Help! Get Me Out of My Sister's Novel-Chapter 548: ’Now, Who’s Crying?’

It felt like Heinz’s world came crashing down all over again.

The walls he had built inside himself—stone by stone, lie by lie—crumbled in an instant.

All the days he had forced himself to move forward, to harden, to bury what little humanity he had left... undone with a single revelation.

And the worst part?

The memories returned.

They clawed back into his mind like jagged glass.

He remembered.

The day of the execution. The day of his Florian’s execution.

He had spoken his final words, voice breaking even as he stood before the blade.

And now Heinz understood.

"I am pregnant... with your baby."

The words echoed in his skull like a death knell. His chest seized. His throat tightened.

Tears spilled down his face before he could stop them.

He remembered crying at Florian’s grave, the rain soaking through his clothes as though the world itself was mourning.

He remembered the taste of alcohol, bitter and endless, drowning himself night after night in a haze so heavy he prayed never to wake again.

He remembered begging the gods—or anyone—to take the memories away.

Because the truth had been too painful to endure.

His Florian.

His poor child.

Both dead. Both murdered. By his own order.

Because he hadn’t listened. Because he had chosen anger over trust. Because of his selfish, desperate fear.

And that heartbreak—so deep, so consuming—had led him to ruin. To weakness. To poison slipped into a simple cup of tea. That was why he had died without even knowing who had killed him. He hadn’t cared. He had welcomed it.

Everything made sense now. And the more it did, the more it broke him. His vision blurred, his chest heaving, his hands trembling violently.

A sound cut through the devastation.

A bitter, icy snicker.

He looked up—and froze.

Florian was staring at him with eyes colder than winter.

"Now... who’s crying?" Florian’s voice was sharp, merciless, every word striking like a blade. His lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile, but wasn’t pity either. "Everything you’re feeling now? Florian felt worse. He lived worse. Every single day of it—because of you. Because of your selfishness. Your stupidity."

The words gutted him.

"So don’t you dare," Florian continued, voice shaking but unrelenting. "Don’t you dare say you loved him. And don’t you dare say you love me."

He turned away.

The motion was simple, but it cut deeper than any sword.

Heinz’s throat burned. His body screamed to move, to reach out, to grab him, to beg. But he couldn’t. Not when he saw that face. That expression. The cold anger, the broken sorrow, the finality.

He was rooted to the spot, as if shackled by the very weight of his own sins.

Florian’s shoulders trembled, betraying the sobs he was holding back. He walked slowly, deliberately, each step hammering the truth deeper into Heinz’s chest. At the doorway, he paused, glancing back only for a second. His lips parted—about to say something.

But he didn’t.

He swallowed it back, his jaw tightening, and walked inside without another word.

Leaving Heinz alone.

The balcony was suddenly too vast, too empty.

As soon as Florian’s presence vanished, Heinz’s legs buckled beneath him. He dropped to the floor, the weight of his body too much to bear.

His gloved hands shook before his eyes, blurred by relentless tears that would not stop, no matter how hard he bit down on his lip, no matter how hard he tried to swallow the sound clawing out of his throat.

The mighty King of Concordia broke, hunched and trembling, his sobs torn raw into the night air.

And the only words that left his lips, pitiful and hoarse, were:

"What have I done?"

✧༺ ⏱︎ ༻✧

Florian didn’t know where he was going.

His feet carried him blindly, stumbling through the corridors, away from the music, away from the balcony, away from him.

His chest burned, his lungs squeezed tight, every breath shallow and ragged.

His legs shook violently, but still he forced himself forward.

He had to walk.

He had to keep moving.

He had to get as far as he could from the ballroom. From Heinz. From those words.

’I can’t breathe.’

The thought looped over and over, louder than the echo of his footsteps, louder than the pounding of his heart. His throat was raw from holding back sobs, but they tore free anyway, wracking his body until they broke into gasps.

He didn’t make it far.

Within minutes, his body gave out. His knees buckled, crashing against the cold floor. He collapsed fully, hands splayed on the ground, trembling.

The sudden sting of pain jolted through his body, ripping a broken yelp from his throat. It only made the tears fall harder.

"Fuck..." Florian choked out, his voice a fractured whisper. Then louder, harsher, until the word broke into a scream. "Fuck! Fuck—fuck!!!"

He slammed his fist against the floor, the sound echoing through the empty hall.

His curses kept spilling, raw and unrestrained, each one heavier than the last, as if saying them could tear the weight from his chest.

But nothing lifted.

All of Heinz’s words, his confession, the way he looked at him—it all pressed down on Florian’s ribs like iron shackles.

The memories, the revelations, the pain of truths half-hidden and truths too cruel to bear—they strangled him from the inside.

His tears blurred his vision, hot and relentless. He gasped, sobbed, cursed, until the sound of his own voice sickened him.

Florian felt angry.

Florian felt lost.

But above all—

Florian felt heartbroken.

Because as Heinz spilled his heart out to him—raw, broken, and bare—Florian’s chest betrayed him.

For a moment.

For a split second.

His heart... felt happy.

It was ridiculous. It was cruel. And yet, the warmth in Heinz’s words, the trembling in his voice—it reached him.

Even through the fury

Even through the confusion.

Even through Heinz’s lies.

It reached him.

’No... no, I can’t—’

But as he replayed every word, every touch, every desperate confession, a dreadful truth settled like lead in his chest.

Something he didn’t want to admit. Something he had buried beneath anger, beneath denial, beneath the constant reminder that this was all temporary.

But the ache in his heart refused to let him look away.

It screamed at him. It tore him apart. 𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂

Florian realized—whether he wanted to or not—that somewhere between the cruelty, the tenderness, the chaos, and the lies...

He had fallen.

He also had feeling for Heinz.