Florian wanted to scream.
For reasons he couldn't comprehend, the dynamic between him and Lucius had completely flipped from earlier. Instead of Lucius walking ahead like before, Florian now found himself leading the way, with Lucius deliberately lagging behind.
And it wasn't because Florian was walking too slow—no, it was Lucius who was purposefully walking slower.
The reason?
He didn't fucking know.
All he knew was that he could practically feel Lucius's eyes boring into him, following every step he took. His exposed back and the gaping hole at his stomach made it worse, leaving him feeling completely vulnerable.
'Why is he walking so slow? Did he send Cashew back on purpose? What is he planning? Fuck, this is going too fast,' Florian thought, his hand instinctively moving to touch his neck—a nervous habit he'd had for as long as he could remember.
He wanted to say something, to break the tension hanging in the air like a heavy cloud. But what could he possibly say?
'Hey, so I know this body has been trying to get you to do dirty things with him, and you're probably pent-up by now, but I'm not that guy anymore, so please leave me alone.'
He wished he could just blurt it out, but he couldn't. Not here, not now, and definitely not to Lucius Darkthorn.
In a world like this, where he barely understood the rules and his knowledge of the novel was incomplete, the stakes were too high. Things had already changed from what he remembered, and he couldn't risk getting labeled a lunatic or worse—executed—for trying to worm his way out of the harem.
'As much as I'm not really Florian,' he thought grimly, 'I still have to play along. At least until I figure out how to survive this.'
Florian's mind drifted back to what he knew about this world. Heinz Obsidian, after overthrowing his father, had become a tyrant—greedy, power-hungry, and hell-bent on expanding his empire. To avoid outright war, he demanded that each kingdom pledge their loyalty to Concordia by offering a princess to his harem.
But Florian wasn't a princess.
He was offered in place of his sister, the crown princess of their kingdom. Their homeland, unique for its matriarchal structure, had one defining feature that made Florian's inclusion in the harem possible: the men could bear children.
'Oh my fucking god,' Florian thought, his hand instinctively moving to touch his stomach. 'That means I have a fucking uterus—'
"Your Highness."
Florian jumped, startled out of his spiraling thoughts as he felt a hand gently touch his back. The unexpected contact sent a jolt through his entire body, and he turned around abruptly.
Big mistake.
In his haste, Florian tripped over his own foot. His arms flailed, and he felt himself losing balance.
"Oh fuck," Florian mumbled under his breath, squeezing his eyes shut in resignation. He braced for the impact, fully prepared to hit the ground.
But instead of the hard, cold floor, Florian felt strong arms wrap around his waist, catching him mid-fall.
'No. No, no, no. This is Romantic Scene 101,' he thought, dread pooling in his stomach. 'The classic "oh no, I fell" trope where the male lead catches the protagonist, and then they stare at each other for an awkwardly long time. Please, please, don't—'
"Your Highness, are you okay?"
'FUCK.'
Florian's eyes snapped open, and his worst fears were realized.
Lucius was holding him effortlessly, his arms steady and secure around Florian's waist. His expression, while typically unreadable, showed the faintest hint of concern as his sharp, golden eyes scanned Florian's face.
Florian wanted to die as stared up at Lucius, mortification coursing through his veins.
The butler's hands were still wrapped firmly around his waist, steady and unyielding. He could feel Lucius's hand against his exposed skin, right where one of the tunic's ridiculous cutouts left his side bare.
"I-I'm fine!" Florian blurted, his voice cracking slightly. He wriggled, trying to free himself, but the motion only made him more aware of how close they were. His palm smacked against Lucius's chest in his frantic attempt to push himself away. "You can let go now. Really. Let go!"
Lucius's golden eyes blinked down at him, calm and unreadable. "You almost fell."
"Yes, I know!" Florian snapped, his face heating as he flailed in an attempt to step back. "And thank you for catching me, but I'm fine now! Totally fine! Let's just... move on!"
'I did not live twenty-five straight years as a virgin, surviving all kinds of awkward dates and high school locker-room nonsense, just to be manhandled by another man in another world!'
Lucius did not immediately release him. His gaze flicked briefly to Florian's flushed face, then down to his trembling frame. His hands remained steady, his touch polite yet impossibly firm.
"Your heart is racing," Lucius observed, his tone devoid of judgment.
'Oh, for the love of—' Florian's thoughts spiraled as his cheeks flushed a deeper red. "Of course it's racing! I almost fell, and you're—you're holding me!"
Lucius raised a single brow, the motion so subtle it almost went unnoticed. His grip finally loosened, allowing Florian to stumble back a step, adjusting his ludicrous outfit in a desperate attempt to regain some dignity.
Behind them, Florian heard it. The unmistakable sound of poorly concealed giggles.
He snapped his head to the side, and there they were: two maids peeking out from behind a column, their eyes wide and filled with mischief. Their flushed faces and whispered exchanges made it abundantly clear they had seen everything.
Florian's stomach dropped. 'Oh no. Oh no, no, no. They saw. They definitely saw.'
The petite maid with chestnut hair curtsied, though the twinkle in her eye betrayed her amusement. "Apologies, Your Highness. We didn't mean to intrude."
"Uh-huh," Florian deadpanned, his voice strained. His brain scrambled for a way—any way—to salvage the situation.
The taller maid with auburn curls chimed in, her lips curving into a sly smile. "It was a very graceful save, my lord," she said, addressing Lucius with a slight nod of approval.
'Oh, are they actually teasing us?' Florian could practically feel his soul leaving his body.
Lucius, ever composed, glanced at the maids briefly before returning his attention to Florian. "Shall we continue, Your Highness?"
"Yes! Let's!" Florian blurted, eager to flee the scene of his humiliation. He turned sharply to walk away but, in his haste, caught his foot on the hem of his tunic. He stumbled forward, nearly falling again.
The muffled giggles from behind him grew louder.
"Careful," Lucius said, his tone even, though something about the faint twitch of his lips made Florian's blood boil. Was he smiling?
'How can he find this situation amusing?'
"I am careful!" Florian snapped, spinning around to glare at him. "This tunic is just—it's stupid! Who designed this thing? Who thought, 'Hey, let's make an outfit that's basically a glittery napkin with holes all over it?'"
Lucius's brow lifted ever so slightly. "You approved the design yourself, Your Highness."
Florian froze. His life flashed before his eyes.
"I—I did?" he laughed nervously, tugging at the straps of the offending outfit. 'Fuck, yeah. I forgot. Florian's outfits were MADE to seduce.'
Behind him, the chestnut-haired maid snorted audibly. She quickly disguised it as a cough.
'They're still here?'
"Do you mind?" Florian barked, glaring at her. "Don't you have... I don't know, dusting to do? Or a floor to scrub?"
The maid curtsied again, this time with an air of faux innocence. "Apologies, Your Highness. We were just passing through."
"Passing through where?" Florian gestured dramatically to the empty hallway. "There's nothing here but columns, vases, magical stuff, and me!"
Lucius cleared his throat softly, drawing Florian's attention. "Your Highness," he said, his tone calm but with a faint hint of curiosity, "you are acting... rather unusual today."
Florian's stomach flipped. "What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded.
"You are typically silent around the staff," Lucius said plainly. His golden eyes flicked briefly to the giggling maids, then back to Florian. "You've never addressed them so directly before, and...you're usually so demure."
Florian panicked. 'Oh...right. Right. I have to get it together.' His real personality was showing.
"I'm just tired. My head is throbbing from the announcement and from my concussion." Finally, Florian managed to use his 'concussion' to his advantage. He rubbed his temple for added effect. "My emotions... are high."
Lucius narrowed his eyes, his expression a blend of skepticism and curiosity. "Is that so?"
"What? You don't believe me?" Florian challenged, crossing his arms despite the faint tremor in his voice.
The maids nearby gasped audibly, their blushes deepening as they exchanged hurried whispers. Florian caught snippets of their conversation: "Lovers' quarrel," one murmured, barely suppressing a giggle. The other chimed in, "I heard His Highness and Lord Lucius were close, but to see it... oh my!"
Florian's stomach dropped. He opened his mouth to snap at them, but Lucius spoke first.
Lucius turned his head slightly, his gaze as sharp as a blade. The air seemed to chill as he stepped forward, his boots echoing ominously in the hallway. "Your speculation," he said, his tone calm but laced with undeniable authority, "is unnecessary. Return to your duties."
The maids squeaked, bowing hastily. Their faces burned crimson as they scurried away, skirts swishing behind them. Florian watched them disappear around the corner, relief blooming—until faint giggles drifted back down the corridor.
"They're still following us, aren't they?" Florian muttered under his breath, throwing a wary glance over his shoulder.
Lucius remained silent, his expression unreadable. Instead of answering, he gestured for Florian to walk ahead. "Shall we continue?"
Florian groaned internally, his shoulders sagging as he stomped forward. His steps were loud and heavy, a weak attempt at venting his frustration. Behind him, he could feel Lucius's steady presence. Those golden eyes bore into his back, calm yet all-seeing, as though they could peel away every layer of his embarrassment and lay it bare.
And worse? Florian was certain the maids were lurking just out of sight, holding their breath, waiting for his next inevitable misstep.
'These halls have way too many eyes.'