Lucius spoke with a measured calm, but the weight of his words landed like stones in Florian's chest. He explained everything—the letter that had arrived that very morning, sealed and marked from Floramatria. How Heinz himself had refused to hand it over.

And worse, how there had been a box—a box filled with other letters that all bore the same sender.

Florian listened without interruption. He forced himself into stillness, though every muscle beneath his skin wanted to coil, to tremble, to react. H

is arms tightened slightly across his chest, nails pressing against his sleeves.

'A whole box? From them? How many letters did the original Florian never even get to see? And why....?'

Lucius's golden eyes flickered toward Lancelot as he continued, his tone carrying the faintest hesitation.

"I… am not fully sure if those were truly meant for you, or if they were… redirected somehow. And if they were, I do not know why His Majesty would withhold them. Delilah has always been responsible for the letters of the harem. Never I. So, when I learned of this, I was… surprised."

The pause in his voice carried weight, like something sharp hidden beneath velvet.

'Delilah? But why...'

That was the only constant question.

Why?

They expected Florian to react, to lash out, to let his emotions flare into anger. Both men watched him closely, as though bracing for the storm.

But Florian's face remained composed, his expression eerily calm, though his pulse thundered in his ears.

Because it didn't make sense.

Heinz had nothing to gain by hiding letters from Floramatria. If the original Florian had truly received them, then keeping them served no advantage. Nothing at all.

And now, with Heinz aware that he was no longer the same Florian—what point was there in continuing such deception?

'No… if the letters were hidden, there must be some sort of important reason.'

Right?

The thought coiled tighter in his chest, not anger but cold calculation, his curiosity burning hotter than rage.

Finally, he inclined his head, his voice steady, deliberate. "Thank you for telling me."

The words startled them both—Lucius blinked, and Lancelot's brows lifted in surprise. But Florian pressed on, his calm tone carrying authority.

"And if it's alright with you, I will ask His Majesty directly about this. Do not worry—I'll make certain neither of you suffer for speaking honestly."

Lucius, ever controlled, bowed his head slightly, though the flicker in his eyes betrayed some faint unease.

"Of course, Your Highness."

Florian turned his gaze to Lancelot, softening just a fraction.

"You as well. Thank you. Both of you."

A faint smile curved his lips, warm yet firm.

Lancelot, caught off guard, allowed himself a small smile in return, his hand lifting briefly from his sword as though the gesture eased him.

"Anything for you, Your Highness."

'I feel like it's been so long since I was able to talk to them normally. They really haven't changed all that much… but it does seem like…' Florian let out a small, relieved sigh, his shoulders easing just slightly.

'They aren't as hung up on me as before. That's… comforting.'

If anything, it almost seemed like Lucius and Lancelot had grown closer in his absence—standing side by side with an ease that surprised him. 'That's interesting… and probably good. But right now, I have more important things to do.'

"I must go now and speak with His Majesty," Florian said at last, his voice firm but polite. "Please, go check on Cashew—make sure he's alright. Can you do that for me?"

Both men straightened immediately and dipped into another bow, their movements precise.

"Of course," Lucius replied, his tone steady but his golden eyes still watchful.

Then, after a beat, he added with a hint of gentleness: "But please, do continue enjoying the party, Your Highness. You deserve a break to enjoy."

Florian chuckled softly, though the sound carried a bittersweet edge. 'The whole point of this ball is for the original Florian to find solace in case he ever regains his body. Not for me to take a break.'

But that wasn't something he could voice aloud. Instead, he smiled. "I will. And I'll find you two again later—eventually. Maybe over some wine, when the night is calmer, and when we're not speaking of such heavy matters."

He tilted his head, his tone warmer now. "I consider you both my friends. And I would hate if our only conversations were weighed down by secrets and suspicions."

That struck them both. Their eyes widened faintly, almost as though the word "friends" was something unexpected. Then, slowly, their expressions softened.

"I would love that," Lancelot said, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips.

"As would I," Lucius agreed, his own voice quieter, yet no less sincere.

Florian's smile grew, his chest easing in a way it hadn't all evening. He lifted a hand in a casual wave as he turned on his heel, slipping back into the sea of glittering guests.

The glow of chandeliers bathed his figure, and the hum of laughter and music seemed louder once more.

'Now that I've wrapped that up… it's time to find Heinz. Wherever he is.'

His eyes scanned the room carefully, searching the clusters of nobles and courtiers, though unease curled low in his stomach at the thought of where the king might be lurking.

'Actually...where is he?'

✧༺ ⏱︎ ༻✧

"Ah. My heart is hurting," Lancelot said suddenly, placing a dramatic hand over his chest as though he had been struck by an arrow. His silver-gray eyes glimmered faintly with mischief, though his voice carried a genuine ache.

Lucius turned his head, golden eyes narrowing. "What?"

"I know His Highness is unattainable," the knight sighed, tilting his head back slightly as if lamenting to the heavens, "but gods, is he making it hard to move forward. He's far too adorable for his own good."

Lucius exhaled through his nose, his expression caught between disapproval and reluctant amusement. "You're truly shameless, aren't you? To say such a thing aloud without a shred of restraint." He shook his head slowly, his sleek black hair catching the faint light.

But inwardly, he said nothing more—for he agreed.

'He really is… unbearably so.'

Lucius's thoughts grew heavier as he cast a fleeting glance toward the crowd where Florian had disappeared. There was no denying it anymore. Heinz—the King himself—liked Florian. Perhaps even loved him.

Lucius's jaw tightened faintly. He and Lancelot both knew better than to tread that path. Competing with Heinz was not only reckless but impossible. And yet…

"I do wonder, though," Lucius murmured, his brow furrowing as his mind circled back to the matter at hand. "The letters… many of them seemed old. Years old. I would understand if His Majesty chose to keep a recent one from him, considering the circumstances, but all those others?"

Lancelot's lips curved into a crooked half-smile as he dropped his hand from his chest, the faint clink of his armor following the motion. "Who knows? Perhaps His Majesty has loved His Highness for months… and was simply in denial until recently."

Lucius shot him a look sharp enough to cut steel. His golden eyes narrowed, gleaming with irritation.

"His Majesty?" He scoffed under his breath. "Please. Stop jesting. I just hope his highness' talk with his majesty goes well."

"I hope so as well. Those two really need to communicate more."