Help! Get Me Out of My Sister's Chapter 5: ’A Provocative Outfit, An Obsidian Door.’

"Hold on... isn’t this a bit..."

Aden stepped out of his room, the ornate purple door clicking shut behind him. The polished marble floor glead underfoot, catching the soft glow of enchanted lanterns that lined the hallway. He paused mid-step, his eyes landing on the butler standing just ahead, his posture as poised and immaculate as ever.

’Provocative.’

Heat surged to Aden’s face as he noticed the faintest flicker of surprise in the butler’s golden eyes. Though the man’s expression remained neutral, Aden could swear he saw the butler’s gaze linger—just a second too long—on his attire.

’He’s definitely judging .’

Aden tugged at the edge of his sleeve in a futile attempt to cover himself, but it was no use. The backless tunic and stomach cutout left little to the imagination, and every detail of the outfit—from the shimring gold embroidery to the barely-there fabric—seed designed to make him the center of attention.

’I feel like a hooker.’

Behind him, the soft shuffle of Cashew’s footsteps broke the awkward silence. Aden turned slightly, catching the boy’s shy, almost apologetic smile. Cashew, in his modest violet tunic and simple trousers, looked perfectly normal—functional, even.

’Why couldn’t I wear sothing like that?’ Aden thought bitterly. Or better yet, the butler’s crisp, tailored uniform. Anything would have been better than this... thing.

Aden swallowed hard, brushing his fingers against the intricate lace that draped from his sleeves. Every elent of the ensemble felt deliberately over the top. The shimring embroidery caught the light with every step, the delicate beading drew attention to his movents, and the sheer, clinging fabric left him hyperaware of every breeze.

His exposed back prickled against the cool air, and the stomach cutout made him want to curl into himself.

The butler cleared his throat delicately, pulling Aden from his spiraling thoughts. "Your Highness," he began, his voice steady and professional, though Aden thought he caught the faintest hesitation, "shall I escort you to the hall?"

’Do I have a choice?’ Aden resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he nodded stiffly, squaring his shoulders in an attempt to appear more composed. "Yes. Let’s go," he said, though his voice lacked the authority one might expect from a prince.

The butler inclined his head in a small bow before turning to lead the way. His movents were graceful and deliberate, the epito of practiced elegance.

As Aden followed, he caught Cashew’s encouraging smile again from the corner of his eye. It wasn’t mocking or judgntal—if anything, it was almost... supportive. The boy’s expression seed to say that this attire was perfectly normal. At least, normal for whoever Aden was supposed to be.

’This is just how it is,’ Aden thought. It didn’t make him feel any better.

Trailing behind the butler, Aden couldn’t shake the weight of his embarrassnt. Every step felt like a parade, the ridiculous outfit ensuring he’d draw every gaze in the palace.

Still, one thought kept circling in his mind, impossible to ignore.

’What kind of prince wears sothing like this?’

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

For the ten minutes Aden walked behind the butler, who led him through the labyrinthine halls of the palace, he quietly observed and learned a few things.

First, the butler’s na was Lucius. Aden only found this out because several maids and knights they passed greeted Lucius with utmost respect, bowing or murmuring, "Good day, Sir Lucius," as they passed.

’So, not just any butler,’ Aden noted.

Second, the servants gave Aden peculiar looks—none of them good. So glared at him with barely concealed disdain, while others regarded him with pity that made his stomach churn.

’That’s not a good sign,’ Aden thought, his unease growing with every step. ’Whoever I am, I’m definitely not well-liked.’

It made him wonder: Was this one of those stories where the protagonist reincarnates as the villain? It seed likely, given the mix of disdain and pity directed his way. Still, sothing didn’t quite fit. Villains were supposed to be intimidating, right?

Yet Cashew didn’t seem scared of him, and Lucius carried himself with the quiet authority of soone who wouldn’t tolerate being pushed around—not even by a prince like the one Aden was inhabiting.

Finally, and perhaps most importantly, Aden confird he was in a fantasy world. It was a realm vastly different from Earth, filled with magic and creatures he could have never imagined.

As they walked, Aden did his best to keep his expression neutral, but it was hard to hide his awe. The chandeliers hanging from the vaulted ceilings emitted a soft, magical glow, and outside the massive windows, he caught glimpses of incredible sights: birds with glittering scales soared through the sky, their wings shimring like gemstones. Beyond the palace grounds, rolling hills dotted with unusual, glowing flora stretched into the horizon.

It was breathtaking.

’Kaz would have loved this,’ Aden thought wistfully. His sister, with her endless love for fantastical worlds, would have been thrilled to find herself in a place like this.

After what felt like an eternity of walking, Lucius finally stopped. Aden looked ahead and imdiately felt the weight of intimidation settle on his chest.

A massive door lood before them, its surface dark and glossy like polished obsidian. Two imposing knights stood guard on either side, their heavy armor gleaming under the magical light.

But Aden wasn’t focused on the knights. His attention was locked on the door itself.

’This is... obsidian,’ he realized, his mind flashing back to his college days when he used to play Craft Mines, a ga where players could mine and craft items. Obsidian was a prized material in that ga, and the resemblance was uncanny.

Lucius stepped forward, his voice cutting through Aden’s thoughts. "I have brought Prince Florian Thornfield."

The knights didn’t speak. They simply stepped aside, bowing their heads in unison.

’Florian?’ Aden thought, the na echoing in his mind. ’That’s my na? Or—well, this body’s na?’

The na stirred sothing deep in his mory. It felt oddly familiar, as if he’d co across it before—but he couldn’t quite place where.

Lucius raised his hand, drawing Aden’s attention to the ring on his finger. The ring, which Aden hadn’t noticed until now, held a small chunk of obsidian. As Lucius moved his hand, the obsidian began to glow faintly, and with a soft rumble, the intricate locks on the massive door clicked open.

Aden stared, amazed, as the door slowly creaked open, revealing the grandeur within.

"Let us go before His Majesty arrives," Lucius said, his tone calm but firm. "Best not be late...he seems agitated today than ever."

Aden hesitated for a mont, but eventually stepped forward, the sound of his footsteps swallowed by the vastness of the chamber ahead. Just as he passed the threshold, he realized sothing was off.

He turned and saw that Cashew had stopped just outside the doorway, his small fra hesitant and still.

"You’re not coming?" Aden asked, his brow furrowed.

Cashew’s eyes widened, clearly startled by the question. Even Lucius looked montarily surprised, though he quickly masked it with a neutral expression.

’What? Did I say sothing weird?’ Aden wondered, glancing between the two. ’Are servants not allowed in this room?’

"He’s not coming, Your Highness," Lucius explained with a asured tone. "You know that when the harem is summoned, only the harem is permitted to enter."

’There it is again... the harem.’ The word made Aden’s stomach twist uncomfortably. ’Do I... have a harem?’

"Oh... okay," Aden replied awkwardly. He turned to Cashew and gave a small wave. "See you later, then."

Cashew hesitated, clearly unsure how to respond. Slowly, he lifted a hand and waved back, his expression still tinged with confusion.

As the doors closed behind him with a soft thud, Aden felt the weight of the mont settle heavily on his shoulders.

’Well, here we go,’ he thought grimly. ’Let’s see what kind of ss I’m walking into.’

"Well, well...look who decided to join us." A female voice spoke, though her tone wasn’t pleasant. "The only one in this harem that the king still hasn’t summoned privately.’

’Excuse ?’

"Prince Florian."