Help! Get Me Out of My Sister's Chapter 95: ’More Complicated’

"What a fucking day."

Florian all but collapsed onto the bed—only to instantly regret it.

The mont his body hit the mattress, a sharp, searing pain shot through his ribs, knocking the breath out of him. He sucked in a hiss through clenched teeth, his body tensing against the ache that spread through his limbs like wildfire.

"Fuck. That hurt."

His fingers curled into the sheets as he forced himself to breathe through it, waiting for the worst of the pain to subside. Slowly, carefully, he turned onto his back, wincing at the dull throbbing that lingered in his muscles.

But despite it all, despite the exhaustion weighing down on him like a lead blanket—

’At least I’m still alive.’

The thought settled deep in his chest, cold and bitter but oddly grounding. Because no matter how much everything hurt, no matter how overwhelming today had been—

’It’s better than dying.’

For the first ti since waking up in this world, Florian let himself just... breathe.

No scheming. No pretending. No calculating his next move.

Just the steady rise and fall of his chest, the muffled silence of his dimly lit room, and the overwhelming, aching fatigue pressing into his bones.

So much had happened.

Too much.

The weight of it all sat heavy in his skull, like a puzzle with too many pieces scattered in front of him—half of them missing, half of them broken.

But at the very least, he had survived. He had avoided the worst possible fate. That was sothing.

A soft fluttering sound pulled him from his thoughts.

A familiar one.

The blue butterflies—his butterflies—drifted toward him, their iridescent wings shimring in the dim glow of the room. They sward him gently, a few brushing against his face, their tiny legs and wings tickling his skin.

Florian let out a breathy laugh, the sensation light against the weight of his exhaustion.

"Hey, guys." His voice was barely above a whisper, but the butterflies reacted, fluttering more eagerly as if greeting him in return.

They hovered, circling above him, moving with eerie precision—almost like they understood him.

And honestly? At this point, he wouldn’t be surprised if they did.

A few weeks ago, they had unsettled him—their constant presence, the way they seed to always be watching, always lingering at the edges of his vision.

But now?

’They’ve kinda grown on .’

A small smile tugged at his lips before he exhaled slowly, his gaze drifting back to the ceiling.

And just like that, his thoughts circled back to Heinz.

’So, he’s a regressor, huh?’

The revelation still left a strange feeling in his chest, sothing caught between disbelief and reluctant understanding.

Regression.

It wasn’t an unfamiliar concept.

After Kaz’s failed attempt at writing a novel with a transmigration trope, she had experinted with other common clichés—reincarnation, rebirth, and, of course, regression.

A second chance. A do-over.

Characters in those stories always went back, ard with knowledge of the future, desperate to change their fates.

And Heinz—Heinz had been thrown back just a few months before his own death.

’To stop it from happening.’

The thought sent a shiver crawling down Florian’s spine.

Heinz wasn’t just the iron-fisted king who had seized power from his father. He wasn’t just the ruler who had built an empire with ruthless precision.

He was soone who had died.

And a god had been the one to send him back.

Florian inhaled sharply.

’A god. Seriously?’

That single detail changed everything.

His thoughts spun, circling back to the nightmare—the one that had plagued him ever since he woke up in this world.

The voice.

The plea.

"Save him."

His entire body tensed as a chill crawled through his veins.

Had that really been about the original Florian? Or—had it been about Heinz?

And if it was the original Florian’s warning...

How the hell had he known that Heinz was going to die?

His mind raced, pieces shifting, clicking into place but forming a picture that still made no damn sense.

And then there was Aden.

Why him?

Why had Aden been brought into this world, too?

His brows furrowed, frustration creeping in as he tried to untangle the ss of unanswered questions.

"It really doesn’t make any fucking sense, but..."

A pause.

A slow, creeping realization settled in his chest.

This situation—this new reality—wasn’t necessarily a bad one.

Heinz knew the truth now.

That alone was a huge relief.

It ant Florian wouldn’t have to keep up the exhausting charade forever. It ant there was no imdiate threat of being executed just for failing to mimic the original Florian.

And most importantly—

It gave him a chance.

A real, tangible chance at getting back ho.

His lips parted slightly as the thought solidified in his mind.

Heinz had been given a second chance by a god.

A god who had the power to manipulate fate. To bring back the dead. To rewrite the course of history.

’Which ans...’

A flicker of hope sparked in his chest.

A small, tentative smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"I can ask him to ask the god to bring back to my world."

The words left him in a whisper, barely audible, but they felt real.

Possible.

The thought wrapped around him like a lifeline, sothing solid to cling to in the storm of uncertainty.

All he had to do—

"—is help him."

"If I may ask, though... why are you telling all of this?" Florian asked, his voice steadier now, more direct.

He had been cautious with his words before, but this ti, he didn’t hold back. "I get it—you know I’m not the real Florian, and you trust because of that. But still, why? What’s my role in all of this?"

Heinz glanced at him, his red eyes gleaming under the dim lighting. "Your role remains the sa." His voice was smooth, composed. "Help find a queen. Provide with information about them. And..." He trailed off slightly, tilting his head. "Assist with certain tasks when I ask you to."

Florian narrowed his eyes. "What kind of tasks?"

"You’ll know when the ti cos."

That was a vague and completely unsatisfying answer, but before Florian could push further, Heinz added sothing that made his irritation spike.

"I already know everything that’s bound to happen. I knew this kidnapping would happen."

Florian stiffened. "If—"

He cut himself off, forcing his frustration down before it slipped into his tone.

’If you knew, then why the hell didn’t you stop it?’

The thought clawed at him, but he bit his tongue.

Because at the end of the day, Heinz was still far more powerful than him. Because no matter how much Florian disliked it, Heinz was dangerous, unpredictable, and more than a little temperantal.

But Heinz had already anticipated the question.

"I didn’t stop it because I needed to confirm sothing," he said evenly. His gaze was sharp, studying Florian’s expression like he was waiting for him to catch up. "And I’m sure you already realized it too. You even ntioned it earlier."

Florian frowned. ’I did?’

Then, it clicked.

’Oh.’

His eyes widened slightly. "You think... the mastermind behind the kidnapping is the sa person who killed you?"

Heinz nodded. "I don’t think—I’m certain."

A beat of silence.

"A lot of events from my first life..." Heinz continued, his voice lower now, "they started to feel orchestrated. Carefully planned. Florian, the princesses, and the rest of the nobility had no way of knowing, but there were multiple rebellions. Multiple assassination attempts on the princesses’ lives—even after the kidnapping."

Florian exhaled sharply. ’I know this. Because this won’t be the first ti Florian needs saving. Or gets attacked.’

It was a pattern. A dangerous one.

"By the ti I was dead," Heinz went on, "whoever killed had already spent years turning my own people against . Their goal was clear—to make despised enough that my death would be seen as a victory. That the people would welco them as Concordia’s new ruler."

Florian frowned, sothing about that logic not sitting right with him. "But... that’s not how it works though, is it?"

His voice held a hesitant lilt. He wasn’t exactly well-versed in Concordian politics, but even he knew soone couldn’t just waltz in and take the throne.

"Wouldn’t the nobility stop them? Or Lancelot? Or Lucius?"

Heinz let out a quiet chuckle—but there was no humor in it.

"Not if they were overpowered," he said simply. "Most attacks have been directed at nobility. Even the rogues who kidnapped you are known for targeting high-ranking families, not just commoners."

Florian’s head throbbed. ’This is getting even more political.’

His hands instinctively rubbed at his temples. "But what does finding a wife have to do with any of this, Your Majesty?"

Heinz’s expression didn’t change. "That’s information I’ll keep to myself. For now."

Florian sighed. ’Of course.’

"You may go now," Heinz said, waving a hand dismissively. "I’ll be summoning you, along with the princesses, tomorrow morning in the throne room."

Florian raised an eyebrow. "Because?"

Heinz’s lips curled ever so slightly. "I have an announcent to make."

There was sothing in his tone—sothing unreadable.

"It’s better if you hear it alongside them."

"I wonder what the announcent will be about..." Florian mumbled to himself, shifting onto his side.

His body felt heavy, the exhaustion finally catching up to him, settling deep into his bones. His eyelids grew heavier with each passing second, his mind drifting at the edges of consciousness.

’Whatever it is... it can wait until morning...’

The weight of the day pressed down on him, pulling him into the depths of much-needed sleep.