Help! Get Me Out of My Sister's Chapter 290: ’Before The Announcement’

"You seem nervous, Your Highness," Cashew said softly, his voice pulling Florian from his spiraling thoughts.

Florian flinched, only just managing to mask it with a shaky breath.

Azure, with his small, shimring blue wings and sleepy golden eyes, was curled up lazily on Florian’s lap, letting out a quiet yawn as he tilted his head up to peer at Florian, filled with pure, innocent curiosity.

It had been hours since Florian had left Heinz’s suffocating office—and a few more since an official summons had been delivered to the harem. The command was simple: gather at the Obsidian Throne Room. The King had an announcent.

And yet, Florian had been fidgeting ever since.

It wasn’t like usual, where summons demanded their imdiate presence. No, this ti, the command ca early, followed by an eerie silence. A warning that soone would eventually co knocking at their doors to lead them to the throne room when it was "ti."

A twisted anticipation.

’He knows I’m overthinking it. He’s doing it on purpose... drawing it out. But why? What ga is he playing now?’ Florian thought bitterly, grumbling as he waved Cashew off, trying to act unaffected.

"It’s nothing," he lied, his voice hollow even to his own ears. "Sotis, nothing good ever cos from being summoned by the King."

The dread coiled tighter in his chest, heavy and suffocating.

Cashew, ever gentle, lowered himself to his knees in front of Florian and rested his head carefully against his lap. His hands clutched lightly at Florian’s robe, almost as if trying to anchor him there.

"Do you have to go, Your Highness?" Cashew asked, his voice small, almost breaking.

Florian blinked, montarily thrown by the rawness in the boy’s voice. But the answer was obvious, wasn’t it?

"Of course I do," he said, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "He’s the King, Cashew. I can’t refuse."

And yet... deep down, a flicker of hesitation sparked.

Because Cashew wasn’t acting like he usually did. Ever since that strange man—the one who seed determined to chase Florian through every shadowed hall—Cashew had changed.

Subtle. Gentle. But different.

Sotis, Cashew would still laugh the sa way, still tuck himself by Florian’s side like a loyal little brother—but other tis... other tis there was this quiet, desperate protectiveness in his eyes.

It was getting harder to ignore.

’The man triggered the original Florian’s mories... who’s to say he didn’t show Cashew sothing, too? Sothing like... my execution.’ Florian thought grimly, his hand coming to rest atop Cashew’s soft blond hair, fingers threading through it absentmindedly.

The answer was there, right in front of him.

He just didn’t know what to do with it yet.

He wanted to confront Cashew, to coax the truth out of him—to find out who that man was—but another part of him, a much softer, much weaker part, wanted to cling to the idea that this was all just a misunderstanding.

That Cashew was still just Cashew.

A low, disgruntled growl interrupted his thoughts.

Azure let out a small huff, clearly displeased that Cashew’s head was taking up most of the precious space on Florian’s lap.

Florian chuckled under his breath, giving a sheepish smile as he reached down to pet the little dragon’s head with his free hand.

’I used to think Cashew was like a younger brother... but looking at the two of them now, it just feels like I have two stubborn sons.’ Florian thought wryly, his chest warming despite the tightness that still sat heavy there.

’One’s a ferocious little dragon for so reason hopelessly attached to , and the other is a boy who probably thinks he’s doing everything he can to save .’

There it was again.

That ache.

That deep, gnawing guilt that refused to loosen its grip on him, no matter how much he tried to justify or ignore it.

It had started after he returned from the village—the first ti he had allowed himself to realize that survival didn’t an winning.

That even if he survived the plot, there were wounds left behind that weren’t his to carry.

He had been so desperate to live, to deviate from the novel’s cruel storylines, that he hadn’t stopped to think what it ant—to live in the original Florian’s place.

Now, he couldn’t unsee it.

Heinz, the terrifying king he once feared more than anything, was no longer a looming executioner over his head. The plot had splintered. His death wasn’t inevitable anymore.

And yet... the guilt grew heavier.

Because everything—the affection, the loyalty, even the soft protectiveness Cashew and Azure showed—none of it was his.

He was just the imposter who wore Florian’s face, his voice, his body.

’Florian never even got to et Azure. And Cashew... Cashew cared about Florian in the novel too, but he was nothing more than a shadow, soone Florian never truly saw.’

In the novel, Cashew had only been able to cry when Florian was dragged to his execution, powerless and forgotten.

Now?

Now Cashew looked ready to challenge the King himself if it ant keeping Florian safe.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

None of it was supposed to belong to him.

The guilt gnawed at him because he knew, deep down, that the original Florian would have deserved this warmth, this fierce love—and he had stolen it without aning to.

But even with that knowledge—knowing he had no right to it—it didn’t make letting go any easier.

Because this wasn’t an easier situation.

Cashew peeked up at him, his wide, sorrowful eyes trembling with sothing Florian couldn’t quite place. The boy’s small fra seed even smaller now, like he was trying to shrink into the floor itself. Florian’s hand, still tangled gently in Cashew’s soft hair, stilled mid-stroke. He frowned, heart twisting painfully at the sight.

"Your Highness," Cashew whispered, voice so fragile it was barely a ripple against the silence that cloaked the room, "rember when you said before... all you wanted was to go back to your kingdom?"

Florian’s breath caught sharply in his throat.

Of course he rembered.It felt like a lifeti ago now—those desperate, shaky days when he first stumbled into this world. When nothing made sense, when fear gnawed at his sanity like a persistent tide, and escape was all he could think about. Before he knew what Heinz was capable of. Before he learned that maybe, just maybe, he could survive here long enough to find a way ho.

He nodded slowly, the motion stiff. "Yes," he said, voice quieter than he ant it to be.

Cashew hesitated.

The teen’s head dipped lower, his small hands clenching tightly into the fabric of Florian’s robes. He looked like he was battling himself, like there was sothing heavy and dangerous trapped in his chest that he didn’t know how to let out.

’Why is he taking so long? What is he so scared of?’ Florian thought, the tension winding in his chest like a tightening rope.

Seconds dragged by like hours, heavy and suffocating.

Then, finally—finally—Cashew raised his head just a little, his voice nothing more than a breath.

"What if I say... that I know how you can?"

The world tilted.

Florian froze, staring down at Cashew as if seeing him for the first ti.

’What...?’ His mind blanked, a rush of static filling his ears. ’What is he talking about?’

He opened his mouth to ask—How?What way?What do you an?—but the words never made it out.

A sharp knock shattered the heavy atmosphere.

Three raps. Hard. Deliberate.The signal they’d been warned about. The summons.

Florian stiffened, breath hitching. He flicked his gaze from the door back to Cashew, desperate, conflicted. But Cashew had already withdrawn, pulling back from Florian’s lap with chanical precision. He brushed off his robes quickly, smoothing invisible wrinkles, his face shuttered and empty like he hadn’t just cracked open Florian’s world.

"It’s ti for the announcent, Your Highness," Cashew said quietly, voice stripped of all emotion.

Florian stared at him, his chest pounding with a thousand unsaid questions, his fingers curling and uncurling helplessly at his sides.

But it was clear Cashew wouldn’t say more now.Not with soone waiting just outside that door.Not now, when everything important always seed to slip just out of his grasp.

With a sigh so heavy it felt like it dragged part of his soul with it, Florian pushed himself up to his feet. Azure, sensing the shift in the air, scrambled up from the bed and leapt onto Florian’s shoulder with a chirp, his tiny blue claws clutching the fabric carefully.

’Right. The note said to bring Azure too... for so reason. Gods, what now?’ Florian thought grimly, smoothing down his clothes with shaky hands.

"Well then," he murmured, forcing a steadiness he didn’t feel into his voice, "let us go."

Every step toward the door felt heavier than the last, as if unseen hands were trying to hold him back. His palm hovered over the doorknob for a heartbeat longer than necessary.

’I’ll ask him later,’ Florian promised himself, jaw clenching. ’Whatever he ant by that... I’ll make him tell later.’

He sucked in a breath to steady himself and pulled the door open.

And then he froze.

Words caught and died in his throat, a jolt of raw shock flashing through him like lightning.

Because it wasn’t a knight waiting there.

It wasn’t even one of the royal ssengers.

It was him.

’What?’

Florian’s mouth went dry, the blood draining from his face.

Standing in the hallway, as casually as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

Florian’s heart stuttered painfully in his chest.

"What are you doing here?..." he blurted out, voice cracking under the strain of disbelief.

"...Your Majesty?"