CHAPTER 457: ’FOCUS ON THE RIGHT THING.’

’Eh? Isn’t he... focusing on the wrong thing?’

Florian blinked, eyebrows furrowed as he looked up at Heinz, whose entire expression had morphed into something furious in the blink of an eye. Without hesitation, Heinz dropped to one knee before him, grabbing him firmly by the arms.

"Answer me," Heinz demanded, his voice sharp and filled with tension. "He kissed your forehead? When was this?"

Florian blinked again, still trying to keep up.

"Yes? Did... I not mention it?" he replied, uncertainty lacing his voice. "During the second time the strange man approached me, when you, uh..." He glanced awkwardly at Cashew, who stood frozen nearby with a look of concern. "...inspected me for any magical marks, or whatever that was called..."

Heinz’s eyes narrowed dangerously. The brief flicker of surprise on his face was quickly replaced by something far darker.

"You didn’t mention that he kissed your forehead."

Florian shifted uncomfortably. "Well... I didn’t think... it was worth mentioning...?"

That was the wrong answer.

Heinz looked scandalized, utterly and completely. His crimson eyes flared with supernatural brightness, and with a low rumble, cracks began to snake across the marble floor beneath them like angry veins of lightning.

"Not worth mentioning?" Heinz repeated, voice simmering with rage.

"Your Majesty..." Florian said hesitantly, unsure what to make of the king’s sudden outburst.

Cashew wisely stepped back, distancing himself from the bed as the pressure in the room grew heavier.

"I don’t understand why you need to know—"

Heinz didn’t let him finish.

In one swift motion, Heinz cupped Florian’s face, his grip surprisingly gentle despite the fury behind it. He pushed aside the shorter strands of hair that fell across Florian’s forehead, revealing the exact spot the strange man had touched.

Then, to Florian’s and Cashew’s shock, Heinz leaned forward and pressed his lips against Florian’s forehead.

Once.

Twice.

A third time.

Then again.

And again.

And again.

Six times in total, slow and deliberate.

When he finally pulled back, Florian sat completely frozen, his cheeks burning red with heat. He couldn’t speak—he wasn’t even sure he could breathe.

Even Cashew looked like he’d just witnessed something he absolutely wasn’t supposed to.

"Y-Your Highness?" Cashew asked tentatively, his voice small. "Are...you okay?"

Florian couldn’t answer. He was too embarrassed—mortified even—that Heinz had done that... and right in front of Cashew!

And Heinz? He didn’t even look the slightest bit ashamed. He just kept staring at him, eyes narrowed and unblinking, as if he were trying to set his face on fire through sheer intensity alone.

"I’m going to kill him," Heinz muttered darkly under his breath.

That snapped Florian back to reality.

"No! Nope, no." Florian practically stumbled as he stood up, still flustered. "Your Majesty, why are you acting like this? You’re acting so..."

He stopped himself short. He couldn’t bring himself to say it. Not aloud.

"So what?" Heinz replied sharply, the challenge in his tone laced with arrogance, eyes still fixed on him.

"So immature!" Florian finally burst out, the frustration spilling out of him in full. "You’re acting so immature!"

"Immature?" Heinz repeated incredulously, his brows rising as if personally offended. "You said it yourself—you believe Hendrix is the strange man, which means he’s been targeting you and I. And what’s our other possible choice?"

Florian groaned, rubbing his temples. ’He’s being so unbelievably stupid right now.’

He turned to Cashew, who was still standing near the wall, visibly concerned and doing his best to stay invisible.

"Cashew, can you please leave the room for a moment?" Florian said, his tone firm and clipped. "I need to talk to His Majesty about something private."

Cashew hesitated, his gaze flickering uncertainly between the two of them. Tension hung thick in the air, but after a brief pause, he bowed his head respectfully.

"Yes, Your Highness," he said quietly, before turning and slipping out of the room, closing the door softly behind him.

Florian watched the door until it shut completely, the click of the latch sounding louder than it should have in the silence that followed.

Only then did he exhale, long and steady, before turning to face Heinz directly.

"Tell me what you remember about Hendrix."

Heinz’s brows furrowed in confusion. "Why does this matter?"

"Just tell me," Florian replied, his voice steady—unshaken, even though he was addressing the king without a trace of deference.

Heinz blinked, visibly surprised by the tone. Florian wasn’t being careful or gentle with his words—not this time. But something in his expression must have struck a chord, because Heinz didn’t argue.

Instead, he answered, almost flatly. "He’s annoying. And he’s weak."

"Right. You said that already. I remember. You said it wasn’t possible for him to be the strange man because he couldn’t use magic."

"Yes. He’s that pathetic."

Florian’s jaw tensed. "Your Majesty, Hendrix was using magic. He concealed his face. He teleported in and out of the palace. He used a kind of spell that triggered the original Florian’s memories. The same kind of magic..." He hesitated, the words catching in his throat, but he forced them out anyway. "...that my kidnappers used to torture me."

Heinz straightened, taken aback. "They used magic to torture you? Even besides the—"

"The reason they stabbed my thigh was to break me out of the spell." Florian’s voice grew quieter, but firmer with each word. "They had magic that dragged me into the worst memories of the original Florian."

He didn’t elaborate further. ’One of those memories being the pregnancy...’ But that was something he wasn’t ready to dive into again.

Not with how Heinz was already acting.

Not now.

"It was a kind of magic they got from the underground," Florian continued, his brows pinched as he tried to focus. "I... I don’t remember everything clearly, but it felt similar to what Hendrix used. And I don’t need to be a Concordian or an Arcanior to recognize when someone’s using highly advanced magic. The man who kidnapped me was skilled—very skilled."

He closed his eyes, drawing in a deep breath to steady himself. Then, after a pause, he spoke again—soft, but certain.

"And there’s another thing."

Heinz said nothing. He was still. Processing. Maybe for once, actually listening.

Florian opened his eyes and looked directly at him. "It seems Hendrix might also have memories of his first life."