Heinz turns around, his eyes widening when he came face to face with—
"Florian." He breathed the name like it had been caught in his throat.
Standing amidst the flowers was Florian, smiling gently at him. But even with the smile, Heinz could see it—the sadness in his eyes, deep and quiet, like something he was trying hard to hide.
Florian was dressed in a deep green coat embroidered with silver vines and small flowers. Purple and white blossoms decorated his shoulders and chest, blending with the garden around him.
The fabric shimmered slightly in the light, elegant but soft, almost like something out of a fairytale.
"Heinz."
The way Florian said his name—soft, bittersweet, almost reverent—sent a sharp ache straight through Heinz's chest.
'That voice… it's his, but it's not him. No… it is him.'
"Or... shall I say, Your Majesty?" Florian added with a sad smile, the kind that didn't reach his eyes.
Heinz's breath caught. He stared, stunned, unmoving.
