Florian's heart dropped.
He had already suspected it—he wasn't an idiot—but hearing Heinz say it out loud made it feel more real, more inevitable. A heavy weight settled in his chest. The timing had been too perfect. Leila had shown up the moment he was about to see what was inside. Had she been waiting? Had someone told her to stop him?
His fingers curled into a fist at his side. 'Damn it.'
Taking a steadying breath, he forced himself to glance at Heinz, who was watching him with that same unreadable expression—calm, composed, completely unaffected, as if none of this was surprising to him.
"So… what do we do now?" Florian asked, keeping his voice steady despite the frustration simmering beneath his skin.
Heinz raised a brow, and then, to Florian's mild irritation, a smirk tugged at his lips. "Oh? Asking for my opinion now, are we? I thought I was the terrible king who couldn't be trusted with anything."
