"Pardon? You want me to..." He trailed off before quickly correcting himself. He could not afford to sound uncertain in the presence of the prince.
’It seems he doesn’t want to leave Florian’s side.’
Heinz’s sharp gaze flickered toward Lancelot, noting how the knight barely concealed his reluctance. The moment Heinz had entered the infirmary, he had pulled Lancelot aside. There was no need for him to linger.
"Assist Lucius in searching for the servant responsible. Ensure the guests remain calm and do not panic. If I do not return, find a way to make them leave, even without my presence. And make sure the princesses are safe."
Lancelot looked like he wanted to protest.
"But Your Majesty, why would—"
"Do I have to repeat myself, Lancelot?" Heinz asked, arms crossing over his chest.
Lancelot bowed his head immediately.
"My apologies. I just... I feel responsible for what happened. If I had paid better attention to the servants as I should have, perhaps he wouldn’t have slipped past Prince Florian."
Heinz exhaled slowly through his nose.
’I didn’t tell you on purpose that Florian could potentially be in danger.’
"I will deal with you later. Lysander is already inside, and we will find a way to help Florian. Florian is my responsibility now."
The weight of those words made Lancelot’s eyes widen. Heinz didn’t blame him. Just weeks ago, he acted as if Florian didn’t exist. No matter how much the boy cried, how much he begged for Heinz’s attention, he had ignored him—cold, unyielding, indifferent.
But things were different now.
"Go, Lancelot. Do not waste any more time."
Lancelot hesitated but, bound by both respect and fear, he lowered his head in a final bow.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Without looking back, Heinz waited until Lancelot’s footsteps faded before running a hand through his long hair. Then, without another moment wasted, he stepped inside the infirmary.
The sight that greeted him made him pause.
Florian lay on one of the beds, his back turned, trembling. Near the entrance stood Lysander, the royal healer.
Lysander’s eyes widened as soon as he noticed him.
"M-My King, Your Majesty... You’re here."
Heinz gestured for him to straighten up as he took a step forward, but Lysander quickly moved to block his path.
"Your Majesty, I am afraid you cannot get closer to him."
"Why not?"
Before Lysander could explain, Florian stirred. His head turned at the sound of Heinz’s voice, his flushed face breaking into a radiant, almost delirious smile.
"Y-Your Majesty?"
Heinz stiffened.
Florian’s emerald-green eyes gleamed unnaturally, shaped like hearts.
Lysander swallowed hard.
"I’m afraid the aphrodisiac he took is a strong one. He is completely out of his mind, Your Majesty. He... he wishes to engage in intercourse with anyone who comes near him."
Florian let out a whimper, his breath coming in uneven pants.
"Y-Your Majesty... please, help me... it hurts... please..."
Heinz’s gaze finally fell to his wrists. Shackles. Florian was chained to the bed.
"And you restrained him for this reason?"
Lysander nodded grimly, his hands clasped tightly in front of him as if bracing for judgment.
"I had no choice, Your Majesty."
Heinz’s expression remained carefully neutral, but his golden eyes flickered with something unreadable. A beat of silence passed before he spoke again, his tone even, deliberate.
"Can you fix this? Do you have an antidote? Or can you use magic?"
Lysander hesitated.
The royal physician, who had seen countless horrors—who had treated men gutted on the battlefield, who had reattached severed limbs and pulled dying soldiers back from the brink—was hesitating.
Heinz’s gaze sharpened.
"Speak."
Lysander’s eyes flickered toward Florian’s trembling form before he exhaled slowly, his voice barely above a whisper.
"His Highness’ state... it can only be cured if he receives release."
Heinz stilled.
The words lingered in the air like something toxic, something vile. A slow, creeping sensation twisted in his chest, unfamiliar and unwelcome.
’He needs release?’
"What do you mean by release?" His voice was steady, but colder now, sharper.
Lysander lowered his head.
"It means, Your Majesty... that he must engage in some form of intercourse."
A sharp pause.
Heinz’s fingers curled at his side.
"Can’t..." His voice faltered for the first time, his throat suddenly dry. "Can’t he do that himself?"
Lysander shook his head.
"The aphrodisiac used on him is different. Whoever administered it clearly intended to force His Highness into a situation where he had no choice. This is the type that requires another person’s... assistance."
A heavy silence settled between them.
Heinz had witnessed the worst humanity had to offer. He had seen bodies pile up like discarded dolls on blood-soaked battlefields. He had walked through hell and come back with the scars to prove it.
He had died once.
He had met a god.
He had a mythical pet dragon.
But this?
This was absurd.
His gaze darkened.
"Y-Your Majesty... Your Majesty, please... just touch me."
Florian’s voice was breathy, pleading. It struck something deep in Heinz’s chest, something he didn’t want to name.
Lysander flinched, panic flickering in his eyes.
"Please, Prince Florian, do not say such things to His Majesty!"
Then he turned back to Heinz, desperation lacing his words.
"What do we do, Your Majesty? Who should we ask to help him?"
Heinz didn’t answer.
His gaze remained locked onto Florian, who was straining against his restraints, his wrists red from the struggle. His fevered eyes were clouded, desperate, aching for something he couldn’t fully understand.
Then—
"Heinz."
A single whisper. Barely a breath. But it shattered something within him.
His blood ran cold.
A memory surged forward, unbidden, merciless.
"My dearest Heinz, I loved you. From the moment I saw you, I gave you my heart—even when you didn’t want it. I endured every rejection, every cruel word, just to stay by your side. I would rather have suffered with you than lived without you. But now..."
Tears. Florian’s eyes had been filled with them that day, glistening like shattered glass.
"If I could have one wish, it would be to have never loved you at all. Maybe then, we both could have been happy."
Heinz exhaled sharply, pressing a hand against his temple.
"Fuck."
’Out of all the memories, I remember that?’
A sickening twist of something bitter curled in his stomach.
Lysander shifted uneasily. "Are you alright, Your Majesty?"
Heinz didn’t answer right away. He raised a hand, a silent command for Lysander to stay back.
"I am fine."
He was fine.
But seeing Florian like this was... messing with his head.
’Lucius and Lancelot would gladly help him.’
It would be easy. Simple. Just one word from him, and either of them would come running, eager to do whatever was necessary.
But...