CHAPTER 452: ’INITIATE THE PLAN.’

Mister didn’t answer right away.

He simply crossed his arms over his chest, his posture relaxed but unreadable. "...How is he?"

Cashew narrowed his eyes. He knew exactly who Mister meant—Florian.But since Mister had ignored his question, Cashew didn’t see the need to answer either.

Instead, his voice tightened. "Where were you, Mister?" he demanded. "His Highness got kidnapped. I was looking everywhere for you."

His hands curled into fists at his sides.

"You can go wherever you want. You’re always around here, always watching. So why couldn’t you save him?"

His voice cracked slightly at the end. He tried not to let the guilt show, but it slipped through anyway.

"I had to rely on..." His voice dipped bitterly. "...him."

’Him’—being Heinz.

Mister finally sighed. A weary, long breath that seemed heavier than the words that followed.

"I wasn’t here when it happened," he said quietly. "Remember what I told you...? That I was looking for something?"

Cashew’s breath caught. That vague thing. The thing Mister never really talked about—never specified—just hinted at. A thing so important that it kept him lurking around the palace for weeks.

"When Florian was kidnapped," Mister continued, "I was... retrieving the item I needed. For us to move forward with the plan."

Cashew’s heart thudded in his chest.

The plan.

He didn’t say a word.

"I didn’t even know he was in trouble until after I returned," Mister said, his voice low. "And by that time... he was already back."

He met Cashew’s eyes for the first time since appearing.

"Trust me, Cashew. I have so many regrets. But what matters now is this."

Mister slowly pulled something from his coat. A folded sheet—no, not just paper.

A document.

Cashew leaned in, cautiously taking it from Mister’s hand. He scanned the contents quickly—his eyes widening with every line his gaze devoured.

"That’s..." Cashew’s breath hitched. "Why... why did you need this?"

He looked up, a thousand questions suddenly racing through his mind. His voice dropped, trembling.

"Who are you?"

It was the first time he had dared to ask that.

And for the first time, the moment the question left his lips, something changed.

The blur—that strange haze that always obscured Mister’s face from Cashew’s view—began to fade.

Bit by bit.

Until finally, the veil lifted.

And Cashew saw him.

Truly saw him.

His eyes widened in disbelief, and he instinctively stepped back, a hand over his mouth.

"You... why do you look... you’re—"

"Let’s initiate the plan, Cashew."

✧༺ ⏱︎ ༻✧

"You seem tired, Your Highness."

Florian turned his head slightly, glancing at the boy walking beside him.

Cashew was looking up at him, his expression neutral—calm, almost—but something in his eyes made Florian pause for just a second.

"A bit," Florian replied, exhaling softly as his gaze drifted forward again. "Working with Drizelous can get really tiring because of how eccentric he is."

A small chuckle escaped his lips, despite the fatigue in his voice. He was happy. Drizelous had been overwhelming—but in a good way.

Cashew smiled faintly. "That’s nice, Your Highness. So... are you excited to see the princesses again?"

Right.

They were on their way to meet Athena and Scarlett—to discuss plans for the upcoming ball. Both princesses had mentioned they’d prepared presentations, full of decoration ideas and concepts for the event.

"Of course I am," Florian said, his eyes lifting a bit as he spoke. "It seems they’re very excited to be planning the ball as well."

He looked ahead, but let his eyes flicker toward Cashew briefly.

’Hmm.’

"That’s good, Your Highness," Cashew said.

"Yup." Florian nodded once, then fell into a brief silence.

But after a moment...

"...What about you, Cashew? Anything bothering you?" he asked, his tone light but careful.

Cashew blinked, clearly caught off guard. "Huh?"

It was a valid question, though.

When Cashew had returned earlier with his lunch, Florian had noticed something—off. Subtle, but unmistakable. Not just Cashew’s quiet demeanor, but the fact that Azure was asleep.

Deeply asleep.

Too deeply.

Cashew had explained that Azure had been running around and got tired, but Florian couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. He’d wanted to press more, but Drizelous had been there, and then there was the scheduled meeting with the princesses. The day had moved on.

But now, that lingering feeling returned, gnawing quietly in the back of his mind.

Florian couldn’t forget the high—very high—possibility that Cashew knew about the masked man.

And right now, he wasn’t going to take any chances.

No matter how much he trusted Cashew. Because once... he had trusted Alexandria too.

And she had betrayed him.

"It seems like something’s on your mind," Florian added, tone gentle, but his eyes never leaving Cashew’s face. Every microexpression, every blink, every twitch—he watched them all.

Cashew tried to smile.

But Florian saw it.

The slight twitch of his finger.

’He’s nervous.’

"Just... not feeling well," Cashew said.

That’s a mistake.

Because Cashew never

admitted to being unwell. Not unless it was serious.

Even if it was serious, Cashew still wouldn’t say anything knowing Florian make him rest.

"Oh?" Florian said lightly. "Do you want to go back to your room?"

That made Cashew freeze.

Florian caught it—the subtle catch in his step, the immediate widening of his eyes.

"N-No, it’s... it’s fine, Your Highness," Cashew stammered quickly.

"Really?" Florian tilted his head slightly, still watching him. "You never usually say you’re sick, so I assume you must be feeling really sick."

Cashew was sweating now.

His eyes darted restlessly—toward the walls, the floor, anywhere but at Florian.

And that alone confirmed it.

Florian didn’t want to beat around the bush anymore.

His brows furrowed slightly, his expression turning serious. "Cashew, tell me the truth."

Cashew stiffened.

"H-Huh... what... what is it, Your Highness?" he asked, forcing a shaky smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

"Do you know a ma—ah!"

Before Florian could finish his question, he collided with someone.

The sudden impact made him stumble slightly. Cashew gasped, instinctively reaching out, about to check on him—but stopped.

Florian caught the look in Cashew’s eyes.

They weren’t focused on him.

They were locked on the person Florian had bumped into.

’What?’

Florian felt it then—arms catching him gently, steadying his balance.

Large, warm hands. Familiar.

"Pardon me," Florian said automatically, steadying his breath. "I wasn’t watching where I was goi—"

But he froze.

A low chuckle escaped the man’s lips.

And everything inside Florian stilled.

That voice.

"It is my fault, Your Highness," the man said smoothly, tone light, almost teasing. "I was watching where I was going..."

Then, with unmistakable amusement, he added—

"But I wanted to bump into you."

No fucking way.