"And the task..." Elara said at last, her tone calm yet almost teasing, "...is to figure out why I had him host you for four days." 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚

’That’s it?’ Florian thought, the words echoing in his head long after they parted ways.

Now, walking through the quiet marble corridors of the Diamond Palace, the weight of that vague instruction pressed on his mind.

His footsteps echoed faintly, a steady rhythm against the stillness of the hall.

It sounded simple.

Too simple.

But Anastasia—the former queen—had failed this same task once. Florian didn’t know how, but it was enough to tell him there was more beneath the surface.

There was always a catch.

’Could it be about her brother?’ he wondered, his brows knitting slightly as he walked. ’The reason she inherited the dukedom instead of him? Maybe something about why she’s called "Duke" instead of Duchess?’

It was possible. Everything about Elara screamed deliberation—every word, every smile. Nothing she said was ever without intent.

That smile she gave him at the end of their meeting—gentle, but quietly pained—stayed in his mind like a thorn. It wasn’t the smile of someone speaking about an enemy or a bitter past.

It was the smile of someone who’d already accepted something... inevitable.

’She doesn’t hate him. But she doesn’t seem free of him either.’

He hadn’t seen this Eldrick before. The man had skipped every major royal gathering—the first ball, his birthday, every important event that required the presence of dukes. For someone of noble rank, that was nearly scandalous.

Still, Elara was no fool. She wouldn’t send him somewhere dangerous, not after everything that happened. If this "task" were a trap, she’d lose her title—and probably her head.

And she had even suggested he inform Heinz about it.

That, in itself, said a lot.

Heinz, for his part, hadn’t seemed concerned when Florian mentioned it. He recognized the name Celestial Peak, and there was even a flicker of familiarity in his eyes when Elara’s brother was brought up. He trusted Elara, maybe more than any of the other dukes.

Despite the history. Despite their betrayal.

Still, the idea of seeing Heinz again made Florian’s stomach twist.

No—worse than that.

He dreaded how calm he felt about it.

How the thought of speaking with Heinz no longer sent waves of anger through him... just an aching, reluctant sort of stillness.

’I shouldn’t feel calm around him.’

He clenched his fists slightly, shaking his head as if to drive the thought away.

He hated this—how his emotions seemed to betray him at every turn. How even now, when he should’ve been focused on strategy and survival, his mind kept circling back to the king who had destroyed everything.

And yet—he couldn’t stop remembering what Elara said before she left his room:

"Your Highness, I know you don’t wish to speak about it, so we won’t," Elara began, her tone light but knowing.

She rose gracefully from her seat, her silken gown whispering against the floor as she turned to face Florian, who stood hesitantly by the door. "But if I may offer a word of advice—not as a duke, but as a married woman."

Florian blinked, caught off guard. ’Advice?’

"Yes...?" he replied carefully, uncertain what she was about to say.

Elara’s smile softened, her expression almost wistful. "If you truly do not like someone," she said, "your heart wouldn’t be so torn about it."

Florian’s breath hitched. He tried to keep his composure, but her words struck deeper than he wanted to admit.

She continued, voice calm and smooth as if she were reciting an old truth she’d once learned the hard way. "And if your mind is angry... it does not mean your heart is."

Her smile grew just slightly, carrying both warmth and mischief.

Then, with a wink, she added lightly, "Just a bit of wisdom from experience. I’ve been there myself—though in your case, it might be a bit more difficult... considering how terrifying His Majesty can be."

Those words—Elara’s words—still echoed in his head like a ghost that refused to fade.

Florian pressed his lips together and walked faster down the long corridor, each step heavier than the last.

’I’m mad because he’s not just an asshole—he’s evil.’ His thoughts hissed, sharp and bitter. ’He killed the original Florian over a misunderstanding that he never even tried to clear up.’

His hand balled into a fist. He could still remember the look on Heinz’s face that night—the cold, empty calm that had followed the act.

Everything that happened after had been a web of lies.

Heinz had risked his safety for his own gain, lied to him about helping him return to his body, and worst of all—he had hidden that he spoke to the original Florian.

He hid that he knew.

Florian’s chest ached at the memory. The betrayal still stung, no matter how much time had passed.

But then another memory intruded—the image of Heinz kneeling before him, head bowed, voice trembling.

Begging. Pleading.

Asking for forgiveness.

’Atonement...’ Florian thought bitterly. ’Does he even understand what that means?’

Could someone like Heinz ever truly change? Could he erase centuries of cruelty and sin with a few tears and a vow to do better?

Florian didn’t want to think so.

He couldn’t think so.

Because if there was even a chance Heinz meant it—if there was even a chance the man who killed him once was trying—then Florian didn’t know what he would do.

His heart wavered dangerously, betraying him with every soft thought that followed.

He forced himself to shake his head. ’No. No. Don’t fall for that again. You’re not the same fool like the original. Stay angry. Stay cold.’

He was rounding the final corner leading to Heinz’s office when he stopped.

A voice—familiar and far too smooth—broke the silence.

"Well, it was nice having a little chat with you, Your Majesty."

Florian froze, every nerve in his body tightening.

That voice.

He’d recognize that anywhere.

Asher.

He didn’t need to peek around the corner to confirm it; he’d know that smug tone anywhere.

"Indeed," Heinz’s voice replied, firm but tired. "But please make a request before meeting. I do not want to risk Florian seeing you."

Florian’s blood ran cold.

’What is he doing here? Why is he—’

And then Asher’s next words cut through him like a blade.

"Just make sure that the boy ends up forgiving you. Do whatever it takes, so that he never returns to Floramatria—as per our agreement."

Florian’s heart dropped. His breath hitched in his throat.

’Agreement...?’

For a moment, he couldn’t even move. His pulse pounded in his ears, so loud it drowned everything else.

Then the weight of realization hit him like a wave—and the only words that came to mind were cold and hollow.

’What the fuck...?’