CHAPTER 511: ’THE NIGHT THAT WILL CHANGE EVERYTHING.’

Hendrix lifted the earrings from the box with careful fingers, the golden pieces catching the faint light, their delicate shine almost unreal in the dim room.

Slowly—deliberately—he reached for Florian’s ear. His movements were smooth, almost practiced, yet Florian could feel it: the slightest tremor running through Hendrix’s hand, a crack in the mask of confidence he wore so easily.

’He’s nervous...’

The thought hit harder than it should have. Hendrix always carried himself with polished arrogance, with that dangerous charm that disarmed and unsettled in equal measure.

But right now—leaning close, his breath brushing against Florian’s skin, his touch hesitant—Florian could see through the veneer.

The soft, sensible prince the novel once spoke of was bleeding through the cracks. The truth of him, not the mask.

The earring clicked softly into place. Hendrix lingered there, fingers hovering as if reluctant to pull away, before finally moving to the other ear.

Florian sat frozen, his breath shallow, letting the other man work in silence.

And again—he felt it. Hendrix’s focus, his restraint, the quiet reverence in the way he moved. As though Florian were glass, fragile, breakable, precious.

’He really would have been perfect for the original Florian...’

The thought made his chest tighten unexpectedly, a sharp ache he didn’t know what to do with.

When Hendrix finished, he finally drew back, just enough to look at him properly. His smile was gentle now, stripped of all mockery, his eyes softer than Florian had ever seen them.

"Beautiful," he said, voice low, unguarded. "Even more beautiful than I imagined."

’Really, the original Florian should be the one hearing this.’

Florian blinked at him, startled by the weight of those words.

He didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

Just stared at him, heart hammering far too fast, as though trying to decipher what he was supposed to feel.

The smile on Hendrix’s lips faltered when the silence stretched. Concern flickered in his gaze. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I..." Florian’s lips parted, but no clear words came.

’What do I even want to say?’

The truth pressed at his chest, suffocating him. He wanted to speak of the original Florian. Wanted to admit that he wasn’t the same person

Hendrix thought he was. Perhaps he even wanted to tell Hendrix everything.

But that would mean betraying Heinz.

’Am I willing to betray Heinz... for the sake of Florian?’

The question rattled in his mind, clawing for an answer.

Before he could think further, Hendrix’s expression shifted, sharp and alert. His head tilted, as if catching something Florian could not. "Someone’s outside the door," he murmured, his voice suddenly low and urgent.

Florian stiffened. "What?"

Hendrix’s lips pressed into a line. "I have to go."

A knock thundered against the wood, sharp and clear, breaking the air like a blade.

"Your Highness? It’s me. Are you ready to go?"

Florian’s eyes widened. "Cashew?"

’Ready to go?’

His voice was barely a whisper. "Didn’t he just leave—?"

"To avoid being caught by my brother," Hendrix cut in, his tone clipped. His eyes lingered on Florian’s face one last time. "I placed a barrier to conceal myself, but... the time inside doesn’t move the same as outside. Which means..."

Florian’s stomach dropped. ’The ball—’

Hendrix’s mouth quirked into a faint smile, tinged with bitterness. "The ball must be starting soon."

"Wait, what—" Florian reached out instinctively, desperate to stop him, but in the space of a blink, Hendrix was gone. The air where he stood shimmered faintly, as if disturbed by an invisible ripple.

The barrier collapsed, dissolving in silence.

The door creaked open almost immediately.

Cashew stepped fully into the room, the fabric of his attire shifting like rippling water under the faint light.

’Now that’s new.’

It was still dyed in his signature purples and greens, but the design was different—layered robes with sweeping hems, intricate embroidery stitched like winding vines of silver thread.

It resembled Cashew’s usual uniform as Florian’s attendant, but this one was just a bit fancier.

’I’m guessing this is Floramatrian inspired...’

Florian’s heart was still thrumming from Hendrix’s sudden disappearance, but Cashew’s brightness seemed to pierce through the heaviness like sunlight breaking through a storm cloud.

Cashew’s eyes found him, and his expression softened, awestruck. "Your Highness..." His voice faltered into something almost reverent. "You really do look so radiant today... and you even added pretty earrings."

’He noticed them immediately.’

Florian blinked, frozen. Heat crept into his ears, burning faintly with the memory of Hendrix’s steady fingers fastening those very earrings, his breath brushing close.

Before he could muster a reply, a small sound stirred from the bed.

Azure gave a groggy croak, tiny wings unfurling stiffly before drooping again. The little dragon blinked sluggishly, his bright eyes widening when they fell on Cashew.

Cashew let out a soft laugh, warm and surprised. "You were asleep?"

His steps were light, practiced in silence yet filled with cheer. In one smooth motion, he leaned down and scooped the little dragon into his arms.

Azure squirmed briefly, then settled without protest, curling against Cashew’s chest with another soft yawn.

Florian’s lips parted slightly. ’Right... I almost forgot Azure was still asleep because of Hendrix’s barrier.’

Cashew ran his fingers along Azure’s smooth, glittering scales with such care that it looked almost instinctive, his expression softened into something tender.

Then, lifting his gaze back to Florian, he gave a faint bow of his head. "His Majesty is waiting for you, Your Highness. The guests are already arriving."

Florian’s pulse skipped. "The guests...?"

Cashew nodded quickly, excitement flickering in his eyes. "Yes."

Florian’s brows knit. "What about the ones from other kingdoms?"

"They are already gathered at the capital," Cashew explained smoothly.

He adjusted Azure slightly in his arms, the dragon chirping in faint protest before settling again. "But since they are not of our own, tradition dictates they must wait. They will enter one by one—only after His Majesty and you, the birthday celebrant, have made your appearance. Then they may step forward and present their gifts."

’Oh... I didn’t know that.’

The weight of it sank into his chest. Not only was tonight a celebration—it was a stage. All eyes would be on him.

His hands curled against his thighs, hidden by the folds of his outfit.

"...Let’s go, then." His voice came out steadier than he expected. He pushed himself to his feet, heart pounding with both excitement and a gnawing edge of nerves.

Cashew brightened instantly, his grin sharp and confident, as though nothing could go wrong. Azure gave a soft trill from his arms, as if echoing that same encouragement.

’This is it...’ Florian thought, drawing a breath that felt heavier than any he’d taken before.

The night of the ball.

The night that might change everything.