CHAPTER 414: ’FLORIAN’S PAIN.’

Recommend to listen to "My Tears Ricochet" by Taylor Swift.

The past.

Heinz didn’t want to think about it.

But he knew—he had to.

Letting out a quiet, reluctant breath, he gave a small nod. "Alright."

Florian offered a small, wistful smile before lowering himself gracefully into the soft field of flowers. He patted the space across from him. "Sit."

Heinz tilted his head slightly at the gesture.

’He’s... surprisingly playful.’ He hesitated, then sat down opposite him.

’Was Florian ever this silly?’

His mind flashed to the only version of Florian he remembered—the one who cried.

’But that would’ve been my fault.’

The silence between them was thick. Tense. The flowers swayed gently in the nonexistent wind, but neither spoke for a moment. Then—

Florian exhaled deeply.

"Heinz... do you know how much hatred I have for you right now?"

The question struck like a slap. Heinz’s eyes widened slightly. "Flor—"

"Let me speak." Florian cut in, voice firm but not cruel. "You never let me speak back then. You never listened. So this time... you will."

Heinz was stunned.

’Is this really the same Florian?’

He looked the same—sounded the same—but this strength, this clarity... it was new.

Or maybe it wasn’t. ’Maybe this was who he was all along—and I just never gave him the chance to show it.’

He gave a short nod.

Florian looked down, fiddling with a flower stem for a second before meeting Heinz’s gaze again. "I’ll admit it. I pushed you too hard. I clung too tightly. I cried too much, too often. I made you feel smothered."

Heinz stayed still, but his chest ached. He couldn’t look away.

"I came on too strong. I overwhelmed you. But Heinz..." His voice trembled. "I fell for you the moment I saw you. And even though I knew you didn’t love me, I still wanted to stay by your side. I was prepared to love you without being loved in return."

His lips quivered, his voice cracking at the edges. "You remember a little, don’t you? Even just the first night—when you came to my room. When you held me. Told me you loved me."

Heinz’s stomach dropped.

So it’s true...

Those visions—those scattered, fragmented memories—they weren’t dreams. They were real.

"I held onto that night like a lifeline," Florian whispered. "Even when you forgot. Even when you pulled away. I told myself that deep down, you remembered. I couldn’t bring myself to tell you that the words you said... were just from when you were drunk. Because if I did—if you admitted it meant nothing—then I’d have nothing left."

He looked down. Tears slipped quietly down his cheeks.

"I was afraid, Heinz. Afraid that everything I loved was just... one-sided."

Heinz felt something crack inside him.

"I kept waiting for something to change, but still accepted you into my bed." Florian whispered, voice trembling harder now. "I hurt Lucius and Lancelot in the process. I let them think they had a chance with me, when all I wanted—all I ever wanted—was you."

His fists clenched into the fabric of his clothes.

"I just wanted you to fight for me. To want me. To pull me away from them and say you loved me without the need for alcohol."

The pain in his voice was unbearable.

"It was unfair," Florian whispered, lifting his eyes—and for the first time, Heinz truly saw him. Not the broken boy. Not the ghost of the past. But the person who had loved him anyway.

And somehow, that made it worse.

"Even now... even after everything," he said, voice softer now, almost broken. "After the betrayal. After the pain. After e—" he stopped, swallowed, "—everything."

He looked down again, his voice barely audible.

"...I still love you."

Heinz felt the breath leave his lungs. He couldn’t speak.

"But you could never love me back, right?" Florian murmured. "I was a fool to think you would—"

"I did."

The words left his mouth before he could stop them.

Florian’s eyes shot up, his expression frozen in disbelief.

Heinz stared at him. "I did... love you. I don’t know how or why. I didn’t understand it then. I still don’t. But I did."

"...Then why?" Florian asked, voice cracking.

Heinz reached a hand toward him. "Florian—"

"Why did you kill me?!" Florian cried out, wrenching his voice from the deepest part of his chest. "Why did you forget? Why did you keep forgetting?!"

He was trembling now—tears pouring freely, pain laid bare.

"You don’t even remember everything, do you? My last words to you before my death." he accused, his voice laced with grief and bitterness. "Because if you did, you’d be asking more questions."

’His last words?’ Heinz blinked, the weight of it sinking in slowly. ’More questions... what does he mean?’

"You don’t even remember why you had me killed," Florian whispered. "You just know it was because of Hendrix. But was that enough for you to do it? Is that all it took?"

’Why did I have Florian executed?’

The question rang inside Heinz’s skull like a bell, sharp and jarring.

He remembered being furious—blindingly so. He remembered yelling, slamming his fist against the marble walls of the palace, demanding an answer, a reason, a scapegoat. And then... he remembered the word treason.

But why? What had Florian done that could’ve convinced him he was guilty of something so severe?

He hadn’t started a rebellion. He hadn’t betrayed the nation. He hadn’t tried to hurt anyone—at least, not directly.

’Then why? Why did I believe he was involved in what happened with Hendrix?’

Heinz clenched his fists. He never thought about it until now.

’It was none of Florian’s business. It had nothing to do with him. I should have only gone after Hendrix.’

So why hadn’t he?

Was it because Heinz hated Hendrix so deeply that anyone even near him became a target?

Was it because Florian reminded him too much of what he couldn’t control—his own vulnerability, his jealousy, his shame?

He didn’t know.

And that uncertainty was starting to gnaw at him.

"Ha."

The bitter laugh snapped Heinz out of his thoughts.

Florian was smiling again, but there was no joy in it. Only pain. Bitterness. Disappointment.

"You don’t know a thing," Florian said, voice steady but sharp. "Even now, you’re trying to piece it together, but you’re not even close, are you?"

Heinz didn’t respond.

Because Florian was right.

Florian turned then, gaze drifting to the other version of himself—the one Heinz had come to know these past few months. The soft-spoken boy with gentle smiles and guarded glances. The one who no longer cried, no longer clung, no longer begged for love.

The one Heinz found himself slowly drawn to.

"I’d believe you more if you said you loved him," Florian murmured.

Heinz looked up sharply.

"He’s easier to love, isn’t he?" Florian continued, voice barely above a whisper. "Easier to look at. Easier to smile at. He doesn’t burden you with emotions. Doesn’t ask for more than you’re willing to give."

Heinz’s throat tightened as he followed Florian’s gaze. The other Florian sat still, curled beneath the tree, his face still hidden in his arms, silent tears falling without sound. Like he was trying to disappear even in his own mind.

"You must’ve been happy with him," Florian said, softer now. "Because he never cried. But Heinz... did you ever stop to wonder why he never cried?"

He stepped closer to the other Florian, his hand reaching out but stopping just short of touching. As if he was afraid even his own presence might break him.

"He’s much more fragile than he lets on," Florian murmured, his voice soft with something close to mourning. "I pulled him here because... if I hadn’t, I think he would’ve broken. Completely. I thought maybe—just maybe—I could speak to him. Reach him. But it seems I can’t. Not like this."

He looked at the other Florian again, the pain in his gaze quiet but piercing.

"I feel guilty," he whispered. "That he has to live through the pain I thought I left behind. And I think... you feel responsible too, don’t you?"

Heinz tensed, the words hitting like a well-placed dagger.

Florian got him again.

"I put him through all of that," Heinz said quietly, the words heavier than he expected. "All those situations. All that danger."

Florian’s expression didn’t change. "And you didn’t realize what you were doing until it was too late."

He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in.

"Sound familiar?"

It was like being struck.

’It’s happening again,’ Heinz realized. History’s repeating itself.

It was different, but the ending was still the same.

Florian getting hurt.

He dropped his gaze to the grass below, where purple petals had fallen like fragments of guilt.

"...How," Heinz murmured, voice hoarse. "How do I fix everything?"