"And I thought I couldn't like you any more than I already do, Your Highness," Drizelous said with a chuckle.

The reaction made Florian blink, genuinely confused.

'…That's not what I was expecting.'

Florian trusted Drizelous.

So he told him everything.

Well—almost everything. The polished version. The version that didn't sound completely unhinged, didn't expose every raw edge he was still trying to keep together.

Even so, he'd braced himself for judgment.

For shock. For someone instinctively taking Heinz's side, like everyone else always did.

Instead, Drizelous listened with bright eyes and an amused hum, fully engaged, as if Florian had just told him the most fascinating story in the world.

That alone was unsettling.

But also relieving.

Drizelous stepped closer and rested his hands on either side of Florian's shoulders, steady and warm.

"That's new," Florian said slowly, meeting his gaze through the mirror. "Usually there's… a horrified reaction when someone talks about rejecting the king."

"Not me," Drizelous replied easily, chuckling. "The whole reason we're best friends, Your Highness, is because you're the only one alive who can knock that pissy king down a peg."

Florian raised an eyebrow. "Wasn't he your first muse? And your childhood friend?"

Drizelous waved a hand dramatically. "Oh, I love the man. Absolutely." He sighed theatrically. "Do I like him? Not particularly. You already knew that."

Florian snorted before he could stop himself.

"It's the same way you love him and hate him at the same time," Drizelous added, glancing at him knowingly.

"Hey!" Florian protested, half-joking. "Mine's… different. Maybe."

"Maybe? It's different because yours is romantic." Drizelous echoed, arching a brow. "Dear, there's no maybe." His tone softened, losing its playful edge. "The way you described it—the way you love him but can't forgive what he's done. The way he only started changing because you became different."

His hands tightened just slightly on Florian's shoulders.

"I can tell," Drizelous said quietly, "that you're still hesitating."

Florian's smile faded, just a little, like it took effort to keep it there at all.

He hesitated before speaking, eyes fixed on his reflection. "What… can you advise?" Florian asked slowly. "I keep telling myself I'm fine with rejecting him. Especially when he does something that makes me angry—like talking to my father behind my back."

His voice wavered despite his effort to keep it steady. "I feel stupid. I feel stupid that I still hesitate. I shouldn't be hesitating, right?"

"You shouldn't be," Drizelous replied, carefully placing another ornament into Florian's hair. His tone was calm, measured. "But…"

"There's a but?" Florian asked immediately, the tension breaking just enough for a breath of humor. Drizelous laughed softly.

"Yes, there's a but," he said. "I've had my fair share of romances. Ladies I've left heartbroken… and ladies who've left me heartbroken."

"Ladies?" Florian repeated, blinking. "Ladies?"

The word hit him harder than any political revelation, any secret whispered behind palace doors.

'Wait—what?'

"Yes, ladies," Drizelous said easily, flashing him a grin that was, annoyingly, every bit as charming as he claimed. "Was it not obvious? I'm quite the charmer."

Florian stared at him, clearly thrown off.

'You being charming isn't the surprising part,' he thought, biting back the comment. 'It's… everything else.'

He realized then that the assumption had been his own. A careless one. And for some reason, that realization made his chest feel lighter—and heavier at the same time.

"Anyway," Drizelous continued, waving it off. His voice softened, losing its playful edge. "There was one woman in particular. Her name was Chastity." A fond smile crossed his face, genuine and unguarded. "Beautiful name, right?"

Florian nodded without thinking.

"She was… remarkable," Drizelous went on. "We met when we were eighteen. Just two young lovebirds, convinced that love alone could solve everything."

Florian stayed quiet, letting him speak.

"She loved me deeply. I knew that," Drizelous continued, his voice softer now. "And I loved her too. I truly did. But…"

His smile faltered, just for a second, like it hurt to keep it in place. "Unfortunately for her, that was the time when I was rebelling against my mother. And my mother adored Chastity. Absolutely adored her."

'Oh… oh no,' Florian thought, his chest sinking as the pieces began to fall into place.

"I was unfaithful," Drizelous said plainly. There was no humor in his voice now, only quiet shame. "And I didn't even bother hiding it. I flirted openly. I went to parties with noblewomen who loved the idea of being close to the son of the future king's favorite maid."

He let out a breath. "And by then, I was already gaining a name for myself as a designer and tailor."

"I can't imagine you as a… playboy," Florian admitted.

Drizelous let out a weak laugh. "Well, I was, Your Highness." His gaze dropped slightly. "And Chastity?" He shook his head. "She didn't care. She kept supporting me. Loving me. Standing by my side as if none of it hurt."

His fingers tightened unconsciously. "She kept holding on. It should've melted my heart—and it did—but at the same time…" He swallowed. "It made me resent her."

Florian frowned. "Resent her?"

"Yes," Drizelous said quietly. "Because how could someone endure that? How could a person love like that without breaking?" His lips pressed into a thin line. "I kept thinking there had to be a catch. That no one could be that kind for free."

Drizelous set his comb down, his hands suddenly still, as if continuing would be too much.

"So I kept going," he said. "And she kept going too. She smiled at me. Endured everything. Again and again."

Florian's voice was careful. "What… happened?"

"One night, she asked me to talk," Drizelous replied. "I had just come back from a party. She asked me to meet her at the lake where we first met." A hollow chuckle escaped him. "Cliché, isn't it?"

He exhaled slowly. "I was certain she'd finally had enough. That she was going to leave me. And part of me felt… satisfied. Like I'd finally proven myself right." His jaw tightened. "And another part of me dreaded it."

"And did she?" Florian turned fully toward him now, no longer looking through the mirror.

Drizelous met his eyes and gave him a bitter smile.

"No."

Florian blinked. "No?"

"It was worse." Drizelous removed his glasses and set them atop his curls, rubbing his eyes briefly before continuing. "She told me she was sick. That there was nothing the doctors could do. She said she wanted to tell me immediately."

His voice thinned, then dropped to a whisper.

"She was dying."

Florian felt his throat tighten so suddenly it hurt. For a moment, he forgot how to breathe. The words settled in his chest like a weight he didn't know how to carry.

'How do you even hear something like that and stay standing?' he thought.

Drizelous stared ahead, his eyes unfocused, as if the memory had pulled him somewhere far away. "And in that moment," he said quietly, "everything I had taken for granted became something I could never get back."

"I'm so sorry, Drizelous," Florian said. It was the only thing he could manage, and it felt painfully insufficient.

Drizelous laughed softly—not in amusement, but in acceptance.

"You don't have to be, dear prince," he said. "I was the one at fault. I suffered the consequences of my own actions."

His voice wavered, and he wiped at his eyes before any tears could fall. "I tried everything. Changed everything. As if effort alone could rewrite the past." He shook his head. "Even though I knew no amount of change could bring her back."

He took a breath. "So I decided that if I couldn't fix what I broke, I would at least make her last months happy."

Florian listened, his chest aching.

"And we were," Drizelous continued softly. "We were both as happy as we could be. And when the time came…" His smile trembled. "Oh, my love. My Chastity." He exhaled. "She took her own kind of revenge."

"Wait—revenge?" Florian asked, startled.

Drizelous nodded. "When she was on her deathbed, she told everyone not to inform me until she was already in her casket." He smiled sadly. "She said that as much as she loved me—and as much as I gave her the happiest months of her life—she wanted to take something back. Just a little. For all the pain."

Florian swallowed hard. "She… left a letter?"

"Yes," Drizelous said. "And these glasses." He lifted them gently from his hair, cradling them as if they were fragile. "This pair is hers. I don't even need glasses."

He smiled, soft and tender. "She said that all the geniuses she read about wore glasses. So she wanted to leave hers with me."

"That's…" Florian trailed off, words failing him.

'It's cruel,' he thought. 'And loving. And unbearably human.'

He didn't know whether he wanted to cry, choke on the emotion in his chest, or smile at how painfully sweet it all was.

It was tragic.

It was beautiful.

And it hurt in a way Florian knew he would remember.

"In your case, Your Highness," Drizelous said softly as he slid his glasses back on, "you're my Chastity. And His Majesty… is me."

The words settled heavier than Florian expected.

He turned his gaze back to the mirror, avoiding Drizelous' eyes. "Ours isn't as beautiful as yours," he said quietly.

Drizelous smiled, but there was no amusement in it. "Maybe not. But the thing is…" His voice lowered. "His Majesty has likely come to the same realization I did."

Florian's fingers twitched.

"And deep down," Drizelous continued, "you know that." He sighed. "As much as I stand by you wanting to reject him—completely, fully—"

He stepped closer and placed his hands on either side of Florian's shoulders, grounding, steady.

"Perhaps the reason you're still hesitating," Drizelous said gently, "is because part of you does want to give him a chance."

Florian swallowed.

"And rejecting him," Drizelous added, his voice barely above a whisper, "might actually be hurting you more than the idea of trying with him again."