Help! Get Me Out of My Sister's Novel

"What do you wish to talk about?" Heinz asked at last, his tone composed—polite, even—but there was an edge beneath the calm.

He had no reason to be openly hostile toward Asher. Not yet.Or maybe... he couldn’t bring himself to be.

There was something about the man—the same sharpness in his eyes, the same bone structure—that made it impossible for Heinz to fully detach. Asher was older, colder, more refined in his manner, but every movement, every quiet flicker of irritation behind his mask reminded Heinz of him.

Of Florian.

And that alone was enough to keep Heinz’s suspicions caged.

"I’m sure you already know, Your Majesty," Asher began, his tone polished, every word dipped in diplomacy. "You are, after all, a very intelligent man."

Heinz let out a slow exhale, a weary sigh that misted faintly in the cool air of the chamber. He turned away, walking toward the tall window behind his desk. Pale light spilled in, gilding the edge of his silhouette in gold.

"I assume," he said, "Queen Leticia and the Crown Princess are demanding to know why I did not give them the same message as the other royal families."

"Indeed."

Heinz didn’t need to look to know Asher was smirking again. That same quiet, infuriating confidence lingered in his voice as he continued.

"Not only that," Asher added, "they’re considering convincing the other monarchs that something is... amiss here." He clasped his hands behind his back, pacing leisurely. "They still believe the events that transpired were orchestrated. And the fact that you have yet to provide any concrete information about the attackers only deepens their suspicions."

Heinz’s expression didn’t change, though his eyes darkened slightly."That’s because there is no information," he said flatly. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

Asher hummed, feigning thought. "If you were in our position, would you believe that?"

Heinz stared out the window for a long, quiet moment."...No," he admitted.

"Right—"

"Then..." Heinz turned around. Slowly.

The motion was deliberate, sharp enough to slice through Asher’s composure. The Floramatria king froze mid-sentence, that faint smile still painted across his face—artificial, unwavering, infuriating.

"Why do you trust me, then?" Heinz asked quietly, his tone low but heavy with implication.

Asher blinked, his expression unreadable.

Heinz took a step forward, his voice dropping even lower, quieter, but sharper than any threat. "How are you so certain I have good intentions, King Asher?"

His gaze hardened, his black eyes gleaming faintly in the light."Or..." he said, narrowing his eyes, "do you not care at all—as long as Florian doesn’t return?"

Silence.

The air between them grew thick.

For a moment, neither man spoke.

"The last time we spoke," Heinz began, his tone cool but deliberate, "you kept referring to Florian as ’that boy.’ You spoke as though you never wanted him back in your kingdom."

Asher didn’t flinch—but his smile tightened, almost imperceptibly.

"As I’ve said," he replied smoothly, "my queen and my darling daughter favor him too much—"

"It’s not just that."

Heinz’s voice cut through the air. He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing as he studied the man before him. "You seem to really dislike Florian."

For the first time, Asher’s mask slipped. His eyes widened—a flicker of genuine surprise breaking through his practiced calm. But it lasted only a second.

He took a slow breath, composed himself, and smiled again.

"What I feel for that boy—for Florian—does not matter." His tone was quiet but sharp, as though daring Heinz to keep prying. "Do you not want him here anymore, Your Majesty?"

Heinz’s expression didn’t change.

But his heart did.

It lurched in his chest, a steady beat thrown off rhythm by the question.

"You’re in love with him, no?" Asher pressed, his words calm, almost taunting.

"Yes," Heinz said simply.

The admission came without hesitation. Without shame.It hung in the air like the toll of a distant bell.

Asher blinked once. Twice. Then, he chuckled lightly—empty and disbelieving. "Then it doesn’t matter what my intentions are," he said. "What matters is what you want, Your Majesty. And what you’re willing to do to avoid war."

Heinz exhaled slowly through his nose, his fingers curling against his palm.

He wanted to keep pressing—wanted to drag out the truth buried behind Asher’s words.

He wanted to know how this man could sound so indifferent when speaking about his son.

He wanted to ask if he had ever hurt Florian, or if the years of cold silence had done that all on their own.

But Asher was right.

Heinz couldn’t risk it. Not now.

And more importantly... he didn’t want Florian to return to Floramatria.

Not to a father who called him "that boy."

Not to a home that treated him like a burden.

Especially not when this Florian wasn’t even the same one Asher had abandoned.

Heinz raked a hand through his hair, exhaling softly."What do you propose I should do, then?"

Asher’s smirk returned, faint but knowing. "Well," he began, walking closer to the window where Heinz stood moments ago, "it would help if the boy himself said he wanted to stay here. Officially."

He glanced over his shoulder, eyes glinting.

"Have you... confessed to him? Has he confessed? Are you both in a relationship?"

Heinz’s jaw tightened.

"As much as my queen and Kazaria want Florian home," Asher continued, "they would respect his decision to remain here if..." He paused, tilting his head in quiet amusement.

"...and only if he truly wishes to."

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Heinz’s hand twitched at his side, his nails digging faintly into his palm.

’Would he?’ he wondered. ’Would he ever want to stay?’

He doubted it.

No—he knew it.

Florian would never choose to remain here—not by choice, not when every memory of this palace was stained with blood and regret.

But at the same time, Floramatria wasn’t his home either.Heinz could see it in his eyes whenever someone mentioned his family, whenever that kingdom’s name was spoken. That faint flicker of distance. Of something else.

Because what Florian really wanted... wasn’t here.

’He just wants to go home,’ Heinz realized bitterly.’To where he’s actually from.’

He wanted to go back—not to Floramatria, not to this cursed life of crowns and gods and ghosts—but as Aden.

To his real world.

And to bring back the original Florian—the one Heinz had destroyed.

"Judging by your silence," Asher said lightly, though there was something razor-sharp beneath his tone, "it seems you are not too sure."

Heinz exhaled, long and quiet. His voice came out rougher than he intended.

"I haven’t been the kindest to him." There was no point lying—no mask left to wear in this conversation.

Asher raised an eyebrow, a humorless smile tugging at his lips. "If I know that child," he said, his voice carrying a strange fondness that didn’t quite match his words, "then I know that no matter how unkind you are, he’ll always wag his cute little tail to please you."

The man crossed his arms, posture relaxed but his tone cutting. "Forgive me for dropping formalities, but you must’ve royally fucked up, Your Majesty, if he’s mad at you."

Heinz’s jaw tightened. He didn’t know whether to be angry or ashamed.

The words wag his cute little tail echoed in his mind, sour and cruel, but what stung more was the truth buried underneath.

Because Asher was right.

Heinz had fucked up.

And it wasn’t just a mistake. It wasn’t something that could be undone or forgiven with words. It was something far deeper—something monstrous.

A sin.

He had killed the original Florian. Erased him. Buried his name beneath guilt and time.

And now, he had fallen again—for the one who bore his face but carried another soul. And even then, even after being given a second chance, he hadn’t treated him as he should have.

He had failed him again.

"Perhaps," Asher continued casually, breaking Heinz’s spiral, "you should try a little harder to woo him."

He smirked faintly, leaning back with the careless arrogance of someone who enjoyed holding power in a conversation. "He’ll give in eventually. After all, you’re the most coveted bachelor among all the kingdoms."

Heinz didn’t move. He only stared at him, eyes unreadable.

Asher’s smirk deepened. "And I know, in my heart," he added with a mocking sort of warmth, "that boy has feelings for you. I saw how he looked at you when you danced together. Oh, how I was reminded of how I once looked at my darling queen."

He chuckled softly, the sound low and amused.

Heinz said nothing.

He wanted to believe it. Wanted to cling to that small, fragile hope that somewhere behind Florian’s cold stare and tired voice, there was still something—something that hadn’t yet shattered beyond repair.

But deep down, he knew what Asher was doing.

Flattering him. Feeding him the words he wanted to hear, just to make sure Florian stayed. Because as long as Florian remained in Concordia, Asher could keep his hands clean.

Heinz’s silence stretched. The tension in his shoulders refused to ease.

He was willing to do anything for Florian—he’d already proven that.But the kingdom was burning. The nobles were restless. The gods themselves seemed to conspire against him.

And through it all, the one person he wanted to protect most was slipping further away.

’Fuck.’

The thought burned through his skull like fire. He wanted to destroy something—tear the room apart, break the glass, scream. Anything to drown the feeling clawing at his chest.

But where had his anger ever gotten him before?

Nowhere.

It had only destroyed what little he’d managed to love.

He clenched his fists, forcing himself to stay still.

Then Asher’s voice broke the silence again.

"Speaking of the boy..." The man’s tone was suddenly casual, as if they hadn’t just treaded on sacred ground. "Where is he? He hasn’t shown himself to us since the ball."