’He’s tall...’ Florian noted, his chest rising and falling as he struggled to catch his breath. The sting of exertion burned in his lungs from the chase. His eyes flicked to the man’s hands—large, calloused, steady. ’His arms are strong... definitely a knight.’
His gaze traveled further, taking in the man’s attire. The suit he wore was exquisite, every detail meticulous. Gold embroidery framed the edges of the dark fabric, and polished buttons gleamed faintly under the flickering light of the corridor sconces. This wasn’t the uniform of palace staff. The elegance screamed noble—no, someone important.
’A new teacher? Or someone here for the ball?’ Florian’s mind raced, trying to piece together an answer, but no immediate explanation came.
"I think they’re gone," the man said, his deep voice cutting through the tension like a blade. He took a single step back, but his hand remained firmly on Florian’s arm, the grip warm but unyielding.
Florian craned his neck, glancing down the dim hallway. The sound of hurried footsteps was fading now, distant echoes swallowed by the vastness of the palace. The princesses and their gaggle of maids had abandoned their pursuit. Relief flickered in his chest for a moment before it was snuffed out by the realization that he was alone—with him.
Slowly, Florian’s gaze returned to the stranger, studying him with care. Dark brown hair framed his face in tousled waves, and a constellation of moles dotted his sharp, angular features. His orange-brown eyes gleamed, filled with something Florian couldn’t quite name—a mix of curiosity and mischief, perhaps. He looked older, somewhere in his late twenties, maybe thirty at most.
’I’ve seen him somewhere before... but where?’ The thought lingered uneasily, teasing the edges of Florian’s memory.
The man’s lips curled into a smirk, his eyes glinting with amusement as he leaned closer, his movements deliberate and slow. "Well, Mr. Popular, may I ask why they were chasing after you? As far as I know, you’re not exactly on the best of terms with the princesses."
Florian stiffened at his words. ’He knows me... but he’s not using formalities.’
Frowning, Florian tugged subtly against the man’s grip. "First of all, would you kindly let go of me, sir?" His voice was cold, clipped—refusing to give ground, even as his unease simmered just beneath the surface.
The man chuckled, low and rich, as though Florian’s defiance amused him. "Feisty, aren’t we? That’s... unexpected."
’Unexpected?’ Irritation prickled at Florian’s skin, his brows knitting together. ’Who the hell is this man?’
Squaring his shoulders, Florian drew himself up, determined to project authority even as his pulse quickened. "Don’t make me ask again. I’m a very busy person."
"Busy with what?" The man’s smirk deepened, his tone mocking. "Seducing everyone in the palace?"
Florian’s nose wrinkled, frustration flaring in an instant. ’Jesus fucking Christ. I haven’t done anything remotely scandalous in weeks. When is this damn reputation going to die already?’
The man’s laughter spilled out, unbothered and entirely too loud in the quiet corridor. "My, my," he said, his voice dripping with amusement as he looked Florian over with a gaze that felt far too intimate. "I must say, seeing you up close... I’m very impressed."
Before Florian could retort, the man’s hand tightened on his arm, pulling him closer. A sharp, woody scent wafted between them—his cologne. It was subtle yet overpowering, like everything about this man.
’Seriously? Why does this keep happening to me?’ Florian thought, his stomach twisting with irritation. He clenched his teeth, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes. This was becoming a pattern—one he knew far too well. The same routine, over and over. They saw Florian, they wanted him, they used him. And somewhere along the way, Lucius or Lancelot would swoop in like clockwork to save him.
’At this point, it’s not even scary—it’s just exhausting.’
Taking a steadying breath, Florian pushed firmly against the man’s chest. "Do you mind respecting my personal space, sir? I don’t know who you are, and frankly, I don’t care."
The man let out another laugh, rich and smooth, as though Florian’s defiance only encouraged him. "Oh, you’re really feisty. Makes you even more attractive." His tongue flicked out, wetting his lips as he grinned. "I must admit, I’ve never been with a man before."
Florian let out a sharp, dry laugh. The audacity was almost too much. "Seriously? Sir, let me make something very clear: I am not above hitting you."
"With those puny arms?" The man’s smirk widened, and he leaned in again, his voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial whisper. "Don’t fight it. I know you want this. And once you find out who I am... you’ll be glad I chose you."
A chill of anger prickled at Florian’s skin as the man’s breath ghosted over his ear. His voice was rich with unearned confidence, his words slow, deliberate, as though he were savoring every syllable. Then a hand slid lower—far lower than it should have—and Florian’s composure cracked.
’I swear to God, if one more man thinks he can touch me like this—’
"Come on..." The man’s voice dropped further, an obscene purr that sent a wave of nausea curling in Florian’s stomach. Then he pressed forward, his hips flush against Florian’s. The unmistakable pressure sent a jolt of shock and disgust through him.
’What the actual fuck? What the FUCK?!’ Florian’s thoughts screamed, his entire body going rigid. ’Nope. I’m done. I’m going to hit him. Or bite him. Or both.’
Clenching his jaw, Florian shifted his weight with purpose, every muscle in his body coiled like a spring. His hand twitched at his side, fingers itching to make a move. Whether it was a shove, a punch, or a knee aimed squarely at the man’s groin, he didn’t care anymore. If this was how it was going to go, so be it. He’d make damn sure this bastard wouldn’t know what hit him.
His thoughts raced, but his body stayed calm, deliberate. He adjusted his stance slightly, the soles of his boots pressing firmly against the polished floor. ’Alright, just one clean hit...’ His mind repeated the plan like a mantra as the man’s smug face hovered too close for comfort. ’Let him double over, then run. Easy.’
But just as Florian prepared to strike, the sharp sound of someone clearing their throat shattered the moment. The noise cut through the tense silence like a knife, freezing both of them in place.
"Pardon me, Lord Flameheart." The voice was smooth, low, and laced with icy authority. "May I ask what exactly you’re doing?"
Florian’s heart skipped a beat. That voice. He knew that voice. Relief mixed with frustration flooded his chest as he whipped his head toward the source. Standing just a few feet away, framed by the dim light of the corridor, was a figure he recognized all too well.
"Lucius!" Florian’s voice came out sharp, a mix of exasperation and relief. His chest heaved as the tension in his body didn’t fully dissipate. "There you fucking are!"