Help! Get Me Out of My Sister's Chapter 389: ’Say It.’

"What?" Florian’s voice trembled, but his feet were already moving toward Lucius. "Say it again."

His stomach twisted violently. He felt like throwing up.

"Say it again, Lucius." Florian repeated, louder this ti, his hands trembling as they clenched tightly at his sides.

Around them, the room was filled with sharp gasps. So princesses broke down, sobbing uncontrollably, while others stood frozen, their hands covering their mouths in disbelief and horror.

Florian barely heard them. His ears were ringing. His vision was narrowing.

Heinz... Heinz stood deathly still. Wide-eyed. Silent. But it wasn’t the kind of silence that was calm. No. Florian could feel it—a storm was brewing inside him. Sothing violent. Sothing dangerous.

And as for himself?

Florian’s heart pounded so loudly it echoed in his ears. His hands were ice cold. His mouth dry.

"Say it again... Say it to again." His voice broke. "Lancelot. You say it."

Lancelot, who had just arrived, stood stiffly. His face was a mask of stoicism, but Florian could tell—his clenched jaw, the subtle tremble of his fingers gripping the hilt of his sword. Even a knight like him was struggling to contain himself.

Lancelot inhaled sharply before bowing his head.

"...Delilah is dead."

Florian felt the air leave his lungs.

’Dead.’

’What the fuck happened?’

His eyes widened, breath hitching painfully. As if hearing it once wasn’t enough, now it was confird. Solid. Real.

Delilah... was dead.

His mind spun. ’How? Why? What the hell happened? She was in custody. Weren’t there knights?! Weren’t there guards?!’

Questions flooded his head like a tidal wave, each one crashing harder than the last. But despite the rising panic in his chest, Florian forced himself to hold back. ’Let Heinz ask... Let Heinz speak first...’

"How did it happen?" Heinz’s voice ca out low. Controlled. Too controlled. The type of calm that was leagues more terrifying than any shout.

Lucius shifted, clearly uncomfortable. "Your Majesty... I believe it’s best we speak of this elsewhere. Or at least have the princesses excu—"

"How. Did. It. Happen." Heinz cut him off sharply, his red eyes glowing—dangerously close to igniting.

Lucius visibly tensed. His mouth opened, then closed, before he finally sighed and glanced sideways—wordlessly passing the responsibility.

Lancelot stepped forward, back straight like a soldier ready to deliver a death sentence.

"My knights were stationed with Miss Delilah when it occurred," he began, voice stiff but steady. "According to them... it began with her coughing. Then... vomiting. One of the knights rushed to fetch the royal physician, but before he could return... she cried out in pain."

Lancelot’s hands clenched tighter. "Blood... She coughed blood. Then her skin... her skin started to blister, as if burned from the inside out. Within monts..." He exhaled shakily. "...she was dead."

A collective gasp echoed through the room.

Athena collapsed into Mira’s arms, sobbing uncontrollably. "W-What... What...?"

Mira squeezed her eyes shut, turning her face away. "That’s... horrific..."

Lucius stepped back in, voice grim. "Based on the symptoms, we are certain it was poison. Sothing... fast-acting. Instantaneous once it began."

"But... how?!" Florian burst out, voice cracking. "No one’s allowed in the dungeon except guards! You oversaw her food, didn’t you?"

"I did," Lucius confird, grim-faced. "I was ticulous. Every al tasted, every cup checked. There was no sign of tampering. No unauthorized entries."

’Then how?! Poison doesn’t just fall from the sky!’ Florian gritted his teeth. His fists were shaking.

"Is it... Could it be magic? Poison magic?" he asked, desperately searching for an answer. "Is that possible?"

"No." Heinz’s voice was steel. "Not even a high-level Arcanior could conjure poison through barriers. And not sothing that potent."

"Tch." Florian clicked his tongue, eyes narrowing. His gaze flicked between Lucius and Lancelot.

’Wait...’

’Hold on...’

He knew them. Knew them too well. The subtle shifts in posture. The stiffness that wasn’t typical for either of them.

They were hiding sothing.

’No. No, you’re not telling us everything.’

Florian’s eyes sharpened, and when he spoke, it was loud enough for the entire room to hear.

"...Lucius. Lancelot. You’re not telling us sothing."

The air stilled. Every pair of eyes snapped toward him.

Even the crying stopped.

Lucius flinched. "Your Highness..."

"You are," Florian pressed. "You’re holding sothing back."

Lucius straightened, but there was guilt in his eyes. "Your Highness... I would strongly recomnd that the princesses leave before—"

"Why?" Heinz’s voice dropped several octaves, laced with sothing dark, threatening. His eyes glowed brighter—dangerous. "Why must the princesses leave?"

He turned, sweeping his gaze across the room. "Delilah was their head maid. Their confidant. Regardless of her cris, don’t they deserve to know what happened?"

The princesses exchanged nervous, tearful glances, trembling under Heinz’s gaze.

Surprisingly, it was Alexandria who stepped forward. Her chin raised slightly, her face composed despite the shimr of unshed tears.

"Yes, Your Majesty," she said quietly but firmly. "We... would like to know. We have the right to know."

Florian blinked. ’She’s holding it together... Probably for the others.’

He glanced around. Athena was still sobbing. Mira was pale as snow. Even Scarlett had her face hidden behind her hands, tears staining her cheeks.

Florian’s throat tightened. ’I didn’t like her... but not like this. Not dead. Not like this...’

Lancelot inhaled sharply, his jaw tensing. His eyes flicked toward Florian, then briefly at Heinz, as if weighing whether to speak or not. But in the end, duty won over hesitation.

"We asked the princesses to leave because..." Lancelot’s voice was low, tight, "...there was one thing the knights found. Sothing... suspicious. Sothing that could’ve possibly killed Delilah."

He paused. His gaze hardened.

"...And it concerns Prince Florian."

Florian’s heart plumted.

’...? No. No, wait—what do they an ?’

His eyes widened, his breath hitching. "M-?" His voice was a whisper. His eyebrows knitted tightly. "Why ?"

Heinz straightened imdiately, posture tense, voice sharp. "Say it. Now."

Lancelot flinched slightly at the command. "Your Majesty, this... this will be—"

"Say it." Heinz growled, colder now.

"No." Florian cut in before Lancelot could finish, his voice louder than he intended. "Just say it." His fists trembled at his sides. "If it concerns , I deserve to know now. Say it."

Lucius stepped forward, clearly trying to stop it. "Your Highness, please. You don’t understand... this—this isn’t sothing that should be discussed here. It should be in private. You need to—"

"I said," Florian’s voice broke slightly but didn’t falter, "say it."

Lucius and Lancelot exchanged a tense glance. It was clear now—there was no backing out. Not with Florian looking at them like that. Not with Heinz looming like a storm behind him.

Lancelot sighed heavily, one of the rare monts the usually stoic knight showed visible discomfort. His eyes softened with regret.

And then—he said it.

"There was... a blue butterfly."

Silence.

Florian blinked. "...What?"

Lancelot’s lips pressed into a line. "A blue butterfly. Sitting on top of Delilah’s body."