’But I didn’t even damage him.’

Not directly.

Not like the original Florian—the one Heinz maimed, betrayed, broke beyond recognition.

If anything... this Florian was angrier for that Florian.For the boy Heinz killed, the boy Heinz forgot, the boy Heinz blamed even after remembering.

And yet...Why did it still feel like this Florian hated him more deeply than anyone ever had?

Why did it feel like cruelty?

"I know what you’re thinking, Your Majesty," Lancelot said, voice calm but heavy. "You believe His Highness shouldn’t be this affected. That everything he feels is borrowed—pain he inherited from the original Florian."

Heinz’s finger twitched.

Because yes—Lancelot had struck the exact nerve.

"But the truth is," Lancelot continued, "His Highness has been through a lot himself."

He stepped forward, tone softening.

"Those first months? He was constantly looked down on by the princesses. He was treated as an outsider. And you—well, you ignored him. Dismissed him. And when the two of you finally grew closer..."

He hesitated—but pressed on anyway.

"...you used him. You put him in danger. And I cannot forget the look on his face the day I found him during his first kidnapping."

A drop of shame slid hot down Heinz’s spine.

He remembered that day—how bored he’d been.How indifferent.

Back then, he already knew Florian would be the one to take the damage—physically and mentally—and he still let it happen.

"Prince Florian has always been scared of you," Lancelot said. "Even when he spoke boldly. Even when he argued with you. Lucius saw it, and so did I."

He tightened his hands behind his back.

"It wasn’t the fear of a subordinate fearing punishment. It was... the fear of someone who genuinely believed you might kill him if he made one mistake."

Heinz’s breath stilled in his throat.

"And yet," Lancelot added gently, "even under that fear, there was always something else." 𝗳𝚛𝚎𝚎𝘄𝕖𝕓𝕟𝕠𝚟𝚎𝕝.𝗰𝕠𝐦

A pause.

Then—

"Affection, Your Majesty. No matter how critical he acted, no matter how angry he was... I always saw how he looked at you."

Heinz’s heart twisted painfully.

He didn’t deserve that affection. Not then. Not now.

"And after the second kidnapping," Lancelot said quietly, "when I saw how terrified he’d become... His Highness was shaken to his core. Traumatised. You saw everything inside his mind—and yet you waited until your confession to tell him any of it."

Heinz looked away. "I told him the moment I confessed."

"And that," Lancelot answered immediately, "is the problem."

He took a slow breath, gathering courage.

"You and His Highness... you don’t communicate. You hide things from each other—especially you. And whether you mean it or not, every lie, every omission, every time you choose silence... he sees it as betrayal."

Heinz swallowed.

Lancelot wasn’t wrong.

"Prince Florian always finds out," Lancelot continued. "He always realizes you’ve hidden something. And each time... it tells him you don’t care how much it hurts him."

Lancelot bowed his head slightly.

"That is why he’s distant, Your Majesty. That is why he’s cold. Because you’ve been hurting him even after you started trusting him—again and again—without even realizing it."

Heinz closed his eyes, chest trembling, breath shallow.

’Florian saw Asher... and heard our conversation.’

The realization sat heavy and sour in Heinz’s throat.

At first, he had been indignant—resentful even—that Florian hadn’t given him a chance to explain.

But now?

Now, that flicker of indignation crumbled into dust.

What was there to explain?

Heinz should have told him from the very beginning.

He should have told him everything.

"And lastly," Lancelot said quietly, bowing so deeply his forehead nearly touched the floor, "I will apologize in advance, Your Majesty."

Heinz lifted his eyes at that—just enough to meet Lancelot’s.

"But it seems," Lancelot continued, "that because you apologized, you expected everything to simply... reset. Clean slate. No consequences. No atonement. You say you will make it up to him—but saying so is different from doing so."

He straightened slightly.

"If you truly want His Highness to forgive you, then you must be regretful without expecting forgiveness in return."

Heinz inhaled sharply.

Ah.

There it was.

The truth he had been avoiding.

The one he deserved to hear.

All this time—Yes.

He had been expecting.

Expecting Florian to soften.

Expecting Florian to yield.

Expecting Florian to love him with the same unconditional heart the original Florian had shown him.

He had been angry that Florian remained cold—

Angry because he believed he had earned forgiveness by merely confessing his wrongs.

Heinz closed his eyes, breath trembling.

’I didn’t even damage him?’

What a laughable thought.

’Ha... He probably felt everything the original felt. He probably dreamed of every moment I destroyed him. All the while I...’

All the while Heinz stood there, thinking only of his own remorse.

His own suffering.

His own longing.

Never once did he stop and consider the weight Florian carried—two lifetimes’ worth of pain, one body forced to bear them both.

Heinz let out an unsteady breath.

He was an idiot.

A fool.

A complete, undeniable, catastrophic fool.

Heinz straightened his back.

Slowly. Deliberately.

As if the weight of Lancelot’s words had finally settled into place.

Okay.

He understood now.

Or—no—he accepted it now.

Heinz was not the victim here.

He never had been.

And it was time he stopped acting as if he was the one owed gentleness and understanding.

He yearned for Florian—yearned so much it felt like his chest was splitting open.

He yearned for Florian’s love like a starving man clinging to warmth.

But yearning didn’t erase consequences.

And Florian...

Florian was the one suffering now.

Florian was the one being targeted.

Florian was the one paying for the sins Heinz committed long before this version of him ever existed.

"Alright." Heinz exhaled slowly, running a hand through his long hair as if clearing his thoughts. "You have my gratitude, Lancelot. I feel... much wiser now."

Lancelot blinked.

And blinked again.

"Ah—o-of course, Your Majesty," he stammered. "It is... understandable. Even I still struggle with the concept of love. It’s far easier to make mistakes than to fix them."

Heinz almost smiled at that.

Almost.

He nodded instead.

"I believe I’ve already taken too much of your time. So—why I summoned you." Heinz cleared his throat, regaining the sharpness of a king. "I’ll make it quick."

Lancelot straightened immediately. "Yes, Your Majesty?"

"Florian, and a few companions of his choosing, will be accompanying Duke Elara," Heinz said. "Once it’s deemed safe enough for the dukes to return home, Florian will be staying in Celestial Peak for a few days."

Lancelot’s brows lifted. "Pardon? For what reason?"

"It’s... a task," Heinz replied, tapping his fingers against the armrest. "I vaguely remember my mother being given a similar assignment years ago. It should be nothing dangerous but..."

He paused.

And that hesitation—coming from Heinz Obsidian—made Lancelot’s stomach drop.

Heinz’s jaw clenched slightly.

"...but I would be far more at ease if you accompanied him," Heinz finished. "You, and a few other knights I trust. Because I have a bad feeling about this."