Help! Get Me Out of My Sister's Chapter 37: ’Not The Real Florian’

"As you know, Your Highness, I am the son of a duke," Lucius began, his voice steady yet carrying an undercurrent of hesitation. He removed his glasses, carefully setting them aside as if they were a shield he no longer needed. "When I was younger, my mother and father often went out, leaving in the care of a maid—a nanny."

’I already know this story,’ Florian thought, though he kept his expression neutral, pretending to hear it for the first ti. The mory of what had just almost happened still lingered in his mind, alongside the confusion of seeing a mory from the original Florian that hadn’t yet co to pass.

"That nanny..." Lucius paused, his gaze falling to the floor. "She apparently had so... feelings for , despite the fact that I was a child. And she acted upon her desires." His words were clipped, each one a struggle to voice. Lucius didn’t elaborate further, and Florian gave him a subtle nod, signaling he understood without needing to hear more.

"I know you think I dislike won, Your Highness," Lucius continued, his voice quieter now.

"Yeah," Florian replied simply, his tone soft but encouraging.

"It’s not that I dislike won," Lucius clarified, his jaw tightening. "I dislike won who remind of her—of how she treated . Of what she did..."

Florian’s chest ached, though he wasn’t sure if it was his own emotions or remnants of the original Florian’s feelings bleeding through.

"Earlier today, Princess Scarlett saw ," Lucius continued, his expression darkening. "She was angry about taking your side and getting her into trouble. She... cornered ." His hands clenched into fists as his voice wavered, his usual composure cracking. "She told I should take responsibility for her. And I... couldn’t do anything. She’s a princess, after all."

’Scarlett,’ Florian thought bitterly. ’I knew she had a thing for handso n, but cornering Lucius? Really?’

"mories of that nanny flooded my mind," Lucius admitted, his voice trembling slightly. "And I just... I just wanted to see you, Your Highness. You..." His eyes t Florian’s, regret etched deeply into his features.

"I apologize for my actions. You’ve changed so much. Not long ago, you were obsessed with His Majesty, acting like you couldn’t breathe without his attention. And now, you’ve moved on in just a matter of days. You’re... different. You feel like a different person entirely."

’That’s because I am,’ Florian thought, a pang of guilt settling in his chest. ’I’m not the original Florian.’

"And yet," Lucius continued, his voice dropping to a whisper, "I rembered how you used to try and seduce . I never felt fear when you did. I never felt disgusted. Even though I’d never considered relationships between n before, I..." He hesitated, his cheeks flushing faintly. "I thought I could erase those mories of her by replacing them with you. I thought you could make it better."

Florian’s breath caught at the unexpected confession. ’It’s just like in the novel,’ he thought. ’And just like the mory I saw—except this ti, we didn’t... nothing happened. Sothing changed.’

"I am deeply sorry, Your Highness," Lucius said, his voice cracking slightly. "For forcing myself on you. For making you feel afraid. And yet..." His gaze fell to the floor again. "You looked at with pity. Even when you should’ve been terrified, you still managed to... feel bad for . And I—" He choked on his words. "I’m no better than her in the end—"

"Stop." Florian cut him off, his voice firm but not unkind.

Lucius’ eyes widened in surprise, his lips parting slightly, but no words ca out.

"I made mistakes. You made mistakes. That’s it," Florian said, his tone steady. "I had my reasons. You had yours. That’s it." He leaned forward slightly, eting Lucius’ gaze with an intensity that softened only as he continued. "What you did... I can forgive you. Because you stopped. You still found it in yourself to stop."

Lucius’ lips trembled, his usual stoic mask completely shattered.

"That’s sothing that nanny couldn’t do," Florian added, his voice quieter now.

It was true. As much as Florian had felt uncomfortable—terrified even—Lucius had managed to stop himself. That alone set him apart.

And deep down, Florian couldn’t shake the strange responsibility he felt for Lucius. After all, he and Kaz had created him. Lucius was a character they had designed, soone whose pain and past they had written into existence. The weight of that realization made it impossible for Florian to be truly angry.

"I forgive you, Lucius," Florian said softly, offering him a small, tentative smile. "So stop moping around. I’m not used to seeing you like this—it’s weird."

Lucius blinked, his brows furrowing slightly, as if trying to process what he had just heard. His lips parted as he studied Florian, his expression a mix of disbelief and curiosity. "Your Highness... really... what happened to you?" he asked quietly, his voice laced with genuine confusion.

Florian tilted his head, feigning an air of nonchalance. "I got hit in the head. Maybe you need it too," he said, scooting closer to Lucius. Without warning, he gave Lucius a light, playful smack on the head—just enough to startle him but not hurt him.

Lucius froze, stunned by the unexpected gesture.

"There. All fixed," Florian said with a smirk. "Now, once you’ve sorted yourself out, please find Cashew. I’m getting worried. It’s already lunchti, and he’s still not back."

For a long mont, Lucius simply stared at him, as if trying to decipher the enigma that Florian had beco. Then, unexpectedly, a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Please dress yourself differently, Your Highness," he said as he stood, brushing imaginary dust from his coat. "Soone might see you in that... outfit. And we wouldn’t want that."

Florian raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "But I thought I wasn’t allowed to dress myself?"

"No one has to know," Lucius replied smoothly, bowing his head. "I shall return with Cashew and your lunch, Your Highness."

Without waiting for a response, he turned and made his way to the door. His movents were asured, composed—almost as if the earlier tension had evaporated into thin air. As the door clicked shut behind him, silence filled the room.

The mont Florian was alone, his body betrayed him. His legs gave out, and he collapsed onto the floor with a shaky exhale. His heart pounded against his ribcage, his breaths coming in uneven gasps as if he had just run a marathon.

"What... the... fuck..." he whispered to himself, staring blankly at the floor.