Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight! novel Chapter 423

Chapter 423: ‘Post-Night Clarity.’

"I’m... pregnant?"

Florian’s voice is barely above a whisper, his eyes wide with disbelief. Lysander looks at him, brows furrowing in concern.

"It seems so, Your Highness," he says carefully. "Do you, perhaps, know who the father is? I’m aware of your... relationships with Lord Lucius and Lord Lancelot, but—"

"No. It’s not them." Florian replies, lowering his gaze to his abdomen. His hand drifts down, resting gently over it.

He had shared his bed with Lucius and Lancelot, yes—but never recklessly. He’d always been careful. He never let either finish inside him.

There was only ever one man he allowed that kind of vulnerability with.

"This..."

He should be happy. Shouldn’t he?

Then why did his heart feel like it was caving in?

Lysander lets out a quiet sigh. "Whoever the father is, it’s not my place to pry. But please... you must tell him. And eventually, you’ll need to inform His Majesty. Though..." He hesitates. "I doubt it would trouble him too much. You’re still part of his harem, after all."

But it would trouble Heinz.

Because Heinz was definitely the father.

"Please..." Florian whispers, voice trembling. "Please don’t tell anyone. Not His Majesty, not Lucius, not Lancelot. No one."

Lysander regards him for a long moment. Then, slowly, he bows his head.

"Of course, Your Highness. I may serve as royal physician, but I am still a doctor. Your secret is safe with me."

He stands, hesitates, then places a tentative hand on Florian’s shoulder.

"You have my word."

Florian’s eyes snapped open.

’Fuck.’

His hand flew to his stomach, a reaction born not from instinct, but from the lingering weight of a dream—no, not a dream. A memory.

The original Florian’s yet again.

’He... was pregnant before he died?’ The thought hit him again like a bolt of ice. It hadn’t sunk in the first time he found out because he was under massive stress, but that detail had never been in the novel. Not once.

Why was it in the memories of the first life?

Something really wasn’t right from the moment he saw a drunken Heinz and the original Florian having intercourse.

Things hadn’t been aligning from the start, but this—this made it clear. The novel and the original life weren’t perfectly matched.

There were inconsistencies, missing pieces. It was like the story had been redacted, rewritten to hide the truth.

But why?

Florian didn’t know the answer. But what he did know was that he had to figure it out.

His body felt better now, clearer. He remembered everything that had happened since. The betrayal. Alexandria. The assault. Waking up again.

And then—

Oh.

Oh no.

That’s why everything suddenly felt so... heavy.

Last night came crashing back into his mind in vivid fragments—heat, breathless moans, Heinz’s touch, the way he—

Florian’s head whipped to the side, eyes wide as panic surged in his chest.

Heinz lay next to him, still fast asleep, one strong arm wrapped securely around Florian’s waist.

Florian paled.

"Holy—" he whispered under his breath, clamping his mouth shut before the rest could escape.

Florian tried to move—just a little—but the moment he shifted, a sharp ache bloomed deep in his hips and lower back. The soreness was immediate. Undeniable.

’Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god—’

How had he forgotten? Even for a second?

He froze completely, biting down hard on his bottom lip. He didn’t know what to do. What could he do?

His thoughts were spinning, his face flushing a deep red as he turned to glance at Heinz—who was still asleep.

Peacefully, like he hadn’t just rearranged Florian’s entire life.

’This... this is worse than the aphrodisiac night, and Heinz’s drunken night!’

Because this time—this time—they were both sober.

He had begged for it.

’Fuck. Fuck. What did I do? What the hell did I do?!’ Florian screamed internally, trying not to actually scream in real life.

The pleasure had swallowed him whole. He let it.

He liked it.

He—a supposedly straight man—had practically melted from being touched by another man.

On the receiving end.

And not just any man.

Heinz. Motherfucking. Obsidian.

’AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHH!!!’ Florian shrieked in his head, his whole body practically vibrating with the force of his embarrassment.

’I wanna die. I want to actually just curl up and die. Right now. Please. Any god, if you’re listening, strike me down—’

No.

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