CHAPTER 423: ‘POST-NIGHT CLARITY.’

"I’m... pregnant?"

Florian’s voice is barely above a whisper, his eyes wide with disbelief. Lysander looks at him, brows furrowing in concern.

"It seems so, Your Highness," he says carefully. "Do you, perhaps, know who the father is? I’m aware of your... relationships with Lord Lucius and Lord Lancelot, but—"

"No. It’s not them." Florian replies, lowering his gaze to his abdomen. His hand drifts down, resting gently over it.

He had shared his bed with Lucius and Lancelot, yes—but never recklessly. He’d always been careful. He never let either finish inside him.

There was only ever one man he allowed that kind of vulnerability with.

"This..."

He should be happy. Shouldn’t he?

Then why did his heart feel like it was caving in?

Lysander lets out a quiet sigh. "Whoever the father is, it’s not my place to pry. But please... you must tell him. And eventually, you’ll need to inform His Majesty. Though..." He hesitates. "I doubt it would trouble him too much. You’re still part of his harem, after all."

But it would trouble Heinz.

Because Heinz was definitely the father.

"Please..." Florian whispers, voice trembling. "Please don’t tell anyone. Not His Majesty, not Lucius, not Lancelot. No one."

Lysander regards him for a long moment. Then, slowly, he bows his head.

"Of course, Your Highness. I may serve as royal physician, but I am still a doctor. Your secret is safe with me."

He stands, hesitates, then places a tentative hand on Florian’s shoulder.

"You have my word."

Florian’s eyes snapped open.

’Fuck.’

His hand flew to his stomach, a reaction born not from instinct, but from the lingering weight of a dream—no, not a dream. A memory.

The original Florian’s yet again.

’He... was pregnant before he died?’ The thought hit him again like a bolt of ice. It hadn’t sunk in the first time he found out because he was under massive stress, but that detail had never been in the novel. Not once.

Why was it in the memories of the first life?

Something really wasn’t right from the moment he saw a drunken Heinz and the original Florian having intercourse.

Things hadn’t been aligning from the start, but this—this made it clear. The novel and the original life weren’t perfectly matched.

There were inconsistencies, missing pieces. It was like the story had been redacted, rewritten to hide the truth.

But why?

Florian didn’t know the answer. But what he did know was that he had to figure it out.

His body felt better now, clearer. He remembered everything that had happened since. The betrayal. Alexandria. The assault. Waking up again.

And then—

Oh.

Oh no.

That’s why everything suddenly felt so... heavy.

Last night came crashing back into his mind in vivid fragments—heat, breathless moans, Heinz’s touch, the way he—

Florian’s head whipped to the side, eyes wide as panic surged in his chest.

Heinz lay next to him, still fast asleep, one strong arm wrapped securely around Florian’s waist.

Florian paled.

"Holy—" he whispered under his breath, clamping his mouth shut before the rest could escape.

Florian tried to move—just a little—but the moment he shifted, a sharp ache bloomed deep in his hips and lower back. The soreness was immediate. Undeniable.

’Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god—’

How had he forgotten? Even for a second?

He froze completely, biting down hard on his bottom lip. He didn’t know what to do. What could

he do?

His thoughts were spinning, his face flushing a deep red as he turned to glance at Heinz—who was still asleep.

Peacefully, like he hadn’t just rearranged Florian’s entire life.

’This... this is worse than the aphrodisiac night, and Heinz’s drunken night!’

Because this time—this time—they were both sober.

And he had asked for it.

He had begged for it.

’Fuck. Fuck. What did I do? What the hell did I do?!’ Florian screamed internally, trying not to actually scream in real life.

He’d been so overwhelmed by the memory of being violated, by the phantom touches and sickening fear—and then Heinz had held him, kissed him, and touched him like he was something precious.

The pleasure had swallowed him whole. He let it.

He liked it.

He—a supposedly straight man—had practically melted from being touched by another man.

On the receiving end.

And not just any man.

Heinz.

Heinz. Motherfucking. Obsidian.

’AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHH!!!’ Florian shrieked in his head, his whole body practically vibrating with the force of his embarrassment.

He wanted to roll off the bed and onto the floor, let it swallow him whole. Or throw himself out the nearest palace window.

But the throbbing between his legs and the soreness in his muscles told him he wasn’t getting far anyway.

He had no idea what Heinz would say when he woke up.

Would he regret it?

Was he going to pretend nothing happened—?

Or worse... would he go full tyrant and have Florian executed for seducing the king in his sleep-deprived emotional spiral?

’I wanna die. I want to actually just curl up and die. Right now. Please. Any god, if you’re listening, strike me down—’

"...How long are you planning to keep staring at me, Florian?"

Florian froze like a statue.

No.

Heinz just spoke.

Slowly, like in a horror movie, Florian turned his head. "Y-Your... Majesty...?"

’How long as he been awake?’

Crimson eyes cracked open. Their gazes locked.

Florian stopped breathing.

This was it. The moment Heinz would look at him with disgust. The moment he’d say it meant nothing, or worse, he pitied him.

’Maybe he’ll summon Lancelot to tie me up and have me executed aga—’

But then—suddenly—

"Ah—!"

Florian squeaked in surprise as Heinz pulled him in. Firmly. Against his chest.

Florian’s brain short-circuited.

’What the fuck?!’

"How are you feeling?" Heinz’s voice was low and warm, his chin resting gently atop Florian’s head.

Florian didn’t respond at first. He was too caught in the whirlwind of his own thoughts, too stunned by how soft Heinz was being. The king’s arms were wrapped securely around him, one hand stroking his hair with a tenderness that made no sense.

’Why is he... being so affectionate?’ Florian wondered, his mind spiraling.

He blinked, staring at Heinz’s bare chest, unsure what to say. Everything felt surreal—last night, this morning, the way his body ached, and now this... soft, protective cocoon that was so at odds with the powerful, commanding man he knew Heinz to be.

"I’m... feeling okay?" he finally answered, though it came out more like a question than a statement.

Heinz chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. "That didn’t sound very convincing," he murmured, gently brushing his fingers through Florian’s hair again.

Florian tensed slightly but didn’t pull away.

He didn’t understand any of this.

The way Heinz was touching him... the way his voice sounded so gentle... it was making it hard to breathe, let alone think.

"Your Majesty...why are you acting like this?"