CHAPTER 412: ’INSIDE OF FLORIAN’S MIND.’

"Are you sure about this, Your Majesty?"

Lucius stood beside Heinz, his voice low and unreadable as he watched Lysander perform the final enchantments around Florian’s sleeping form.

A soft glow pulsed gently over the prince’s body, sealing him in a deeper sleep—a sleep even nightmares couldn’t easily break.

Cashew sat by the edge of the bed, clutching Florian’s hand with trembling fingers, his pale blond hair shadowing the tears on his cheeks.

Azure, nestled against the boy’s side, occasionally flicked his tail protectively, eyes locked on Florian.

Heinz allowed it. Cashew had been unusually quiet lately, acting out of sorts—apparently begging to see Florian, even refusing food. Letting him stay was the least Heinz could do.

It had been only a day since his talk with Afton, but the decision came fast. The moment Florian had thrashed in his sleep again—his fourth nightmare that night—Heinz knew he couldn’t afford to wait.

He’d already summoned Lucius and Lancelot that morning.

He needed eyes he could trust.

And if something went wrong... he wanted someone strong enough to stop it.

"Is he really trustworthy?" Lancelot murmured, glancing warily toward Afton, who was now adjusting a ring of runes along the floor near the bed.

"You tell me," Heinz said, voice low, though he directed the question more to Lucius. His crimson eyes didn’t waver. "Is he showing any suspicious signs?"

Lucius was silent for a moment. Watching. Calculating.

Then, finally, "None. But that’s just it... he’s not even nervous, Your Majesty. Not even a flicker of doubt or anxiety. He’s dealing with a king, a prince, two high-ranking individuals and his tone hasn’t shifted once."

’He’s too calm.’ Heinz thought. ’But is that a red flag... or proof that he knows what he’s doing?’

"His confidence is what makes his case compelling," Heinz said, turning to both of them now. His gaze was sharp, unapologetic. "If either of you were given this chance to help Florian... would you take it?"

The question landed like a blade.

Lucius and Lancelot both froze—neither had expected him to say it out loud.

Their eyes widened slightly. Unspoken tension swelled between them.

It wasn’t a secret. Not really. Lucius, always hovering close to Florian, always the first to defend him. Lancelot, with his sharp words but ever-watching eyes.

Lucius said nothing. He didn’t need to. His silence was heavy with restraint.

Lancelot hesitated—only for a breath—before stepping forward and asking the question no one else dared.

"I would," he said, firm but respectful. Then, quieter, "But... we have circumstances, Your Majesty. So I have to ask—why are you doing this?"

Lucius’s head snapped toward him, shocked that Lancelot had the nerve.

’He basically said they liked Florian, and is asking me if I am the same.’

Heinz, however, didn’t scowl. Didn’t raise his voice.

He chuckled.

Just once. A quiet, dry sound.

"I’ve been asking myself the same thing," he said at last, before turning his back to them. That was his answer.

Maybe the only one they’d get.

And somehow, it was enough.

They didn’t press further.

Heinz moved to Florian’s bedside, where Lysander was now standing by with quiet focus, and Afton was setting the last of his materials down. Sigils drawn in fine golden ink shimmered on the floor.

"Is everything set?" Heinz asked, voice calm again.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Afton replied, his tone professional as ever. "One thing: for this spell to resonate properly, you must be in physical proximity to the prince. Ideally, you’ll lie beside him and maintain direct contact—holding his hand will suffice. Is that acceptable?"

Lucius’s voice cut in immediately from behind. "Is that truly necessary?"

Heinz raised a hand, silencing him. "It’s fine."

He walked over to the bed, pausing beside Cashew, who clung tightly to Florian’s arm.

"Cashew," Heinz said gently.

The boy flinched, clearly having anticipated this moment. His arms trembled as he slowly peeled himself away, wiping at his eyes with his sleeve. Azure nuzzled closer, as if trying to comfort him.

"O-Okay..." Cashew whispered. He stood up with Azure in his arms, stepping back with his head bowed. The boy sniffled but didn’t speak another word.

’He’s been... obedient lately,’ Heinz observed, casting a glance at the child. ’Not a single glare. Not even resentment. Just... grief.’

He turned his gaze back to Florian.

The boy lay still, his breathing soft and shallow. Moonlight from the nearby window painted his pale skin silver, highlighting the fragile tremor in his lashes.

Heinz stepped closer, pulling back the blankets just enough and slipped into the bed beside him.

Lucius and Lancelot drew in, standing closer to observe the spell, their eyes locked on Florian—but more than that, on Heinz.

He felt their gazes.

He ignored them.

Heinz slowly lowered his hand, his fingers brushing lightly over Florian’s before gently taking hold of them. Their fingers intertwined—his hand dwarfing the prince’s delicate one.

Florian’s skin was soft, almost fragile in comparison to his own. The contrast felt strange.

It felt intimate.

He looked up at Afton.

"On the count of three," the professor instructed, stepping closer. His voice remained calm, almost detached, as he raised his palm and placed it carefully on Florian’s forehead.

A soft pulse of golden light began to emit from beneath his fingers, growing steadily brighter.

"Please close your eyes when I reach three. Once the spell activates, you’ll feel your consciousness being pulled into His Highness’s mind. There will be no pain, but the sensation may be disorienting."

Heinz nodded, gaze steady.

"You’ll have exactly ten minutes," Afton added, his hand never faltering. "After that, I will extract you, no matter what. Any longer, and your connection may begin to... fray."

Heinz’s brow twitched. "Ten minutes. Are you certain that will be enough?"

"That will depend on both of you," Afton replied honestly. "But it’s all I can offer without endangering either of you. Beyond that point, the spell’s stability becomes unpredictable."

’A time limit... figures. Nothing’s ever simple.’

"Understood," Heinz muttered, his eyes drifting toward the boy beside him again.

Florian looked peaceful, but it was a fragile illusion. His lashes fluttered faintly. A soft crease of distress marred his brow even in sleep.

’What face will you show me in there?’ Heinz wondered. ’Are you going to get mad at me?’

"One," Afton began the countdown.

Heinz turned his gaze to the ceiling, exhaling slowly.

"Two."

"Good luck, Your Majesty," Lucius said quietly from behind.

Cashew’s voice came softer. Broken. "Please... bring His Highness back."

"Three."

Heinz shut his eyes.

And then—

It began.

There was no pain—just a sudden, sickening pull as if his very essence were being dragged downward through water, through air, through something that shouldn’t be crossed. His stomach twisted. The world turned upside-down. His body stayed behind, but his mind—

His mind fell.

’What the—’

There was no ground, no sky. Only motion.

Then, abruptly—silence.

Heinz’s eyes snapped open.

He was standing.

He breathed in sharply and—

Cold. A crisp breeze brushed against his skin.

He heard the gentle rustle of leaves, the soft chirping of unseen birds. There was no ceiling above him anymore—just a vast canopy of deep violet trees, their leaves glowing faintly in the filtered golden light.

Before him stretched a sprawling garden, blooming with purple and green flowers. They swayed gently in the wind, almost as if they were breathing. They were beautiful... hauntingly so.

’This... is Florian’s mind?’ Heinz blinked, stunned by the softness of it. ’I thought it’d be darker. Sadder. But this... this feels like a dream.’

A fountain glistened in the distance, surrounded by spiraling hedges and curved archways made of glass and crystal. Butterflies shimmered in hues of lavender and emerald.

He stepped forward slowly, the grass impossibly soft beneath his boots.

’Where are you, Florian?’ he wondered, glancing around. ’Where are you hiding in all of this?’

But before he could move further—

A voice rang out behind him.

"This is a surprise."