CHAPTER 480: ’THE CURIOUS CASE OF HEINZ.’

"Isn’t this just an excuse to hug me?" Florian muttered, his hands pushing against Hendrix’s chest.

Hendrix didn’t let go—if anything, his arms tightened, locking the prince firmly against him. "Yes and no. I can’t have you thinking I’m lying to you... and I have a feeling he’s just around here somewhere."

Florian could hear the words rumble from above him, his face pressed into the warmth of Hendrix’s chest. He couldn’t even see Hendrix’s expression.

"You’re... very different from how everyone has described you," Florian grumbled, his voice muffled. "You’re more forward than people say."

Yet... some part of him stopped resisting.

’If what he’s saying is true...’

If Heinz really was still in the Diamond Palace, deliberately avoiding him, then... why?

Why would Heinz do that?

Because of the accident?

Because he’d hurt Florian?

No—there was something else.

Lately, whenever Florian did see him, Heinz looked at him as if he were a ghost. Not startled—haunted. He didn’t even respond the way he normally would.

"That tends to happen when you’ve lived a whole life and died," Hendrix said, his tone almost amused. One of his hands slid up, fingers brushing through Florian’s hair, resting at the back of his head with a slow, deliberate caress. "If anything... you’re also different from the person I met back then."

"That tends to happen when you’re no longer heartbroken and yearning for someone who’d never love you back," Florian answered, the bitterness in his voice sharper than he intended.

Hendrix tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing in curiosity. "That’s what I’m wondering... how come in this lifetime, you no longer love him? Unless..."

Florian’s eyes widened. Right.

He’d been so busy trying to convince everyone that he no longer loved Heinz, he’d forgotten that with Hendrix... he wasn’t supposed to be convincing him at all. Hendrix remembered their past life. To him, Florian’s sudden change in feelings wouldn’t make sense—

Unless... Florian also had memories.

’Fuck. Everything’s getting to my head. All this pressure, everyone shoving me towards Heinz—and I forgot the one thing Hendrix would remember the original me for.’

Being in love with Heinz.

’How the hell do I fix this? And why is he calling me out now, of all times?’

"I..." Florian’s mind scrambled for a believable excuse, anything to steer this away.

"Mhm?" Hendrix’s gaze was heavy, waiting.

"I-I, uh... I’m—"

But, as was becoming frustratingly common, Florian didn’t get to finish.

Suddenly, a force yanked him away from Hendrix—no, ripped him from his arms. He felt a strong pull on his clothes, but before he could stumble or hit the ground, another set of arms wrapped around him from behind, steady and unyielding.

Florian’s heartbeat thundered in his ears.

He knew these arms.

Slowly, almost afraid to confirm it, he looked up. His breath caught.

"...Your Majesty?"

Heinz looked... awful.

Even worse than the last time Florian had seen him—and that had already been bad enough. His skin was pale, almost bloodless, his eyes swollen and ringed with deep shadows that had never been there before.

The faint puffiness around them gave the impression of someone who hadn’t slept—or had cried too much.

The bags beneath his eyes weren’t just worse—they were new. Heinz had always carried himself with a cold, untouchable composure.

Now, it was as if someone had taken that image and stripped it bare, leaving behind the raw embodiment of exhaustion... of death and despair.

And he wasn’t looking at Florian.

His gaze was locked on Hendrix, dark and venomous, like he wanted to kill him where he stood.

No—this was more than anger.

The hatred simmering in Heinz’s eyes was deeper, sharper, almost feral.

Hendrix, momentarily taken aback, straightened and rested a casual hand on his hip. "You look terrible, brother. What happened?"

’Are you insane? Don’t provoke him!’ Florian’s mind screamed, his pulse jumping as Heinz’s grip around him tightened just enough to make the warning clear.

But Heinz didn’t answer.

Instead, without a word, he leaned down and swept Florian into his arms.

"W-Wait—hey...!" Florian’s voice faltered, his breath catching as he found himself cradled against Heinz’s chest, arms instinctively winding around the king’s neck. The movement was effortless, almost possessive, and Florian could feel the tension radiating off him.

Still silent, Heinz’s eyes finally dropped to Florian’s face. He took a single step backward—

—And in the blink of an eye, the garden vanished.

The familiar weight of air, the faint scent of cedar and parchment—it was unmistakable.

Heinz’s room.

Florian glanced around, heart racing. Hendrix was gone. There was no one else here.

The king carried him across the room, his silence heavier than any accusation. He set Florian down on the bed with a gentleness that clashed almost violently with the storm in his eyes.

Florian didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know what to do.

The pounding of his own heartbeat filled his ears, each thud loud enough to drown out thought. Heinz stood over him, looking down in a way Florian couldn’t read—empty, yet intense, as if his emotions had burned past recognition.

Heinz felt... hollow.

No, he was hollow.

Florian’s mouth finally opened the moment Heinz began unfastening his clothes, moving onto the bed, the slow crawl of his body toward Florian like the advance of an inevitable tide.

’Is he...?’ Florian’s breath caught, eyes widening again. "Y-Your Majesty, wait—why so suddenly? You—"

He never got the chance to finish.

Heinz’s mouth crashed onto his, the kiss rough and unyielding.

A hand cupped Florian’s cheek with almost bruising pressure as Heinz’s tongue forced its way past his lips, claiming the space with desperate, overwhelming insistence.

Florian’s hands shot up to Heinz’s shoulders, pushing against the solid wall of muscle in a futile attempt to create distance.

’Why isn’t he saying anything? What happened to him? Where has he been all this time?’

For a heartbeat, Heinz resisted. Then, he eased back just enough for Florian to breathe—just enough space for words to form.

Before he could use them, Florian’s palms slid upward, covering Heinz’s mouth to stop him from... from what, he wasn’t even sure. From speaking? From kissing him again? From whatever this was?

"Your Majesty!" Florian’s voice trembled, sharp with both panic and confusion. His chest rose and fell quickly, each breath short and heated, cheeks flushed with the force of everything he wasn’t saying.

Heinz stared down at him, those eyes... fractured, yet so empty it was almost worse than anger.

"Where... have you been?" Florian pressed, the words spilling out. "What happened? You’ve been gone for four days, and you’ve been different. You’re not even speaking, you’re just—"

He stopped himself, realizing his hands were still pressed to Heinz’s mouth.

Slowly, hesitantly, he moved them down from Heinz’s mouth, his fingers trembling as they came to rest against the cold skin of the king’s cheeks.

"What’s going on?" he asked again, softer this time—pleading.