Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight! novel Chapter 346

Chapter 346: ’Mother’s Love’

Trigger Warning: This Chapter contains depictions of suicide.Please prioritize your well-being—feel free to skip this Chapter if the content may be distressing or triggering for you.

It was supposed to be a joyous occasion.

Heinz had turned thirteen just a week ago. His father had finally acknowledged him—not as a boy, not as a nuisance, but as a prince. The crown prince. The rightful heir. Today marked the beginning of his official training to become king.

And before anything else, he had to see his mother.

’I’m sure she’ll be happy. This is all she ever wanted for me.’ Heinz thought, his heart swelling with pride as he sprinted down the corridor, the polished floors echoing beneath his feet.

"Y-Your Highness, you mustn’t run!" a servant cried out in distress as he passed, but Heinz just waved them off with a grin.

"Have to go see Mother!" he called out, not bothering to slow down. Her room wasn’t far—just beside his own—but he had just come back from a long breakfast with his tutors and couldn’t wait another second.

Normally, his mornings began with her. They always had breakfast together. She’d ruffle his hair, pour his tea, and whisper little jokes about the court ladies’ awful dresses. But recently... she’d shut herself away.

It made Heinz uneasy. The way she stayed locked in her room, the way the servants whispered with pity in their eyes. Delilah, her most trusted maid, always told him to be patient. "Her majesty is simply... not well. Certain circumstances have worn her spirit down."

’Certain circumstances...’

He knew what that meant.

’It’s them. Hendrix and Monica.’

The pest of a half-brother and the woman who dared to smile at his father as though she were queen.

Heinz’s stomach soured at the thought. ’He’s always following me, trying to be near me, like he belongs here. But once I’m king, I’ll make sure they leave. Then Mother can finally be at peace.’

All he had to do was become king. Then everything would be right.

He slowed to a stop, skidding a little on the glossy floor in front of her door. ’Oh, I’m here.’

He took a deep breath and began dusting off his clothes, making sure no crumbs clung to his shirt from breakfast. He patted his chest, fixed his collar, and ran a hand through his tousled dark hair. He wanted to look perfect. Presentable. He wanted her to be proud.

Then he knocked, gently.

"Mother?" he called softly, hand already turning the door handle.

It creaked open.

His smile faded the moment he stepped inside.

The room was a disaster.

Broken porcelain littered the floor—shattered vases, overturned chairs, torn curtains, crumpled letters, ripped duvets. The faint scent of wilted lilies clung to the air like a ghost.

Of course.

’She must’ve had another episode this morning.’ Heinz thought grimly, stepping carefully over the debris. ’Looks like it was worse than usual.’

Delilah must not have come in yet, and the other maids hadn’t dared. This was the aftermath—the storm still lingering in the silence.

Time for damage control.

"Mother, I’m here," he said gently, trying to sound cheerful, stepping further inside.

Then he saw her.

She wasn’t on the bed like usual. She was perched on the window sill, fragile as glass, her arms hugging her knees, her silk nightgown draping over her like a shroud. Her shoulders trembled.

She was crying.

That was new.

"It’s not fair," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Hein froze.

"What’s not fair, Mother?" he asked quietly, though he already knew. There was only one reason that could bring Anastasia to this state.

"Not fair..." she repeated, her palm pressing lightly against the window glass.

Hein stepped closer to see what she was staring at—and then his blood ran cold.

The garden.

From their high vantage point, they could see the entire royal courtyard. And there, under the blooming trees and flowers, sat Henry—his father—with Hendrix and Monica.

They were having breakfast. Laughing.

Hendrix sat on their father’s lap, giggling like a fool, crumbs on his cheek. Henry was smiling, truly smiling—something he had never offered Heinz even once.

Beside them, Monica beamed as if the scene were ripped from a dream. Like she belonged there. Like they belonged there.

Heinz’s chest tightened.

’Why... Why does he smile for them? Why not me? Why not us?’

But this was nothing new. He had long grown used to it. His mother needed him more than his father ever had. And in the end, Heinz was the legitimate son.

The crown prince.

’No one can take that from me. Not Hendrix. Not Monica. Not even Father.’

"Mother, come," he said, stepping toward her slowly. "Let’s get you to bed. You shouldn’t watch them. It’s not—"

"Heinz," she interrupted suddenly, her voice sharp and thin like cracked glass. "Do you love me?"

He paused mid-step, surprised. "Of course, Mother."

"I love you too, my son." She smiled—weak and broken. "You are my pride and joy. The only thing in this world that matters to me."

Heinz swallowed. Her voice was trembling despite the sweetness, laced with something... off.

"Will you do anything for me, my son?" she asked, turning to look at him.

"Yes, Mother," he answered without hesitation, though something cold settled in his gut. "Do you... need something?"

Anastasia turned fully now, and the breath caught in his throat.

Her eyes.

Lifeless.

Not angry. Not sad. Not even desperate.

Just... empty.

As if the soul behind them had already left, and only a body remained. A puppet with fading strings.

Heinz stood frozen, uncertain why—why, out of nowhere, he felt compelled to glance toward the far corner of his mother’s disheveled room. His body moved before his mind could catch up, and when his eyes landed on that shadowy space, something inside him twisted violently.

It was new. That much he knew. There had never been anything like that in her room before.

’No... no, no, no, that can’t be—she wouldn’t—she couldn’t...’

"Heinz, darling," she cooed softly, lovingly—too lovingly. "You said you loved your mother."

"You said you’d do anything for me... right?"

’No, please...’

"Did you lie to me then?" she snapped. "Are you going to be just like your father? After everything I’ve done, after the pain I endured, this is how you repay your mother’s love?!"

Her face lit up. That awful smile returned, but this time it trembled with joy. "I knew you loved me," she whispered, voice thick with tears and twisted devotion. "I knew I could rely on you, my son."

’She’s really going to do it... and she wants me to...’

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