Help! Get Me Out of My Sister's Chapter 263: ‘Who the fuck is Drizelous?’

Florian blinked, still trying to process what he had just been told. The words echoed in his mind like a cruel joke that sohow got taken seriously.

’I can’t believe this. I can’t believe Heinz!’

He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to soothe the tension gathering at the base of his skull. A tight, uncomfortable pit was already forming in his stomach.

"You an... I’m actually going to be the one speaking to the dukes? Like, all of them, Your Majesty?"

Heinz gave a single, lazy nod, as though they were discussing what flavor of jam to have for breakfast rather than a royal summit with the most powerful n in the kingdom.

’This has to be so kind of punishnt. Right? For talking back to him so many tis. Gods, please just say it’s a prank.’

Florian’s fingers fidgeted in his lap, twisting together anxiously. "I-I an, isn’t that a little excessive? Duke Alexandrius and Duke Alaric alone are terrifying, and now I have to face the rest of them too?"

His voice wavered, inching up in pitch with every word. Panic was creeping in fast, wrapping around his throat like a vine of thorns.

"Can’t I just be... I don’t know, so sort of suggestor? Maybe hand Lucius a script and hide under the table while he reads it?"

Heinz gave a small shake of his head, lips tugging upward slightly—not in amusent, but in sothing more unreadable. "No. The dukes despise ," he said, bluntly. "They’d tear apart anything I proposed on principle alone. And let’s be honest, everyone in that room would know I’d never co up with a plan that thoughtful on my own."

Florian’s eye twitched. He wanted to be offended, but... fair.

’Okay, that does make sense.’

"But they would never take seriously," Florian protested, motioning to himself like he was presenting a reason too obvious to argue with. "I’m one of the harem mbers, for gods’ sakes. And I’m not even from this kingdom! I’m a foreign prince. Literally the last person they’ll want to listen to!"

He was pushing again—he knew it. He was probably crossing one of Heinz’s invisible lines. But this wasn’t so silly disagreent; this was political suicide.

And yet, Heinz’s smirk didn’t waver.

"You do know it’s an order, not a request?" he said, his voice calm, like still water that might suddenly drown you.

Florian bit back a groan and instead pressed his fingers against his neck, as if that would sohow relieve the pressure building inside him. It felt like soone had clasped an iron collar around his throat and was slowly tightening it.

"I’m not ready to do sothing as big as this," he muttered, voice lower now, almost pleading.

Heinz tilted his head, studying him for a long mont before leaning back in his chair. His posture was relaxed, but Florian knew better than to be fooled by that. Heinz was never truly relaxed. His words, when they ca, were precise and piercing.

"Think about it this way," he said. "Who is the biggest threat in this kingdom—no, in this entire reality?"

Florian blinked. "...You, Your Majesty?"

Heinz nodded, pleased. "That’s right. And yet, you scolded about how to be a king... and you got away with it."

Florian opened his mouth, paused, then closed it again.

’...Damn it. He has a point again.’

"So," Heinz continued, spreading his hands slightly as if presenting a logical conclusion, "why would a bunch of asly old bastards scare you? Unless you think they’re more intimidating than ?"

No.

No, they weren’t.

Nobody was scarier than Heinz. That wasn’t even a debate. And Heinz had already implied he would be there, watching, ready to shut things down if necessary. Still, the fear inside Florian didn’t go away.

He hated public speaking. Always had. He only survived that last speech at the ball because adrenaline carried him, and there had been so many people he couldn’t focus on anyone’s expression. But now? Now it would just be him, a table, and a group of old, powerful n waiting to tear him apart for sport.

’Is Heinz testing again? Is this a test?’ Florian glanced at him, searching his face for any hint of intent. ’If this were a test, what would he be trying to find out? Or... no. No, he really does have a point. The dukes would never listen to him. They’d fight it out of spite. And this plan... it was mine. I insisted on helping those villages.’

And more importantly, this was a chance. If Florian wanted Heinz’s help to return to his world—to return to his body—then this was the path forward.

He had to do it.

Florian straightened a little, let out a heavy sigh, and nodded. "Fine. I’ll do it, Your Majesty."

Heinz raised an eyebrow, smug as ever.

"Like you had any other choice?"

Florian really had to resist the urge to glare at him. He swallowed it down, forcing himself to stay calm.

"Do I have to prepare anything besides the proposal?" he asked.

"Yes. Lucius will give you everything you need to know," Heinz said, glancing toward the window like the conversation was already done. "And don’t worry too much about it. I’ll be there overseeing things anyway."

Florian stared at him for a beat.

’That doesn’t make it any better.’

But all he did was nod, voice flat. "If that is all, then... should I go look for Lucius, or do we have other things to discuss?"

Heinz didn’t even glance at him this ti. "Lucius will co to you. I still have sothing to finalize with him."

’Oh thank the gods,’ Florian thought, a wave of relief washing over him. ’That buys at least a few more minutes before I have to pretend I know what I’m doing.’

"But for now," Heinz continued, tone maddeningly casual, "look for Delilah. Tell her to bring you to Drizelous."

Florian blinked.

’...Drizelous?’

He stared at Heinz like the man had just coughed up a spell. The na ant nothing to him—zero recognition, zero context, and zero warning.

"I’m sorry—who?" Florian asked, voice inching higher. Confusion was scrawled openly across his face now, no effort made to hide it. "Who’s Drizelous, Your Majesty? I don’t rember anyone with that na in the palace..."

’And I definitely don’t recall a Drizelous being in the novel..."

Heinz finally looked at him again, but the expression on his face was unreadable, the kind of look that made Florian feel like a chess piece moving exactly where Heinz had predicted.

"Delilah will fill you in," he said simply, as if that answered anything. "Just tell her I ordered it. And that it’s for the summit."

Florian’s mouth opened, then closed. Then opened again—then just stayed open in stunned silence.

’That doesn’t answer anything, Heinz.’

But he didn’t say that out loud. He knew better than to ask follow-up questions when Heinz was already ntally leaving the conversation. The man was glancing at his papers now, fingers already lifting a pen, as though Florian had ceased to exist.

Every second he stayed risked triggering another insane task. One ti he lingered too long and ended up volunteering to taste-test poisoned tea—by accident.

So he forced himself to bow slightly, the motion jerky with disbelief. "Understood, Your Majesty."

"Good," Heinz replied, flipping open a docunt with all the finality of soone shutting a coffin lid.

Florian turned on his heel, walking toward the door like a man heading toward a cliff with no idea what was on the other side. His steps were quick, but his thoughts lagged behind, looping like a broken record.

’Who the fuck is Drizelous?’