Help! Get Me Out of My Sister's Novel-Chapter 572: ’God. Not Him.’

"When the serpent of fire meets the mirror of sorrow, thou shalt stand at the edge of two fates: one of ruin, one of release."

Florian murmured the words under his breath, his voice barely more than a whisper in the stillness. The syllables lingered like smoke, curling and fading into the air.

Above him, his butterflies drifted lazily through the dim light—soft, blue glimmers in the dark. They fluttered around the chandelier, wings catching faint moonlight seeping through the tall windows. Beautiful. Innocent. Unaware.

They looked so peaceful.

So clueless to the storm clawing at their master’s chest.

Florian lay sprawled across the silken sheets of his bed—the bed that once belonged to the late queen. Even the thought of that felt strange.

Wrong.

Everything about this new room felt foreign: the faint scent of lilac perfume that still clung to the walls, the heavy curtains that kept the world outside at bay, the golden mirror across from him that reflected a man he barely recognized.

He was supposed to feel safe here. But he didn’t.

He couldn’t.

He stared up at the canopy, eyes tracing the patterns in the fabric. His thoughts wouldn’t stop. Wouldn’t quiet down.

’When the serpent of fire meets the mirror of sorrow...’

The words replayed again and again in his mind—the voice, distorted and divine, echoing as if still lodged somewhere deep inside his skull.

He could still feel the chill of the air in that room. The way the candles flickered. The way Serapion’s voice had layered and multiplied until it was no longer human.

’A soul once quenched by royal flame shall awaken beneath the same sun...’

Florian exhaled shakily, pressing a hand against his chest. The rhythm of his heartbeat felt uneven. His stomach turned.

He only heard the message once, but like all divine prophecies, it branded itself into his memory—etched there, unshakable.

And though he didn’t understand it fully, one part was clear.

The Gods were giving him a choice.

A fate of ruin.

A fate of release.

He didn’t know what the "serpent of fire" or "mirror of sorrow" meant.

Maybe it was Azure—the dragon.

Or maybe it was the red one that had appeared last night.

Both breathed fire. Both were symbols of destruction. Maybe the "mirror" was himself.

Maybe it was Heinz.

None of it made perfect sense. But the ending did.

"Shouldst thou remain by the flame that ended thee, thy breath shall wither in its warmth anew..."

He shut his eyes tight. The meaning was clear enough.

If he stayed with Heinz, he would die.

Again.

Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow.

But the Gods had made it clear—they would never let him live peacefully beside the man who killed him once before.

And yet—

He felt the ache again. That unbearable, unrelenting ache.

Because the choice was obvious, wasn’t it?

He had no intention of dying again.

He couldn’t let this body die.

He couldn’t let Florian’s life be wasted too.

He already knew what he had to do.

He had to leave Heinz’s side.

But God... why did it hurt so much to think about it?

He turned his head toward the window. The moonlight spilled over him, pale and cold, outlining the sharpness of his cheekbones, the tired curve of his mouth.

He could almost see Heinz in the reflection of the glass—his red eyes, his calm voice, his touch that always lingered too long.

Florian’s throat tightened.

’He’ll never be forgiven.’

That part of the prophecy echoed next, like a whisper pressed against his ear.

The Gods had made their judgment. Heinz’s fate was sealed unless he faced his own trials—or died.

Florian sat up slowly, resting his arms on his knees, his fingers curling tightly around the sheets.

’No light shall touch him...’

Maybe that was the punishment. 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝙚𝙬𝓮𝙗𝒏𝙤𝒗𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝒐𝓶

Maybe that was why Heinz’s presence always felt heavy—why every happiness with him came with fear, why every touch came with guilt.

It was all cursed. All of it.

Florian exhaled, trembling.

He looked up again at the butterflies drifting above him, wings glimmering softly like faint blue stars. They circled once, twice—then gathered near the ceiling, their glow reflecting faintly against his eyes.

"I’ve had to kill because of him," Florian whispered, voice breaking at the edges. "I don’t want to have to do that again. Not anymore."

His words drifted into the quiet room, fragile and aching.

The butterflies above him fluttered in slow, weightless patterns, their faint blue glow painting moving shadows across the walls.

Their wings sounded almost like sighs in the silence.

He tilted his head back, staring at the canopy above him, fighting the pressure building behind his eyes.

He felt the ache in his chest—the exhaustion, the grief, the guilt—all of it tangled together until he could hardly tell one from the other.

He just wanted peace.

He wanted to go back to his sister—to see her laugh again, to hear her voice without the echo of blood and fear in his ears.

He wanted peace for the original Florian too—the one whose body he now inhabited, whose life had been stolen and twisted by destiny and divine punishment.

That prince deserved better.

And if it was the last thing he did, he’d make sure Florian got it.

Whether it meant bringing him back to Floramatria...

Or siding with Hendrix.

He didn’t care what he had to do anymore.

If working with Hendrix could guarantee even a sliver of freedom—a chance to start again—then he would take it.

Even if it meant betraying Heinz.

Even if it meant standing against the man who once swore to protect him.

He’d make sure someone lived a peaceful, happy life. Even if it wasn’t him.

Florian’s fingers dug into the blanket, knuckles pale. His voice came out low, shaky.

"I don’t know where he went after looking for his mother, but surely..." He exhaled sharply through his nose, his tone trembling. "If I look for him, he’ll appear... right? His family’s still here, so his mother must still be here. I just—"

Knock.

A soft sound.

Then another.

Knock. Knock.

Florian froze. His head snapped toward the door, breath catching in his throat.

The butterflies stilled mid-air, then scattered, their glow flickering as they disappeared into the corners of the room.

He rose slowly from the bed, bare feet pressing into the cold marble floor.

’That could be Hendrix... maybe he heard me talking.’

His chest tightened.

Or Cashew.

Or someone else entirely.

But when the voice came, all air left his lungs.

"Florian, I know you’re awake."

That voice.

Deep, controlled, and unmistakably familiar.

His heart stopped.

’God. Not him.’

He didn’t need to see him to know. That tone—steady but heavy—was burned into his memory. It carried too much regret.

There was no authority.

It wasn’t a king.

It was just...Heinz...

"Can we talk?" came the next words, softer this time.

Hesitant.

Florian closed his eyes, jaw tightening. A groan slipped out before he could stop it.

The last person he wanted to see. The last person he could handle right now.

And yet despite Heinz’s tone...

He was still the king.

No matter how much Florian wanted to scream, to run, to lock the door and pretend he didn’t exist—he couldn’t.

He was still under Heinz’s rule. Still trapped in this palace.

Florian exhaled through his nose, forcing his voice steady even as his heart beat unsteadily in his chest.

"Come in."