Help! Get Me Out of My Sister's Chapter 339: ’I Don’t Even Care.’

The room was heavy with silence. Tense. Stifling. Not a single duke dared to speak.

Heinz, sitting with one leg crossed over the other, tilted his head slightly. His lips threatened to curl into a grin. He wanted to laugh.

’Gods...’ he thought, amused. ’I knew he had a fire in him, but telling five of the kingdom’s most powerful dukes to "shut the fuck up" and threatening them with the dungeon?’

It was outrageous. Bold. Reckless. Everything Florian shouldn’t be—and yet sohow exactly what Heinz expected of this one.

And then... that line.

Announcing with conviction that he was part of the Obsidian royal family. Declaring it like a badge of honor as he stood draped in the royal cape, the obsidian and crimson of the monarchy clashing with his soft, lilac curls. Standing tall, proud, furious—and beautiful.

’I haven’t wanted to bend him over more than I do right now.’

Heinz’s throat tightened slightly, his jaw clenching.

Florian was still leaning forward on the round table, glaring down the dukes with righteous indignation practically glowing off his skin. And that position—gods, it didn’t help. His voice still echoed in the room, and the aftershock of his fury had left all the dukes stunned into submission.

A mont passed, and then another, before slowly, every pair of eyes in the room turned toward Heinz.

They were waiting for his reaction. Expecting rebuke. Correction. Anything to show that Florian had overstepped. That Heinz would not tolerate such behavior from a re harem mber.

But all Heinz did was smirk.

’I wonder if he’d scold too if I laughed right now.’1The thought amused and excited him more than it should have.

Still, he had enough restraint not to indulge the urge. He wasn’t so teenager ruled by hormones. He knew better than to act on his body’s natural reactions—especially in front of the dukes. Especially when it concerned this Florian.

This wasn’t lust, not really. Just instinct. Chemical. Manageable.

So, keeping his smirk asured, he finally spoke. "Looks like you can continue now, Florian."

Florian turned around, looking at him.

And Heinz stilled.

’What...’

Florian was smiling.

Not sarcastically. Not bitterly. Not with the sharp, cutting edge of pride or spite.

It was genuine. Bright. Radiant.

Happy.

It stunned Heinz. His breath caught, chest tightening. It was the kind of smile soone wore when they were proud of themselves and wanted to share it with soone they trusted. It was the first ti Florian had ever looked at him like that.

Heinz’s eyes widened slightly, the corner of his mouth faltering.

’That’s... strange.’

As Florian returned to his seat beside him, the smile fading into sothing neutral again—sothing for the rest of the room—Heinz’s thoughts swirled in chaos.

’He only wanted to show that smile.’

His heartbeat thundered in his chest.

’My heart... it feels off.’

"Now, I can continue, right?" Florian asked, his voice calm and composed.

There was no response at first. Most of the dukes had returned to their typical, stone-faced expressions. But Elara—ever composed, ever astute—gave a faint, knowing smile as she nodded.

"You may go ahead, Your Highness," she said with poise.

Florian gave a respectful nod before continuing his presentation, his tone regaining the rhythm of formality and structure.

Heinz, however, didn’t hear a word of it.

He had already morized everything Florian was going to say—he’d been forced to listen to it countless tis over tea, dinner, and even casual walks. He knew every figure, every vision, every plan Florian had crafted.

Housing projects. Skill training for villagers. Creating long-term infrastructure through the use of magic—irrigation systems, crops, livestock managent. The implentation of free public schools. The relocation of villages suffering the sa neglect as Forgotten Waters.

Yes, Heinz knew all of it.

So instead of listening, he watched.

Watched the way Florian’s lips moved. The way his hands gestured as he explained. The way his brow furrowed in concentration and his voice rose with passion at certain parts.

He was breathtaking.

Of course, Heinz already knew that. He had known it for a while now. But what startled him was the sheer unreality of it. The fact that this was real. That he could sit here and look at Florian like this. That this beautiful, defiant, clever man was here, in the flesh, right beside him.

’It really is a blessing... that this Florian isn’t the sa as the one from my first life.’

But even as the thought brought him relief, it carried questions. Quiet doubts that never stopped whispering at the back of his mind.

’Who is he really? Who was he before being Florian?

’Where is he from? And what exactly does he an when he says he wants to go ho? Back to his "original body"?’

Because if that happened... if he did go back...

Would that old Florian return?

Heinz clenched his jaw.

He had promised—once the killer was caught, once the truth was revealed—that he would do everything in his power to speak to the God who helped Florian and return him to where he belonged.

He’d ant it.

But now... he wasn’t so sure.

’He’s made so many bonds here... Cashew, even Lucius and Lancelot—they’ve changed so much because of him. Even Azure seems completely attached to him now.’

’Does he still want to leave all of that behind?’

’Why can’t he just stay?’

The thought settled in his chest like a stone.

Heinz furrowed his brows, hand balling slightly into a fist on the armrest.

’Why am I thinking this? This is ridiculous.’

"Your Majesty?"

The sudden voice pulled Heinz from his spiraling thoughts.

Florian had turned to look at him, his expression laced with concern. There was no fear in his eyes, just honest worry—as if Heinz’s silence might have sohow been caused by him.

Heinz blinked, caught off guard.

Oh.

Had he been that obvious?

He shifted in his seat slightly, instinctively straightening his posture as his gaze swept across the room. The dukes were watching him carefully now, their expressions unreadable—but it was Florian’s face that made him pause.

His brows were ever so slightly furrowed. Green eyes wide, hesitant. He looked uncertain, the way soone does when they’re scared they’ve overstepped without aning to.

And Heinz knew this version of Florian well enough by now to read between the lines.

Of course Florian was probably worried that sothing he’d said had upset the king—worried that maybe, just maybe, he’d gone too far with the dukes, and Heinz was only now realizing it.

’He thinks I’m angry.’

The thought made Heinz’s chest tighten in the strangest way.

"No," he replied calmly, voice asured. "Of course. Carry on."

Florian didn’t answer right away. He blinked once, eyes studying Heinz’s face with quiet scrutiny, like he was trying to make absolutely sure.

That hesitation—small as it was—nearly made Heinz’s lips twitch.

A smile. Real. Unbidden. It almost surfaced.

’He really cares about what I think.’

And just like that, the ache that had been building in Heinz’s chest threatened to spread again.

Florian eventually nodded and turned back to his presentation, the worry fading slowly from his expression as he refocused on the scroll in front of him.

Heinz watched his back. His soft curls bounced just slightly as he moved. The lines of his shoulders were tense at first... but gradually relaxed, as though reassured.

Heinz exhaled slowly, quietly. No one seed to notice.

But in his mind, a single, bitter thought surfaced—unwelco, but impossible to push away.

’I’ll be fine once he leaves.’

He looked down at his hands, then clenched them briefly before relaxing again.

Florian continued speaking in the background, his voice regaining its steady rhythm. The words didn’t reach Heinz’s ears yet again.

’I don’t even care.’

WE KNOW WHAT YOU ARE