Florian's face exploded with color.
'H-He didn't just—He did! He said—He—?!'
A fierce, burning heat rushed beneath his skin, starting in his cheeks and flooding down his neck, all the way to the tips of his ears. His breath caught as his eyes darted up to Heinz, wide with disbelief—confused, flustered, cornered.
"Y-Your Majesty?" he stammered, voice small and cracking under the weight of too many emotions.
Heinz didn't blink.
Didn't flinch.
Didn't even offer a word in response.
Instead, he lifted one hand—two fingers flicked—and a pulse of magic shimmered from his palm like a ripple through hot air. Before Florian could even ask what was happening, the heat brushed against his chest.
And his top tore itself open.
Ripped apart with chilling precision.
The buttons snapped free. The fabric peeled itself back with unnatural ease, threads unraveling like they'd been waiting to betray him.
Florian gasped.
