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

’Shit. Why is he here?’

Of all the people Florian could run into, it had to be him. His jaw clenched as he forced himself to turn slowly, his heart pounding like a drum in his chest. His gaze met Lancelot’s, who stood there smirking with infuriating confidence, his piercing eyes gleaming with amusement as if he had already won a game Florian didn’t even know he was playing.

Florian swallowed hard, his mind racing for a response. ’Just act normal,’ he told himself, though the very idea seemed laughable under the circumstances.

"I..." His voice cracked, coming out weaker than he intended. He quickly straightened his posture, forcing himself to stand taller despite the ridiculous frilly uniform and his trembling nerves. "Kaz," he blurted, repeating the name he had given the maid earlier.

Lancelot tilted his head, his smirk widening as if he could see right through the facade. "Kaz, hmm? Interesting. I don’t recall seeing someone like you around before. And trust me, I would’ve remembered."

"I-I’m new here..." Florian stammered, his words fumbling as he avoided Lancelot’s gaze.

"New, huh?" Lancelot’s voice dropped an octave, his tone dripping with intrigue. Without warning, Florian felt a hand slide around his waist, pulling him slightly closer. His breath hitched as Lancelot pressed himself against him from behind.

’This... this is harassment, right?’ Florian’s mind screamed, but his body froze, unsure how to react without blowing his cover.

"That’s interesting," Lancelot murmured, his breath hot against Florian’s ear. The proximity made Florian’s skin crawl, his face flushing—not out of pleasure, but sheer mortification. The unwanted touch, the closeness, the audacity—it was all too much.

Lancelot’s free hand slid down to Florian’s thigh, his grip firm and uninvited. Florian’s panic spiked as his thoughts scrambled for a solution. ’Think... think... What do I do?!’

Before Florian could act, Lancelot roughly spun him around and shoved him against the wall, the impact jarring and painful. Florian winced, a sharp ache radiating across his back as the memories of a far gentler Lucius flooded his mind. But this? This was entirely different.

"Fuck," he hissed under his breath, trying to steady himself, but Lancelot’s piercing glare was locked on him, cold and unrelenting.

"Who are you," Lancelot demanded, his voice a low growl, "and how did you get here?"

"W-What?" Florian stammered, his breath hitching as Lancelot’s hand moved to his neck, squeezing—not hard enough to choke him entirely, but enough to make the threat clear.

"Do you think I’m an idiot?" Lancelot hissed, leaning closer, his voice venomous. "Princess Bridget’s maid alerted us to an unfamiliar face cleaning the astronomy room. I am entitled to know if there are new hires, and you are not one of them."

’Fuck. I thought Lucius said no one would notice a new hire?!’ Panic surged through Florian as he tried to think of something—anything—that would buy him time.

"I-I don’t know what you mean... I-I’m really a new hi—"

"Bullshit." Lancelot’s grip tightened, cutting Florian off as he winced. "Who are you, and what are your intentions?"

Florian’s head was spinning, the lack of air making his vision blur slightly. He tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. Finally, through sheer desperation, he croaked, "G... Glasses..."

Lancelot blinked, momentarily confused. "What?"

"T-Take..." Florian rasped, his fingers twitching as he weakly gestured to his face. "...them... off..."

Realization dawned on Lancelot’s face, and with his free hand, he yanked the glasses off Florian’s face. The effect was immediate. The enchantment broke, and Florian’s disguised appearance melted away, revealing his true features.

Lancelot froze, his hand instantly releasing Florian’s neck as his eyes widened in shock. "Prince Florian? What in the king’s name are you doing?!" His tone was a mix of disbelief and anger, his brows furrowing as he stepped back.

Florian coughed, clutching his throat as he gasped for air, his head still spinning. Before he could form a coherent response, another voice rang out.

"Your Highness!"

Florian’s eyes darted to the source of the voice, his heart sinking with relief and dread all at once. Lucius strode toward them, his expression equal parts panic and fury. His usually immaculate demeanor was disheveled, and the tension in his shoulders was palpable.

"Lucius?" Lancelot said, his voice laced with confusion, though his stance remained defensive.

Lucius ignored him, immediately moving to Florian’s side. "Are you alright, Your Highness?" His tone was gentle, but his eyes were sharp with concern.

Florian shook his head weakly, still catching his breath. ’No, I am not fucking okay. Lancelot just tried to choke the life out of me. What the actual fuck.’

Lucius’s expression darkened as he turned his glare to Lancelot. "Did you not read the memo I sent you?" he asked, his voice cold and clipped.

Lancelot raised an eyebrow, his confusion quickly replaced by irritation. "Memo? What memo? And what in the king’s name is the prince doing dressed like a maid and using an enchanted disguise?"

Lucius’s glare could have pierced steel. "His Highness is carrying out a task for His Majesty. You would have known that if you’d bothered to read the briefing I sent you, Flameheart."

Lancelot’s frown deepened, but then, as if to antagonize further, his lips curled into a mocking smirk. "Is this really a royal task, or just some perverted fantasy of dressing the pitiful prince in a maid’s outfit?"

Lucius’s eyes widened in fury, his voice sharp. "How dare you—His Highness is right here! How dare you call him pitiful?!"

"Because he is?"

"You...!"

Florian, still recovering, could only stare in disbelief as the two men bickered, his body trembling from the adrenaline coursing through him. ’Are they... actually doing this right now?’

It was absurd. It was cliché. It was like a scene ripped straight out of one of those overly dramatic BL novels he secretly hated.

Two male leads arguing in front of the helpless protagonist—him. And Florian despised it. He couldn’t just stand there and let this ridiculous scene unfold any longer. He had to put an end to it.

He straightened himself, his hand briefly brushing against the sore spot on his neck. He drew in a sharp breath and, before Lucius could fire back at Lancelot, snapped, "Stop."

The single word cut through the tension like a knife. Both men turned to look at him, their tall frames towering over his smaller, maid-outfitted figure. Florian squared his shoulders, forcing an air of authority into his voice. "Lucius, it was a simple misunderstanding. Let it go."

Lucius frowned, his sharp gaze flicking to Lancelot. "But, Your Highness—"

"No." Florian’s tone brooked no argument. His steely gaze then shifted to Lancelot, who was looking down at him with an insufferably smug expression. "And you—" Florian’s voice hardened. "I don’t care what you think about me. I understand my actions in the past may have been... bothersome, but you saw it yourself—His Majesty summoned me. Whatever I’m doing right now, it is at his command and for his purpose."

Lancelot raised a brow, his arrogant smirk remaining firmly in place. "And what in the name of Concordia did His Majesty order you to do that requires you to dress up like..." He gestured vaguely at Florian’s maid uniform, his tone mocking. "...this?"

Lucius cleared his throat, his composure snapping back into place. "His Majesty has recently announced his intention to choose a bride. A queen."

"What?" Lancelot blinked, his surprise finally cracking through his smug demeanor. "The king’s looking for a bride? Why haven’t I heard of this?"

Lucius shot him a pointed look. "It was in the memo I sent to all high-ranking officials, including you."

Lancelot ignored the jab and turned to Florian instead. "And you’re just... fine with this?" he asked, skepticism lacing his tone.

’Ugh.’

"Yes," Florian said through gritted teeth, though his annoyance was barely concealed. "In fact, I’m helping His Majesty by gathering information on the princesses—details he may not be aware of—to assist him in making the best choice. Hence..." He gestured down at the ridiculous maid outfit. "...this."

"Oh."

’Yeah, oh, you arrogant prick.’ frёeweɓηovel.coɱ

Lucius, clearly tired of the conversation, spoke up, his tone clipped. "As I said earlier, I sent a memo to your quarters with all of this information. Perhaps if you took your duties more seriously, you wouldn’t have embarrassed yourself or His Highness with your behavior."

Lancelot’s expression shifted, the smugness giving way to mild embarrassment. He scratched the back of his neck and looked away, muttering, "Right. Right."

An awkward silence followed, the tension between the three of them thick and uncomfortable.

Florian sighed inwardly. ’Great. Now they’re both just staring at me. Like I’m some delicate centerpiece in their weird power dynamic. I don’t have time for this.’

He cleared his throat and plastered on a tight smile. "Well, now that everything’s cleared up, it was lovely seeing you both, but I have important work to do. May I?" He held out his hand for his glasses, glaring at Lancelot expectantly.

Lancelot blinked as if realizing he still held them. His eyes widened slightly before he handed the glasses back to Florian. "Of course."

"Great." Florian slid the glasses back on, his disguise flickering back into place. He turned to Lucius, his tone brisk. "Lucius, how’s everything on your side?"

"Everything was progressing smoothly... until I received word of an ’intruder’ in the castle." Lucius shot another sharp glare at Lancelot.

Lancelot’s lips curled into a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. "Ah, so you’re involved in this farce as well?"

Lucius’s tone was ice-cold as he replied, "That is no longer your concern."

Lancelot raised his hands in mock surrender but said nothing more.

Lucius turned to Florian, his tone softening as he inclined his head slightly. "I shall take my leave, Your Highness. You should as well, Flameheart."

Florian let out a quiet sigh of relief as Lucius strode off, his sharp, purposeful footsteps echoing down the corridor. The tension in the air lightened somewhat, but not enough to ease the heavy knot in Florian’s chest.

He turned briefly to Lancelot, who still lingered, leaning casually against the wall as though none of the prior events had unfolded. His expression was unreadable, his gaze steady and almost... amused. Florian chose not to acknowledge him further. Instead, he adjusted the hem of his skirt—if only to avoid looking at him—straightened his posture, and walked in the opposite direction with as much dignity as the maid outfit would allow.

Just as he thought the moment was over, Lancelot’s voice carried down the hall, loud enough to reach his ears but still infuriatingly nonchalant. "If it’s any consolation for my behavior..." There was a pause, and Florian could feel the smirk in his tone before he even said the words. "...you look very nice in that maid outfit, Prince Florian."

Florian froze mid-step, his fingers tightening around the frames of his glasses. He clenched his jaw, willing himself not to react. ’Don’t give him the satisfaction.’

Sliding the glasses firmly back onto his face, he allowed the transformation to reappear, returning him to his "maid" persona. Without a word, he resumed walking, refusing to look back.

The encounter left a bitter taste in his mouth. Every step away from Lancelot felt heavier than it should have, his mind replaying the arrogant smirk and mocking tone. He was now behind schedule, and Camilla’s suspiciously early arrival remained a looming problem he had yet to address.

And yet, the thing that irked him the most wasn’t the delay.

It was the dreadful, creeping feeling that he was being unwittingly drawn into the center of a very unwanted, very messy love triangle. ’Yet another cliche...ugh...’

’...Kill me now,’