CHAPTER 462: ’LET ME SPEAK.’

"Azure, you have to stay here, okay? As much as I want to take you, I can’t really trust you won’t attack him." Florian spoke softly as he gently patted the little blue dragon’s head.

Azure did not look pleased.

In fact, he looked downright furious—his scaly tail flicking back and forth, betraying his irritation. He let out a quiet huff through his nostrils, turning his head away in protest.

"I’ll make it up to you later. I promise. This is just important, okay?" Florian added, offering a small, coaxing smile.

Azure still wouldn’t meet his gaze. He simply turned his back with an exaggerated flick of his tail, clearly sulking.

Florian let out a quiet sigh, though the corners of his mouth lifted faintly in amusement.

’He does know he can always just force his way? Yet he’s listening and pouting.’

It reminded him of someone—someone equally stubborn, equally loyal.

Florian rose to his feet, smoothing down his clothes. "Behave, okay?" he said one last time, then turned toward Cashew. "Let’s go?"

Cashew gave a small nod, his eyes still puffy and red from all the crying earlier. He looked exhausted, but determined.

Together, they stepped out of the room. As Florian glanced back one last time, he caught Azure glancing at him, just for a second—his tail still twitching, but his eyes softer.

Florian gave him a fond smile before quietly closing the door.

"Azure seems really mad," Cashew mumbled as they walked.

"Azure’s just worried," Florian replied, reaching over to ruffle Cashew’s hair gently. "I’m sure he’ll understand. His Majesty hates Hendrix, so I’m sure Azure also hates Hendrix."

"If he cared about you, the one he should hate is His Majesty," Cashew muttered bitterly, his voice sharp despite its quietness.

Florian turned his head toward him, eyes narrowing a little—not in anger, but in concern.

"Hey now, Cashew... I understand how you’re feeling, but he’s still the king. I don’t want you to get in trouble, okay?" Florian said, his tone careful but firm. He placed a hand gently on Cashew’s cheek before pulling away.

Cashew lowered his gaze and nodded slowly, though the somber look on his face didn’t go away.

"So," Florian asked after a moment, "how do I talk to Hendrix?"

"W-Well, usually, I just—"

"I’m already here, Your Highness."

The voice came so suddenly, both Florian and Cashew flinched and turned on instinct.

Florian’s eyes shot wide open as he turned and looked up—right into the familiar face of Hendrix.

"W-Why... You... You’re..." Florian’s words stuttered as the shock hit him full force. His breath caught in his throat.

Hendrix tilted his head slightly, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Yes? Are you alright?"

’How the...’ Florian’s thoughts scrambled. He shook his head quickly, trying to pull himself together.

This was not the time to fall apart.

And then the realization struck him like lightning.

They were still standing right in front of Heinz’s room.

Florian’s eyes widened in panic. "Fuck."

Without another second of hesitation, he grabbed Hendrix’s arm and pulled him sharply. "Oh my," Hendrix remarked in amused surprise, but Florian didn’t stop to respond.

He dragged Hendrix down the hall, threw open the door to his room, and yanked him inside before slamming the door shut behind them.

Cashew moved to follow, but Florian held out a hand to stop him.

"Let us talk... alone. And keep watch for His Majesty. Give one knock the moment he or anyone else arrives, understood?" Florian said quickly, his voice hushed but tense.

Cashew nodded without question.

"Good. Thank you, Cashew," Florian added, giving him a brief but grateful smile before he shut the door and let out a heavy exhale.

Finally, he turned around—and Hendrix was already watching him.

"Well, this is a surprise," Hendrix said, smile widening. "I heard you wanted to talk to me, but wanting to talk to me alone in your room is quite—"

"What are you thinking?" Florian cut him off, his voice sharp and sudden.

Hendrix blinked, visibly surprised.

"Pardon?"

"Are you not thinking at all? Or are you just suicidal?" Florian demanded, arms crossed tightly over his chest, his voice sharper than usual.

Hendrix blinked, momentarily stunned. "What...?"

Florian’s eyes narrowed, his tone turning icy. "You know His Majesty hates you. He tried to kill you, and then you just—appear—right in front of his door? You have a death wish, don’t you?"

"Well—"

"And how did you even know

I wanted to speak with you?" Florian snapped, voice rising slightly, each question hitting like a blow.

"I—"

Florian suddenly gasped, eyes widening with a flicker of both realization and accusation. "Did you plant something on my body? Do you hear my thoughts? Are you able to track me? Are you... stalking me?"

"Your—"

"And—" Florian started again, his breath quickening, but Hendrix raised both of his hands in surrender, cutting him off.

"Your Highness, please," Hendrix said gently, his voice calm but firm. "I understand you might be frustrated and confused, but please... let me speak."

Florian glared at him, chest rising and falling with each breath, and God, it was infuriating just how much Hendrix resembled Heinz. The angle of his jaw, the shape of his eyes, even the way he looked at him—it was all too similar.

It made everything harder.

Florian held his gaze for a moment longer, then drew in a slow breath through his nose, trying to steady himself. "Cashew told me everything," he said quietly. "So, I want to know the truth. Please. Why have you been doing this since the ball? What... is this future that Cashew told me about?"

There was a pause. And then Hendrix smiled.

But it wasn’t the smug, confident smile he usually wore. It was sad—soft, almost mournful.

He stepped forward slowly, and Florian didn’t move, though his eyes watched him carefully.

When Hendrix stopped, they were close—too close. Only inches apart now. Florian’s breath caught, uncertain.

Then, Hendrix lifted his hand—slowly, delicately—and rested it against Florian’s cheek.

The gesture made Florian tense instantly. His brows pulled together in confusion.

"What are you doing?" he asked, voice low and guarded.

Hendrix didn’t answer immediately. He just looked at him—really looked at him.

’What is he doing? Why is he just staring?’ Florian thought, his heart beating a little faster in his chest.

And then, finally, Hendrix spoke.

"You’re much livelier now than you were before," he murmured. "I’m so glad."