It wasn’t a tearful goodbye when Florian stood before the Thornfield family—also known as the original Florian’s family.

Not really.

If anything, it left a hollow kind of disappointment in his chest.

He had invited them with hope. With the quiet wish that, somehow, he could return with them.

That he could give the original Florian at least this much—for his family to be whole again, for things to feel normal, even just for a while.

But thanks to Asher—and Heinz—that was no longer possible.

’I invited them for nothing,’ Florian thought bitterly. ’I really did.’

Leticia, his mother, was the hardest to part with.

She was openly torn apart by the idea of leaving him behind. She clutched his hands, told him again and again that he could come home anytime, that Thornfield would always be his home.

And through all of it, she very pointedly ignored Heinz.

Florian noticed.

He also found it... oddly entertaining.

’Good for you, Mom,’ he thought, almost fondly.

Then there was Kazaria.

"I can’t believe you’re staying here," she whispered as she hugged him tightly, arms wrapped around him as if she could anchor him in place. "I always promised I’d protect you. How am I supposed to do that if you’re here?"

Florian froze.

He didn’t know what to say.

So he did the only thing he could—he promised to visit. Promised that they could see each other again. Promised things he hoped he could keep.

Her words lodged themselves painfully in his chest.

Something about it made his throat tighten, made it harder to breathe.

’I miss you,’ he thought suddenly. ’My Kaz.’

Kazaria reminded him of his own sister in ways he didn’t want to think too deeply about. The way she worried. The way she loved fiercely and without hesitation.

And Florian knew—truly knew—how much Kazaria cared for her younger brother.

The same way he had cared for his own.

That realization hurt more than he expected.

But the strangest goodbye of all was Asher’s.

Florian had expected indifference. Or a sharp remark. Maybe even something cruel, the usual way Asher spoke to him.

Instead—

Asher leaned in close, his voice low enough that only Florian could hear.

"You are my pride and joy."

And then he turned around and walked away.

Leaving Florian standing there, stunned, confusion swirling violently in his chest.

’What... was that?’ Florian thought.

He watched Asher’s back retreat, the words echoing again and again in his mind, heavy and impossible to place.

Of all the things Asher could have said—

That was the one Florian never expected.

Florian barely had time to process what Asher had said before the moment slipped away.

It was the dukes’ turn to depart—which meant it was time for Florian to leave as well.

The weight of it settled in his chest all at once.

"Are you sure I can’t go, Your Highness?" Cashew asked again, lips pulled into a small pout that made his worry painfully obvious.

Florian let out a soft chuckle. "That won’t work on me anymore, Cashew." He shook his head gently. "And besides, trust me. You don’t need to worry."

His voice softened. "I’ll figure out what’s going on out there. And if it’s anything dangerous, I won’t be alone. I’ll have Lancelot with me—and Prince Hendrix as well."

’Even if that part worries me,’ Florian thought.

From the corner of his eye, he spotted Athena and Scarlett loading their belongings into their carriage, speaking quietly between themselves. Nearby, Hendrix stood by another carriage, overseeing his own luggage with his usual unreadable expression.

Florian’s own things were being secured by Lancelot in a separate carriage.

But Florian himself wouldn’t be riding there.

Instead, he was to travel with Elara and her son, Eleonor.

’Of course I am,’ he thought dryly. ’Nothing is ever simple.’

"And if you want extra assurance," Florian added, lowering his voice, "if four days pass and you don’t hear from us..." He hesitated, then smiled faintly. "You can tell His Majesty everything. Alright?"

Cashew stiffened, then nodded earnestly. "Okay, Your Highness."

Florian reached out and rested his hand atop Cashew’s head, ruffling his hair gently.

"I will miss you," Cashew said quietly.

Florian felt something tug in his chest. "I’ll miss you too, Cashew," he replied with a warm smile.

’Just four days,’ he told himself. ’I can handle four days.’

Even as the carriage preparations continued around them, Florian knew this wasn’t just a simple departure.

It felt like the beginning of something he couldn’t turn back from.

Elara approached just as the last of the dukes’ carriages disappeared beyond the palace gates. Heinz had already said his piece to each of them, his duties fulfilled, his composure intact.

"Are you ready, Prince Florian?" she asked gently. "The others have already left."

Florian drew in a slow, steadying breath before nodding. "Yes," he said. "I’m ready."

Before the moment could settle, Eleonor stepped forward, hands clasped neatly behind his back. His posture was stiff, far too serious for someone his age, as if he understood more about this departure than he let on.

"Cashew," Eleonor said, looking up at him, "you don’t have to worry. Florian is in good hands." He tilted his head slightly. "My uncle won’t let anything happen to him."

’Cashew’s pretty well-known now,’ Florian thought with a small, almost fond smile. ’Even kids are reassuring him.’

Cashew blinked, clearly caught off guard. For a moment, he looked like he didn’t know what to do with the words.

Then he nodded, lips pressing into a thin line. "I know," he said quietly. "I trust you... and Lady Elara."

Not Elara’s brother.

Florian noticed that too.

He didn’t give himself time to think. He stepped forward and pulled Cashew into a hug, firm and sudden, like he was afraid the chance might slip away if he hesitated.

Cashew stiffened for half a second—then hugged him back just as tightly, fingers clutching at the fabric of Florian’s clothes.

"I’ll see you soon, Cashew," Florian murmured.

"I’ll be waiting, Your Highness," Cashew replied, his voice muffled against Florian’s shoulder.

They pulled apart. Cashew took a step back and bowed quickly, too quickly, as if lingering even a second longer would make it harder to let go.

Elara watched the exchange with a soft smile. "You may go ahead and get in first, Florian," she said. "We’ll follow shortly."

Florian nodded. He turned toward the carriage, already bracing himself for the shift, for the moment this became real—

"Florian."

The sound of his name stopped him cold.

Not shouted. Not sharp.

Just... Heinz.

Florian’s breath caught, his fingers curling slightly at his side.

’Oh, God,’ he thought. ’Why is he still here?’