Whispers erupted like wildfire the instant Heinz’s words settled in the air.
The crowd stirred, voices hushed but sharp, slipping between the cracks of applause.
Nobles exchanged wide-eyed glances, fans fluttered in restless hands, and even some of the dukes shifted, brows lifting at the king’s bold declaration.
Florian’s eyes stayed wide, his breath caught somewhere in his throat. His cheeks burned hot, crimson spreading fast as though the stares of the entire ballroom had set his skin aflame.
Yet Heinz... Heinz did not falter.
He stood tall, his hand still resting lightly against Florian’s arm, gaze never wavering. His lips curved into a soft, steady smile—warm, unshaken, utterly sincere.
There was no mockery, no teasing lilt in his expression.
He wasn’t playing with Florian. He wasn’t joking.
He meant it.
Which made Florian’s chest tighten all the more.
’What is he doing? Why would he say that—here of all places?’
Florian blinked up at him, searching, desperate for some hint in his eyes. But all he found was calm, unwavering affection, as if the king were immune to the storm of whispers surrounding them.
Heinz’s voice carried out again, smooth and commanding. "Because of you, a lot of good has come to this kingdom... and to me." His words rang out clearly, silencing some of the murmurs. His gaze never left Florian’s. "This celebration is for you. An appreciation for being blessed by your arrival to me."
Florian’s stomach twisted, confusion clawing at him.
’Really... what is he—’
He didn’t understand. Not the timing, not the reason, not the weight of the words.
What was Heinz’s goal? Why was he doing this in front of everyone?
But before he could process it, Heinz’s expression softened even further. His voice lowered, though still loud enough to reach every corner of the hall.
"Happy birthday, Florian."
The words struck Florian like a chord, so tender they nearly unraveled him.
And then—like a wave breaking—the hall followed.
"Happy birthday, Prince Florian!"
Voices rose together, the words echoing through the ballroom, carried on the swell of applause.
Hands clapped in unison, louder, stronger than before, filling the chamber with sound. Chandelier crystals trembled with the vibrations, golden light scattering across the marble as the nobles celebrated him.
Florian froze in place, overwhelmed. His heart raced erratically, the clapping pounding in his ears almost as loud as the frantic beat in his chest.
He should have smiled. Bowed. Something. Anything.
But all he could do was stand there, hand trembling faintly where it held Heinz’s arm, staring at the king who had just shifted the entire night into something he hadn’t expected at all.
’Heinz... what are you planning?’
Heinz leaned down slightly, the thunder of applause still rattling through the vast hall, his lips so close Florian could feel the faint heat of his breath against his ear.
"Say a few words," he whispered, his voice low, meant for Florian alone. "Thank them."
Florian’s chest tightened painfully. His fingers twitched where they clung to the fabric of Heinz’s sleeve, the gesture small but desperate. He gave the slightest shake of his head.
’No... no, no, I can’t. What do I even say after that? I’ll make a fool of myself in front of everyone—’
’Just thank them all, and be humble...I guess...’
’They’re finally here.’
’Now he looks upset.’
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The readers' comments on the novel: Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight!