Help! Get Me Out of My Sister's Chapter 44: ’This is the worst’

Florian was reluctantly dragged out of bed by Lucius, his protests falling on deaf ears. Despite still being in shock that the red-haired princess—who, by all appearances, seed to lack even a modicum of wit—had managed to outsmart him, he had no choice but to plan how he’d approach each princess during lunch.

"Rember, Your Highness," Lucius began, adjusting his gloves as he spoke. "Use their likes and dislikes to your advantage."

"And if it doesn’t work?" Florian asked, his voice tinged with annoyance and a hint of desperation.

Lucius cast a glance at Cashew, who was standing nearby, an apologetic expression plastered across his face. Without a word, Cashew pointed to the freshly washed maid outfit hanging by the wardrobe. Florian followed his gaze, and his eyes widened in horror.

"If it doesn’t work, it’s back to being Kaz the maid," Lucius said, his tone a perfect blend of amusent and seriousness.

’God, why? I’m sorry for naming my maid self after my sister! You don’t have to punish by making act like a maid again!’ Florian lanted silently, already on the verge of sulking again. But before he could dive into his pity party, he froze as a hand gently touched his cheek.

Florian jumped, startled, and turned to find Lucius standing alarmingly close, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "What are you doing?" Florian asked, his voice cracking slightly in embarrassnt. ’Isn’t he being a little too comfortable?!’

"Hm?" Lucius tilted his head, feigning innocence. "I’m simply fixing your hair, Your Highness. Keep in mind, physical appearance plays a key role in leaving a good impression."

Florian narrowed his eyes at him, clearly unconvinced. ’My BL senses are tingling, and I don’t like it.’

It didn’t take long for Florian to realize where he had gone wrong. He had committed the cardinal sin of transmigration—the one thing that made every romantic subplot inevitable.

He had shown Lucius kindness.

His naturally soft heart hadn’t allowed him to ignore the butler’s pain, especially after what he learned of Lucius’s trauma. And now? ’He’s about to give trauma by continuing this eerily romantic scene!’

Florian jerked his head away and stepped back, putting distance between them. "First of all, that advice only applies to first impressions. I’ve already t them multiple tis. I’m trying to change their impression of , not create one."

"Still the sa principle, Your Highness," Lucius said coolly, clearly enjoying the banter.

"It really isn’t," Florian shot back.

"It really is."

’Is he... is he actually being childish right now?’ Florian thought incredulously, crossing his arms over his chest. He turned to Cashew, who was watching the exchange with an amused curiosity. "It’s not the sa, right, Cashew?"

Lucius raised an eyebrow and turned his attention to the young servant. "It is the sa, isn’t it, Cashew?"

Cashew’s eyes darted nervously between the two, but loyalty was never in question. "It... It isn’t, Your Highness," he finally stamred, earning a victorious smile and a thumbs-up from Florian.

Lucius sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes as he adjusted his glasses. "Very well then. Let’s not waste any more ti. Lunch is approaching, and you need to be ready. Cashew, stay here in case I need you to bring the maid outfit for His Highness."

"O-Okay, Lord Lucius," Cashew replied, shooting Florian a sympathetic look.

"I am not wearing that thing again," Florian grumbled as he grabbed his coat, preparing to leave.

Lucius chuckled softly, the sound low and almost teasing. "Then you’d best hope the princesses don’t ignore you today, Your Highness."

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

"I can’t believe they all ignored !" Florian groaned, sprawled dramatically on the floor. He refused to look up, though he could feel the weight of Cashew’s sympathetic gaze—and the sight of that maid outfit held up like a threat.

Cashew, ever the loyal servant, offered a cautious smile. "W-What happened, Your Highness?" he asked, his curiosity tinged with genuine concern.

Lucius stood next to Cashew, arms crossed, his lips twitching as he struggled to suppress a laugh. The sight of Florian reduced to such a pitiful state was, in its own way, amusing to him.

Florian finally looked up at Cashew, his eyes glistening with unshed tears as the mories of lunch ca flooding back. Each failed interaction replayed itself in vivid, excruciating detail. ’It was a disaster... no, a tragedy!’

Athena.

Florian had spotted Athena sitting quietly at the far end of the dining table, her head bent low over a book as she absentmindedly picked at her food. ’Athena’s the quiet one. If I approach her calmly and talk about sothing she likes, she won’t reject outright. Right?’

With his best attempt at a charming smile, Florian approached. "Lady Athena," he began, his tone as light as possible, "I couldn’t help but notice you’re reading. May I ask what’s caught your interest?"

Athena didn’t look up. She didn’t even flinch. Her fork moved chanically, spearing a piece of vegetable without any acknowledgent of his existence.

"Uh..." Florian cleared his throat, his confidence faltering. "I’ve been trying to get into more novels myself lately. Maybe you could recomnd—"

Before he could finish, Athena stood up abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. She closed her book with a soft thud and walked away without a word.

Florian stood there, dumbfounded. Several of the other princesses had looked over at the sound of Athena’s departure, but none of them t his eyes.

"She... left?" Cashew’s eyes widened in disbelief, his concern growing as he pieced together Florian’s recounting of events. Florian nodded grimly, his lips pressing into a thin line. anwhile, Lucius had his back turned to them, his shoulders visibly shaking.

’Oh, great. He’s laughing again,’ Florian thought sourly, glaring daggers at Lucius’s back.

"W-What happened next, Your Highness?" Cashew asked hesitantly, clutching the maid outfit tightly like it might shield him from the rising tension in the room.

Florian sighed, his gaze falling to the floor. "I tried speaking with Alexandria," he admitted, the mory still fresh—and painful.

Determined to claw back even a shred of dignity, Florian had turned his attention to Alexandria. ’She’s kind. She won’t just walk away... at least, I hope not.’

Approaching her with all the poise he could muster, he found her seated gracefully at the table, her posture impeccable and her hands folded neatly in her lap. She radiated an air of serene authority, which, unfortunately for Florian, only made his nerves worse.

"Princess Alexandria," he began, his tone carefully asured, "I couldn’t help but admire your devotion to the gods. It’s truly inspiring. I was hoping we could discuss your insights—I’ve been reflecting on spiritual matters myself lately."

Alexandria turned her gaze toward him, her blue eyes calm and unreadable. For a fleeting mont, Florian thought he saw a glimr of interest. But then her serene expression softened into sothing distant.

"That’s thoughtful of you, Prince Florian," she said softly, her voice gentle but firm, "but I prefer to keep my spiritual journey private. It’s a deeply personal matter."

Her words were perfectly polite, yet they carried the unmistakable weight of dismissal. Before Florian could even stamr out a reply, Alexandria turned her attention back to her al, her body language signaling the conversation was over.

"She was nice about it, but sohow that made it feel even worse," Florian muttered bitterly, rubbing his temples as the mory replayed itself.

Cashew frowned, his brow furrowing with sympathy. He hesitantly placed a hand on Florian’s back in an attempt to comfort him. "That’s... unfortunate, Your Highness. Truly."

Florian groaned, burying his face in his hands. "And then there was Bridget. Oh gods, Bridget..."

’Okay, deep breaths. I just need one success. Just one.’

Desperate for a win, Florian set his sights on Bridget. She was chatting animatedly with a maid, her boisterous laughter ringing through the hall. Bridget was cheerful, loud, and approachable—surely she wouldn’t shut him down like the others.

Summoning the remnants of his courage, Florian stepped into her line of sight. "Princess Bridget," he began, offering what he hoped was a charming smile, "I overheard you talking about constellations. I’ve always found the stars fascinating—perhaps you could share your thoughts?"

Bridget blinked at him, her expression unreadable for a brief mont. Then she lit up with a wide, enthusiastic grin.

"Oh, how wonderful! I’d love to discuss the stars."

For a fleeting second, Florian’s heart soared. ’Finally! Soone who’s willing to talk!’ But that glimr of hope was crushed the mont Bridget’s grin turned sly.

"So, tell , Your Highness," she said, her voice brimming with excitent, "what’s your favorite star cluster? Or do you prefer studying planetary alignnts? What’s your take on the historical accuracy of modern constellation myths? Oh! And have you studied ancient stargazing techniques?"

Florian’s brain short-circuited. His mouth opened and closed uselessly as he scrambled for an answer. "Uh... well... I..."

Bridget tilted her head, her bright smile sharpening into sothing far more mischievous. "Oh no," she gasped theatrically. "Don’t tell —you don’t actually know anything about constellations, do you?"

Florian’s face turned crimson, his embarrassnt only amplified by the muffled giggles of the maids standing nearby. "N-No, I do!" he protested weakly, but his stamring only made Bridget laugh harder.

"Nice try, Prince Florian," she said, waving him off with a chuckle. "Next ti, maybe pick a topic you actually know sothing about."

As she returned to her conversation, Florian stood there, frozen in humiliation.

"How did you even think of asking her about sothing you clearly hadn’t studied for, Your Highness?" Lucius asked, turning his sharp gaze to Florian. His voice held a mixture of curiosity and unrestrained amusent, and the sight of Florian’s flushed face only encouraged him further.

"S-Shut up, Lucius! You’re not helping at all!" Florian stamred, his hands flying up to cover his face. His ears burned with humiliation, his voice practically a squeak.

’This is the worst,’ he thought, wishing he could sink into the floor and disappear.

Lucius raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "I did try to assist you, Your Highness. I told you to talk to them about sothing you actually know."

"I panicked!" Florian snapped, glaring at him from between his fingers. His indignation only made Lucius smirk more.

Cashew, ever the peacemaker, decided to intervene before Florian combusted entirely. "H-How about the other three princesses, Your Highness?" he asked cautiously, his tone gentle.

Florian sighed, his hands slowly dropping from his face. He wanted to praise Cashew for his effort, for trying to steer the conversation into safer waters. Really, he did. But all he could think about was the absolute disaster that had unfolded.

"They nailed the coffin on ," he muttered, his voice heavy with defeat.

By the ti he reached Mira, Florian was teetering on the edge of defeat. His confidence, already fragile, hung by a thread. ’Mira’s blunt, but she’s fair. If I’m honest with her, maybe she’ll hear out. Maybe she’ll—’

"No."

Mira’s curt response hit him like a slap before he could even finish taking a breath.

Florian blinked, frozen in place. "But I didn’t even—"

"No," she repeated, her voice as sharp as a blade. Her eyes locked onto his, cold and unyielding. "I know exactly what you’re about to do, and I want no part of it."

Her tone wasn’t loud, but it was firm enough to stop Florian in his tracks. His mouth opened, searching for a rebuttal, but nothing ca out. For a mont, he just stood there, the dining hall suddenly feeling much larger, emptier, and far less forgiving.

Then ca the laughter.

Scarlett’s laugh rang out from across the table like a cruel chi. She reclined in her chair, her arms draped lazily across the armrests, her smirk practically dripping venom.

"Prince Florian," Scarlett drawled, her words slow and deliberate, like a cat toying with its prey. "A word of advice: don’t show up during al tis. No one here wants their appetite ruined."

Her comnt drew a ripple of chuckles from nearby maids and guards, but the most cutting blow ca from the princess seated beside her.

Camilla leaned in slightly, her lips curving into a mockingly sweet smile. "Honestly, it’s impressive how you keep trying. It’s almost endearing." She paused, then added with a slight tilt of her head, "Almost."

Their combined laughter echoed through the hall, the sound bouncing off the walls and digging straight into Florian’s chest.

Mira, anwhile, had already dismissed him, shaking her head as she turned back to her plate. "You brought this on yourself," she muttered under her breath, though whether it was directed at him or the universe, Florian couldn’t tell.

He stood there for a mont longer, the laughter swirling around him, each chuckle and smirk pressing down on him like a weight. His fingers curled into fists at his sides, but he didn’t have the strength to retort. Instead, he turned on his heel and walked away, his head hanging low.

"And that," Florian said bitterly, finally pushing himself up from the floor with all the dignity of a cat dragged out of a bath, "is how I beca the biggest laughingstock of the entire lunch."

Cashew, ever the loyal servant, gave him a look full of pity, holding the maid outfit like it was a lifeline. "I... I’m sorry, Your Highness," he said softly, his tone as careful as soone approaching a wounded animal.

Lucius, on the other hand, showed no such restraint. A laugh escaped him—low at first, but growing louder when Florian shot him a murderous glare. "Well," Lucius said, smirking as he adjusted his glasses, "at least you’ve made an impression. Just not the one you were hoping for."

Florian’s glare intensified, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "You’re not helping, Lucius."

Lucius shrugged with a faintly amused expression. "I’m simply stating the facts, Your Highness. Consider it constructive feedback."

"I’ll ’construct’ sothing to throw at your face," Florian muttered under his breath, though his attempt at intimidation lacked the energy to follow through.

Cashew cleared his throat nervously, his eyes darting between the two n before holding out the maid outfit a little further, as if the tension in the room would lessen if Florian just took it. "Should I...?"

Florian groaned loudly, dragging his hands down his face before reaching for the outfit with an exaggerated flourish. "Fine! Just give the stupid thing,"