Help! Get Me Out of My Sister's Chapter 281: ’Get Him To Confess’

"Hah."

The soft sigh escaped Florian’s lips before he could stop it, muffled by the pillow he was half-buried in.

"Your Highness, are you okay?" Cashew asked gently, his voice almost timid as he set down the watering can.

He had just finished tending to the plants near the balcony—Florian’s plants. Ones the young royal barely looked at these days.

Florian didn’t respond right away. He remained sprawled face-down on the bed, cheek pressed into the sheets. Azure, the small blue dragon curled beside his head, let out a soft puff of smoke, almost like he was sighing in sync.

Cashew stepped closer, hesitant, watching him carefully.

Florian had been like this for hours.

Quiet. Still. Sighing more than speaking.

Lucius had left earlier after yet another long, tense conversation.

"Prince Hendrix... why are you curious about him, Your Highness?" Lucius asked, arms crossing over his chest in that familiar, composed way of his. His golden eyes, usually unreadable, narrowed ever so slightly. "You are aware that His Majesty hates his brother, right?"

Florian nodded, fingers absently brushing over the soft fabric of his sleeve. "Of course I am. You already gave so of the details before. Drizelous ntioned him as well..." He paused, eyes drifting to the floor for a second. "I just... want to know more. Call it natural curiosity. Like, why isn’t he here? And... did he really try to approach His Majesty when they were younger?"

Lucius furrowed his brows at that. "Drizelous, right. He grew up in the palace alongside His Majesty and Prince Hendrix."

There was a short silence. Then Lucius exhaled quietly, adjusting his glasses.

"Indeed, as far as I know, Prince Hendrix did make many attempts to get closer to His Majesty in their youth."

Florian leaned in slightly. "What happened?"

Lucius’s voice lowered, thoughtful. "As I heard and observed... Prince Hendrix used to follow His Majesty around. He’d try to join in his swordsmanship training, attend royal lessons with him. He wanted to be part of his world." His eyes dimd a little, lips pressing into a line. "However..."

"However?" Florian asked, tone sharper now. He could already feel sothing twisting in his chest.

"It was either His Majesty would ignore him to the point of cruelty... or," Lucius looked away for a mont, "he would get too sick to keep up."

Florian blinked. "Get too sick? He’s..."

"Yes." Lucius gave a slow, reluctant nod. "Prince Hendrix has always had a fragile body. Sickly. Prone to fevers and collapsing spells. It was widely believed that it stemd from his mother not being native to Concordia."

That caught Florian off guard.

"Wait—Prince Hendrix’s mother isn’t from here? Where is she from, then?"

"No one truly knows," Lucius replied with a shrug that felt more like resignation. "As far as court records go, the previous king returned from one of his tours to foreign kingdoms with Lady Isabelle at his side. She was introduced as a concubine without much explanation. Her origins were kept vague—likely intentionally."

’Lady Isabelle... I guess that’s Hendrix’s mother. Why keep her background a secret?’

"So... is that why Prince Hendrix couldn’t use magic?" Florian asked quietly, brow furrowed. "His body couldn’t handle it?"

Lucius seed surprised for a second, but he gave a small nod. "How did you know, Your Highness?"

"Oh—" Florian froze. Shit. He hadn’t ant to let that slip. Heinz was the one who’d told him. But he kept his voice casual, brushing it off. "His Majesty ntioned it once. When I, uh... maybe suggested that the stranger at the ball could’ve been Prince Hendrix."

He watched Lucius carefully, expecting a shift—alarm, suspicion, sothing.

But Lucius remained calm. If anything, his gaze softened.

"I can understand why you’d think that," he said. "But Prince Hendrix voluntarily requested to move himself and his mother to the far reaches of Concordia, away from the capital and all its politics. And frankly... he’s not the type to do such a thing. If anything..."

Lucius hesitated.

Florian caught the pause and leaned forward slightly. "If anything?"

There was a long, drawn breath. Then—

"If anything... he’s the opposite of His Majesty," Lucius said, voice quiet now. Almost gentle. "Prince Hendrix was kind. He took after the previous king. Soft-spoken. Empathetic. He was gentle, which is why so many people hoped... wished... he’d be the one to inherit the throne."

Florian’s lips parted slightly. "Oh."

"Your Highness?" Cashew called out softly again, his voice tentative, as if he didn’t want to intrude—but couldn’t help worrying.

It tugged Florian out of his thoughts. Slowly, he looked up at the boy from where he lay sprawled on his stomach atop the plush bedding, head resting near Azure’s tiny, slumbering form. The little blue dragon’s soft snoring filled the quiet between them.

"I’m fine, Cashew," Florian murmured, his voice distant. "Just... thinking about a lot of things."

His gaze drifted to the ceiling, unfocused. The problem was that his thoughts weren’t quieting—if anything, they’d grown louder.

Specifically, the problem was Hendrix. Or rather... not Hendrix.

Because Florian was now certain—Hendrix wasn’t the one who’d tried to harm him or Heinz. His instincts scread it. The tiline didn’t make sense, and everything he’d heard about the reclusive prince didn’t match with what had happened. The magic... the presence that night... it didn’t feel like Hendrix.

And yet, Florian couldn’t stop thinking about him.

’Why do I keep circling back to him?’ he thought, frustrated. ’It’s like the more I rule him out, the more I feel like sothing’s still not right. But not because he’s a threat...’

His eyes slid to Cashew.

The boy stood by the bed now, holding a cloth between his fingers that he’d ant to use for dusting, but hadn’t moved in a while. His expression was a mix of concern and confusion, like he wanted to help but didn’t know how.

’...and I also have Cashew to deal with.’

"Hey, Cashew..." Florian called, voice soft, but laced with sothing new.

Cashew perked up. "Yes, Your Highness?"

"By the way, Your Highness... about Cashew," Lucius had said earlier, just before leaving with a plate of half-eaten cookies and biscuits.

"Hm?" Florian had responded, distractedly.

Florian turned his head more fully now, eyes sharper. "Can you tell why it took you so long to get here today? I assud you’d be waiting when I ca back earlier."

Cashew stiffened.

It was subtle—but not subtle enough. He was still just a kid, after all. He hadn’t learned how to fully mask his reactions. His hands gripped the cloth a little tighter. His gaze dipped to the floor.

"I... I was helping so of the maids with a task, Your Highness," he answered, bowing his head slightly. "I’m sorry."

Florian studied him, expression unreadable. Cashew looked... pitiful, really. His posture was apologetic, his voice ek. There was no trace of defiance—only nervousness and sha.

But...

"I know what I said earlier about Cashew helping so maids for a few tasks," Lucius had said, tone lower than usual. He stood by the doorway, one hand still on the knob.

"But I rembered sothing just now."

Florian had frowned. "What is it?"

"I know the maids Cashew’s close with—the ones he helps often."

"Uh huh?"

"They’re so of the few won I can tolerate speaking with. And as far as I recall, today is their off day. None of them were supposed to be working."

Lucius had raised the plate slightly. "And when I saw Cashew, he was already holding these biscuits. Look, I understand I might be overstepping, but... it’s unlike Cashew to hand over sothing like this to . Especially if it’s part of a task. And he already seed to know you were back."

Florian had paused, heart skipping.

"I just—" Lucius had started again.

"I understand," Florian had cut in, voice quiet but firm.

Lucius had hesitated. "Do you... really?"

Florian had nodded. "Just let handle it, please. And... please don’t ntion this to His Majesty."

Florian’s fingers curled slightly into the sheets.

It couldn’t have been a coincidence... right?

Cashew just happened to be away when the stranger slipped into his room? And returned only after Alexandria had arrived?

’If she hadn’t been there...’ The thought made sothing cold settle in his chest. ’Would I even still be here?’

But Florian didn’t want to jump to conclusions. He wanted to believe in Cashew, in the quiet loyalty he always showed. In the way he smiled or brought him tea.

He wanted to believe it.

But wanting didn’t make it true.

And if there was even a chance...

’I have to be careful. I can’t let him know I suspect anything...I can’t risk pushing him away.’

His voice, when he next spoke, was gentler. "I see. It’s alright, Cashew. Just... next ti, let know ahead of ti if you’re going to be gone. Alright?"

Cashew blinked, clearly surprised at the leniency. Then he nodded quickly, a little too quickly. "Yes, Your Highness. I’ll make sure of it."

Florian gave him a small, tired smile and turned his head away.

But his thoughts kept racing.

’I have to find away to get him to confess.’