"

"Delilah."

The sharpness of Heinz’s voice sliced clean through the room.

Both Delilah and Florian flinched. Even the harpists, who had finally resumed their music, abruptly stopped.

"Y-Your Majesty," Delilah stammered, lowering her head.

"Take Alexandria away," Heinz said, voice devoid of warmth. He didn’t ask if Alexandria was alright. He didn’t rush to comfort her. His eyes stayed on the room, on the tension.

On Florian.

Delilah hesitated. "But what about Prince Florian? Your Majesty, he—"

"I was looking at Florian before and during the incident," Heinz interrupted, gaze icy and voice unwavering. "He didn’t know. If anything, it was Alexandria’s fault for raising her cup prematurely, not looking at Florian who was about to stand."

Gasps rippled. Shocked murmurs followed. Delilah looked stricken.

Alexandria, cheeks flushed from embarrassment and eyes still glassy, quickly shook her head. "T-That’s right... Lady Delilah, Prince Florian didn’t mean it. I just... need a change of clothes."

Florian stepped forward again, softer this time. "I’m really sorry, Alexandria. Truly."

She didn’t look at him. Her voice was quiet, distant.

"It’s fine, Prince Florian. I just hope to be able to return soon."

Delilah helped her to her feet, and without another word—or another glance at Florian—guided her out of the hall. Their footsteps echoed, until the grand doors closed behind them with a final, resounding thud.

And then Florian was left, standing alone. Shame pooling in his chest like ice water.

’I’m glad her tea wasn’t hot,’ he thought, finally sitting back down and staring at his own cup—still steaming. ’Imagine if it had been...’

He lowered his gaze, refusing to meet the eyes that were surely still watching him.

Then came the voice he dreaded.

"Well," Alexandrius drawled, his voice far too smug, "that was entertaining."

"Father..." Alucard’s voice followed, a soft scolding under his breath. But the damage had been done.

Florian shut his eyes tightly.

Heinz, ever the composed monarch, stood once again. His voice was lighter this time, attempting to shift the air. "That matter is done. I apologize for that scene, but as the saying goes—no event is perfect. Something wrong is bound to happen."

It was out of character. Heinz didn’t apologize often. He didn’t smooth things over. But this time, he tried.

And unexpectedly, Scarlett gave a short laugh. It was elegant, dry, but not mocking.

"Right. It was quite something, Your Majesty."

Then came the chorus from the other princesses.

"Yes."

"Indeed."

Soft laughter followed. Gentle enough to not be cruel—but Florian could feel the pity underneath it.

And that made it worse.

’Two mistakes,’ he thought bitterly. ’First Alexandrius. Now Alexandria. Heinz covered for me both times...’

He looked up, his eyes finding the king across the table.

Of course, Heinz was already looking at him. Steady. Knowing.

Florian felt a knot tighten in his throat. For all the annoyance Heinz gave him—for all the teasing and games—he couldn’t deny this: when it mattered, Heinz always caught him before he fell too far.

"...Thank you, Your Majesty," Florian whispered.

Heinz’s eyes widened slightly, just for a moment. Then his lips curled into a slow, unmistakable smirk.

’Why is he smirking?’ Florian thought, brows twitching subtly as he tried to make sense of the expression Heinz wore. It was suspicious—undeniably so—but then again, when was Heinz not suspicious?

Even now, as Heinz leisurely sipped his tea with that insufferable, unreadable curve of his lips, Florian couldn’t bring himself to feel annoyed.

No... not this time.

Because right now, that smile—whatever its reason—meant Heinz had stood up for him. Again.

Heinz could’ve easily let him take the blame. Twice. First with Alexandrius, then with Alexandria. Both accidents, both embarrassments. The kind that would have nobles whispering behind fans and sleeves for weeks. The kind that could soil a prince’s image in one afternoon.

But Heinz didn’t.

He covered for him. Protected him. Deflected the damage and took the weight onto himself.

’God. It’s like the universe is trying to get Heinz mad at me,’ Florian mused dryly, trying to suppress the knot tightening in his stomach. ’But he didn’t bite. He never bites when it actually matters...’

His fingers curled slightly around his teacup. The warmth of it grounded him.

"Well then," Duke Cedric’s voice rang through the silence that had settled, his tone far too casual. "Now that the whole fiasco is done, how about some conversation, no?"

Both of his twins, Nividea and Nevideus, turned to look at him in sync—expressions blank, but alert. Florian noticed the way Cedric’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. There was a flicker there. A glint that made Florian’s stomach twist with unease.

It was subtle—but dangerous.

He glanced toward Elara instinctively, the only other noble here who didn’t make him feel like prey at a wolf’s dinner table. But her expression was unreadable.

’What is he planning to say?’

"Of course," Heinz replied smoothly, lifting his cup. His tone was unbothered, but his eyes had sharpened. Just a little.

Cedric clasped his hands together and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. His tone turned warm, bordering on affectionate. "I must say, I’m truly glad to finally meet the representative for tomorrow."

Florian straightened, blinking.

Cedric turned his attention directly to him. "Prince Florian, I’ve read your proposal," he continued. "And the moment I finished, I knew I wanted to hear the rest. It’s rare for a royal—especially a prince—to take genuine interest in the suffering villages."

His tone was smooth as velvet, flattering in all the right ways. His chin came to rest against his interlaced fingers as though this were an intimate conversation between two confidants rather than a public gathering.

Nividea nodded, smiling gently. "Right. My father also let me read it! I thought it was thoughtful, Prince Florian."

Florian returned her smile. "I’m glad you think so, Duke Cedric. That means a lot."

The warmth was genuine, but his gut churned. He could feel it—the shift in the room.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the tight set of Alaric’s jaw, and Alexandrius swirling his wine a little too aggressively. They weren’t pleased by Cedric’s praise. It wasn’t just praise—it was an endorsement. One given before Florian had even presented.

’He’s setting me up for something,’ Florian realized. ’There’s a catch. There’s always a catch.’

Cedric smiled wider, a touch too satisfied with himself. "I’m especially looking forward to tomorrow’s presentation, considering the state of the villages in my dukedom."

And then—he dropped it.

"In fact," he said lightly, though his words carried weight, "they’ve been suffering for years now. I’ve asked for assistance countless times, but unfortunately, I could do nothing without His Majesty’s approval."

He paused to sip his tea. The silence was growing thick.

"Which, tragically, was never granted," Cedric added, still smiling. "Just a week ago, I came across another village that had been wiped out. A mysterious sickness. No survivors."

’Oh, it’s not me he’s setting up.’

The clink of porcelain on saucer rang louder than it should have.

Everyone froze.

The air became heavier. The weight of Cedric’s words settled over the table like storm clouds rolling in from a distance.

Florian felt his heart thud harder in his chest.

’I knew it,’ he thought bitterly. ’I knew Cedric was off when it came to Heinz. He was too polite, too soft-spoken... but only when it came to me. That wasn’t kindness. It was calculation.’

Now, slowly, deliberately, all eyes turned.

Not to Cedric.

But to Heinz.