"Are you crying?"
Florian looked up abruptly, his breath catching as he hiccupped through his tears. "H-Heinz...?" he asked in a trembling voice, blinking up at the tall figure offering him a neatly folded handkerchief.
Black hair.Red eyes.
For a moment, Florian's heart stopped.
He had just seen Heinz in the ballroom. Dancing. With Alexandria. He couldn't be here.
The man smiled gently, but Florian instantly sensed it—that wasn't Heinz's smile. It was softer, more practiced.
"No, I'm... well, you probably don't know me," the man said, voice calm but tinged with something amused, "but I'm Hendrix."
The second prince.
Florian's breath hitched.
Right... Heinz's brother. He'd heard gossip—whispers, rumors, late-night chatter over tea. They said Prince Hendrix bore a striking resemblance to Heinz, nearly identical, in fact.
And now, here he was. The second prince of Concordia. Standing in front of him.
