"You seem… upset."
Hendrix's voice was slow, hesitant—so unlike the smug, teasing prince Florian had come to expect.
It was awkward in a way that made Florian blink.
'What a sudden change to how he usually acts.'
But then again… in the original timeline, Hendrix was shy. Awkward. Kind.
The sort of boy who blushed when the original Florian smiled at him.
So maybe this—this quieter, gentler version—was closer to the real him.
"Well… more upset than the other night we spoke," Hendrix added cautiously.
Florian stiffened.
Right.
That night.
The night in the gardens.
Before Charles appeared.
Before the blood and the blades.
And just after Heinz confessed.
He had spoken to Hendrix then. He'd been emotional, desperate, unguarded.
Florian did not want to remember that.
Not now, at least.
"I'm not upset," Florian said flatly, yanking his arm free. "And please forget about that night."
Hendrix frowned. "But you seemed to want to talk about something, and—"
