CHAPTER 432: ’TELL ME ABOUT YOURSELF?’

"How are you feeling now?"

Florian was curled up on Heinz’s lap, his body trembling as the hiccups overtook him. His eyes were swollen, cheeks streaked with tears that just wouldn’t stop falling. He had been crying for over an hour now—loud at first, then quietly, brokenly, like something inside him had finally cracked open.

The waterworks just wouldn’t stop.

It wasn’t like him at all. But every time he remembered Luluwing—remembered that small, fluttering body he’d come to love—and all the things he’d gone through in this world, the grief welled up again.

Heinz didn’t speak much. He simply held him close, arms steady, one hand gently rubbing soothing circles on Florian’s back, as if this were routine. As if he was used to Florian collapsing like this.

"I-I..." Florian croaked, voice hoarse and raw. "I...feel fine. I’m..."

"You don’t have to lie, Florian," Heinz murmured softly, a little stern but kind. "You can barely speak. Just... calm down. We don’t have to move. You don’t have to do anything until you’re ready."

Florian said nothing.

He couldn’t even look up. His vision was blurred with tears, and the only thing he could see clearly was Heinz’s chest—right in front of him, solid and warm, since Heinz was holding him so tightly.

There was barely enough room to breathe. Just enough to exist. Not enough to escape.

His body shook as another sob escaped. "I don’t know what to do," he whispered. "I was fine... earlier. I... It’s not even my butterfly. It’s Florian’s... I’m... I’m supposed to go back to my own... to my own..."

’To my own world. To my own life. Where none of this was supposed to matter, where this is just a random story I’ve mostly forgotten about.’

Maybe it was because Cashew was always by his side now. Maybe it was because he hadn’t left yet—because he hadn’t had to say goodbye that it hasn’t sunk into him yet.

But Luluwing dying... it hit him like a blade to the heart. It wasn’t just a butterfly. It was the symbol of everything he’d quietly become attached to.

’I didn’t even realize how much I’ve grown to love this world... these people.’

He had always told himself he’d leave, but he wanted to do it knowing that the people he had come to care about would be happy. That the original Florian would be okay. That Cashew would smile without fear. That everything would be settled.

’But now... I don’t even know if I can go.’

He had to though.

Kaz was waiting for him, and the original Florian was probably stuck inside this body unable to speak, unable to have free will.

And now, crying like this—it frightened him. He hadn’t expected it. He hadn’t expected something like this would be what finally broke him.

He knew he cared. He just didn’t know he cared this much.

Heinz still said nothing. He just kept rubbing his back slowly, patiently, even when Florian began to sob harder again. The way Heinz handled him—so gently, so reassuringly—only made the sadness worse.

It made him feel safe. And that made it harder to keep everything in.

Every gentle stroke. Every faint, protective squeeze. It all told Florian: You are allowed to cry.

And it broke him further.

Because—

"Tell me about yourself," Heinz suddenly said, his voice low.

Florian stirred a little, blinking through the haze. "What?"

"I know you as Florian. But... since you asked me to have the God send you back to where you’re from, to who you really are..." Heinz’s eyes searched his. "Then tell me. Who are you, really?"

His voice was soft. Curious. As if he wasn’t pressing him, but opening a door.

"I’ve been curious for some time," Heinz added. "And it might help distract you."

"That... why would you want to know about me?" Florian asked, his voice soft and hoarse from crying. "Who I was before I became Florian doesn’t really matter... Your Majesty."

He flinched slightly after he said it—his tone had been too flat, too dismissive, even bordering on disrespectful. He hadn’t meant for it to come out that way, but the exhaustion and the ache in his chest made it hard to sound polite.

Heinz only chuckled in response. A deep, amused sound that rumbled in his chest. "Humor me," he said lightly.

Florian hesitated, chewing on his lower lip. It tasted of salt and grief. "Do you really want to know, Your Majesty?"

"Mhm," Heinz hummed, his chest still rising and falling in a steady rhythm against Florian’s cheek. It was comforting. Too comforting.

Florian’s eyes flicked up—just barely. "Perhaps you should try and figure it out," he murmured, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. He didn’t know why he said it. Maybe it was deflection, maybe it was mischief... or maybe he just wanted to see how Heinz would respond.

There was a pause. Then—

A sudden jolt of movement.

Florian’s face shifted against Heinz’s chest as he felt it shake—soft at first, then stronger.

Heinz wasn’t chuckling. He was laughing.

Full-on laughing.

"That’s..." Heinz managed between laughs, "...are you truly doing that right now? Really? While you’re a crying mess?"

Florian blinked in surprise... then let out a weak, tear-choked laugh of his own. "There’s no better time, Your Majesty."

’What am I even doing...?’ Florian thought to himself. ’Why am I teasing him like this?’

But the laughter—his and Heinz’s together—was strangely freeing. Cathartic. Like some of the weight pressing on his heart had been lifted, just for a moment.

Heinz laughed even harder, his arms pulling Florian in tighter. "Ah. You’re unbelievable," he said fondly, shaking his head. His voice was warm—almost too warm. Too human for the tyrant Florian kept insisting he was.

If Florian didn’t know better—if he hadn’t seen the bloodstained smile, the ruthless eyes in court, the whispers of fear that followed the king’s name—he would’ve thought Heinz was simply... charming.

His voice alone was enough to make hearts flutter. But that laugh?

It was unfair.

’If only you weren’t a monster,’ Florian thought. ’You’d be dangerously perfect.’

They stayed like that for a few precious minutes—laughing, holding each other, the earlier tension beginning to fade just a little. Florian’s hiccups had subsided. His eyes were still red and puffy, but the storm inside him had quieted, even if only temporarily.

Then, slowly, Heinz’s laughter faded.

His expression softened as he gently patted Florian’s back. "Be serious now, Florian," he said, voice low but kind. He shifted a little, pushing Florian back just enough to see his face. "I do want to know more about who you really are."

Florian found himself staring into those deep red eyes—eyes that were usually cold, calculating, unreadable. But now... they looked sincere.

And when Heinz smiled at him—soft, genuine, expectant—something strange happened.

Florian’s heart skipped a beat.

’Why...is he looking at me like that?"

He bit his tongue, grounding himself. But Heinz’s gaze didn’t waver.

"Tell me about yourself." He repeated his earlier question.