CHAPTER 438: ’HOPE FOR THE ORIGINAL.’

"That settles it then," Lucius announced, clasping his hands together, his voice laced with calm finality. His smile was small, but unmistakably satisfied—like a man who believed he’d just successfully extinguished the quiet sparks before a fire.

’He seems pleased with himself,’ Florian thought, lowering his arms from where they’d been crossed tightly across his chest.

Still, he had to give Lucius some credit.

Had it been anyone else, especially Heinz, Florian would have continued arguing. He wasn’t going to sit by and let himself be dangled like bait again—not after everything.

But Lucius...

Lucius was loyal to Heinz, yes, but he had also been discreetly protective of Florian.

Subtle with his warnings. Soft with his concern. And with Florian’s current fragile position, Lucius was one of the few he trusted to speak up if danger crept near.

Still, that suggestion of his—inviting his family...

Florian hadn’t been on board. Not at all.

’Why would I want them here? Why would I want the original Florian’s family to see me?’

It felt pointless. Worse, it felt wrong.

He remembered some of the memories—the hazy recollections while he’d been getting tortured when he was kidnapped. The distant echoes of pain, of silence, of disappointment.

Especially the way Asher—Florian’s father—looked at his son with cold indifference, sometimes with thinly veiled contempt.

It had been just another weight pressing on Florian’s already overburdened chest.

There was already too much to deal with. Too much pain to unpack. All he wanted—all he ever wanted—was to fix what he could before it was time to leave. To give some kind of peace to the people who mattered.

Lucius.

Lancelot.

Cashew.

And... the original Florian.

That was what this was always about.

Fixing his

life.

Making it better. Making sure he no longer got hurt, or get executed. Even if it was just a little.

But then the idea struck him. Slowly. Quietly. Like a whisper inside his chest.

’What if... this is another way to fix things?’

Florian’s family. His mother, his older sister.

’There’s nothing in the novel about Florian’s family life besides the fact that his father chose him among all his sisters to be part of Heinz’s harem.’

It was Asher who had poisoned the air. Asher who made Florian feel like a curse instead of a child in the memories that he saw.

’But his mother... his sister... maybe they’re different. Maybe if they knew the truth, they would want him back.’

It had always felt strange—that it was the father, Asher, who made the final decision. Who cast the original Florian aside like he was nothing more than an inconvenience.

When it should’ve been the mother—her choice, as she was the matriarch.

The queen.

Especially when it came to an only son like Florian.

’Asher did threaten Florian not to tell his mother about getting punished. So..’

Florian’s mother might have not gotten word of it until it was too late.

And the enemy back then had been Concordia—how much of a choice did she really have?

Maybe... she never even knew the full truth.

’Maybe she wanted him back all this time.’

And if that was true—if there was even the smallest sliver of hope left in that possibility—then Florian had a plan.

Maybe—just maybe—he could convince Heinz.

Convince him to let go.

To let the real Florian return home to Floramatria.

Without bloodshed. Without war. Without more heartbreak.

Just a quiet goodbye.

’I’m sure Heinz won’t have too much of a problem with it... right? Once everything has been settled.’

Florian tried to reassure himself, but the thought lingered like a shadow he couldn’t quite shake.

Heinz—right now—was indulging in him more than he had ever indulged the original Florian.

And it wasn’t just attention.

It was physical. Intimate. Carnal.

Heinz had once been known for his closeness with the princesses—touches that were public and private, charming smiles paired with veiled seduction.

But in this second life, he’d shut them all out. Cold. Distant.

Wary.

His trust had shattered somewhere along the timeline. And with that loss came the withdrawal of his affections.

The princesses, once adored, were now threats under surveillance.

But Florian—he—was different. Something in Heinz was okay with him.

And so, he found a way to be intimate again.

That would be Florian’s fault, he realizes now he must’ve opened something he shouldn’t have. That’s

’So, he’s just... sexually frustrated.’

The possibility was hard to ignore.

’Maybe he’s just depraved, and I’m a convenient outlet. A distraction. A toy in the shape of something new.’

Because it wasn’t love. Not really.

It was want. Desperation. Hunger.

And Florian knew—knew

—that the only reason Heinz was showing him this kind of attention was because he wasn’t acting like the original Florian.

He was more composed.

And not in love with Heinz.

But once he was gone—once Aden’s soul finally slipped from this body and the real Florian took its place again...

What would be left?

A shell of a prince still hopelessly in love with a man who never truly saw him.

A prince who would return to his depression, to his heartbreak, to the haunting ache of unrequited affection.

’And Heinz won’t love him.’

Not ever.

So maybe this plan—this gamble—was the only real gift Florian could give.

If the Queen and Crown Princess of Floramatria truly cared—if they still loved him, if they regretted what happened—then there was still hope.

Maybe they would take him home.

’Back where he belongs. Back to a kingdom that never really fought for him... but might still welcome him if I make them see.’

And if they wanted him...

If they truly wanted him back...

Then Florian would fight for it. He would convince Heinz.

"Your Highness, what do you think?" Lucius’s voice broke through the fog of Florian’s thoughts, pulling him back to the present like a sudden splash of cold water.

Florian blinked and looked up. Lucius was gazing at him patiently, lips curved in a gentle smile, while Heinz stood beside him—silent, watchful, eyes sharper than they had been a moment ago.

Both of them were waiting.

’Crap. I forgot we were still talking about the ball.’ Florian realized, his stomach tightening.

He quickly forced a smile onto his face, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

"What was that? Sorry, I was spacing out," he said, keeping his tone light, casual—as if his heart hadn’t just been tangled in a thousand quiet thoughts and deeper worries.

Lucius, ever polite, nodded. "It is no problem at all."

But Heinz didn’t speak.

He didn’t have to.

His narrowed eyes said enough—curious, suspicious.

Florian ignored it.

He had to.

"I was wondering," Lucius continued, still gentle but with a little more weight in his tone now, "if you would like to let Princess Athena and Princess Scarlett help... or be involved in the planning with you."

Oh.