Help! Get Me Out of My Sister's Chapter 463: ’All Of This Already Happened.’

’So much livelier now than I was before so...’

Hendrix really does rember the past.

Doesn’t he?

Florian continued to stare up at him, his breath caught in his throat as Hendrix’s hand remained gently on his cheek.

The way Hendrix was looking down at him—with such fondness, such familiarity—it made sothing heavy stir in Florian’s chest.

Why... did he feel guilty?

"J-Just tell ... about this future. You... You told Cashew about a future where I died..." Florian’s voice faltered slightly, tripping over his words. He was montarily thrown off by the softness in Hendrix’s gaze, the quiet intensity behind it.

Hendrix’s eyes dropped, his expression shifting—mournful now, regretful.

He looked... genuinely sad.

"Right," Hendrix murmured, his thumb brushing lightly over Florian’s cheek. "I have to tell you the truth, Your Highness. Or rather... I believe I should show you the truth instead."

"Huh?" Florian blinked, confused.

What did he an by show?

"May I?" Hendrix asked gently.

Florian tilted his head. "May you what? I’m... confused." And he truly was. Hendrix’s words felt like riddles, and Florian could barely keep up.

"May I show you the truth?"

Florian blinked again, realization dawning.

Oh.

Hendrix wanted to show him what happened—what truly happened—in their first life. Not just what the novel told him. Not just what the original Florian had revealed in fragnts. But the rest. The missing pieces. The raw, unfiltered mories.

The ones that might hurt.

Florian’s chest tightened. He wanted to say yes. He was curious—desperate, even—for answers. But...

"Uhm..." His voice trembled slightly. His hands clenched and unclenched by his sides. Sothing inside him recoiled, pulled back. Because all he could rember was—

The kidnappers. Forcing foreign, violent mories into his head.

Stabbing him when he tried to resist.

The pain. The terror. The helplessness.

It all flashed before his eyes.

And Hendrix must’ve seen it. That flicker of fear in his expression.

"What’s wrong?" Hendrix asked, his voice still calm, but now layered with concern.

"I uh... I got kidnapped recently," Florian admitted quietly, eyes dropping to the floor.

"I’ve heard of that," Hendrix said gently. "Is there... anything making you uncomfortable?"

"W-Well... you, you’re the strange man, right...? I... you were the one who showed that... vision...?"

A small smile tugged at Hendrix’s lips. "So it did work. And you do rember."

Florian gave a reluctant nod.

"My... kidnappers did the sa," he murmured. "But... they showed traumatic mories. They... used it to torture . If... if you’re going to do the sa, I..."

His voice cracked, just a little. He wasn’t used to being this vulnerable. This exposed.

But he couldn’t go through that again. Not right now.

Hendrix’s smile faded into sothing softer. Understanding.

"It’s fine," he said gently. "Take your ti, then. May I just talk instead? Tell you why I’m here, the truth about everything. About my brother. About... us, Your Highness?"

Florian exhaled, then nodded slowly. "Alright," he said, finally stepping away from Hendrix’s touch. He paused, glancing back. "Also... please stop calling ’Your Highness’. You have a much higher status than , so it’s a bit awkward."

Hendrix chuckled at that. A quiet, almost nostalgic laugh.

"You said the exact sa thing."

’Really?’ Florian blinked. The original Florian told him the exact sa thing?

His brows furrowed as he walked across the room toward the intricately carved couch. He sat down slowly, taking a mont to steady himself. Then, he lifted his hand and gestured toward the seat adjacent to his.

Hendrix followed without a word, settling onto the opposite couch so that they were facing each other—two lifetis caught between them.

There was a mont of silence between them. Hendrix simply stared at Florian—calm, composed, and unreadable. anwhile, Florian tried his best not to shift uncomfortably under the weight of that stare. It wasn’t hostile... but it was heavy.

Hendrix didn’t seem like he planned to speak first. So, to ease the thick quiet and avoid spiraling into more awkward tension, Florian finally opened his mouth.

"You showed a vision," he began, tone steady, guarded. "You ntioned to Cashew that I was going to get executed in the future... and yet, you speak as if we’ve known each other for a long ti. You always refer to in the past tense. So I’m confused."

He kept his expression as neutral as possible, even while subtly mimicking the real Florian’s mannerisms—clueless, composed, and careful. His hands folded neatly on his lap as he continued.

"You’re Prince Hendrix Obsidian, so I don’t think we’ve t before that incident... before you showed up as the strange man. Yet you speak with so much familiarity."

Hendrix’s smile twitched wider—subtle, but undeniably there. Almost amused.

’They’re so similar yet at the sa ti not.’ Florian thought, eyes narrowing just a little as he studied him. Heinz and Hendrix—both were Obsidian princes, both looked nearly identical, yet... there was sothing off. Sothing fundantally different beneath the surface.

"To tell you the truth..." Hendrix finally spoke, voice low but steady, his expression softening. He took a breath. "What I showed Cashew. What I showed you. And... what I’m about to tell you now—it’s not the future."

He paused.

"It’s the past."

Florian’s eyes widened a little, his posture tightening. That—that wasn’t what he expected.

Hendrix wasn’t going to dance around it.

He was going to tell him everything?

That was... new.

"The... past?" Florian echoed, his voice laced with disbelief. He furrowed his brows, adding a slight scoff under his breath for effect.

"Rather, our first life," Hendrix clarified gently.

There was a beat of silence. Then Florian let out a small laugh. Sharp, slightly amused.

"My, who knew the second prince was such a jokester," he said, tone lightly teasing—feigning denial, to make his disbelief more convincing. He leaned back slightly, just enough to signal doubt.

But Hendrix didn’t flinch. His expression didn’t shift.

He was serious.

"I am telling you the truth," Hendrix said quietly, firmly. "All of this... it’s already happened."

His eyes t Florian’s without wavering. There was no hesitation, only certainty.

"I know it’s hard to believe. But the proof was in the mory I showed you. Deep inside, you already have that mory. Because the world—sohow—reset. I don’t know how. I don’t know why. But I do know that my mories remained. You and I..." Hendrix exhaled slowly, his gaze never leaving Florian’s, "we’ve t before."

Then his voice dropped, just slightly—enough for the weight of his next words to settle coldly in the room.

"And my brother... Heinz..."

Hendrix’s eyes darkened, sorrow and bitterness curling into his tone.

"He had us both executed."