Help, I'm in Another World and All the Men Are Are So Dangerous! [BL]
Chapter 180: The Tide Turns

Chapter 180: The Tide Turns

Why does no one ever knock around me?

"Rocco! Good job! You did really well!"

As expected, it was Laxus who entered.

Behind him was the ever-smiling Makarov.

Laxus quickly ran over, and in one swift motion, snatched Rocco off Sylas’s lap.

He was squeezed tightly in Laxus’s arms, feeling warm and cozy.

However, the murderous aura he could feel from Sylas behind him made it hard to move.

Laxus might be in for a blast from Sylas any moment now.

The two of them began their usual bickering—Let go, no, die—as always.

Luckily, Makarov stepped in to mediate, so it didn’t escalate to gunfire this time.

"Now, now, you two, sit down. Let Rocco rest since he’s looking tired."

Makarov, unlike the others, seemed to have noticed that Rocco was exhausted from his acting, and Rocco appreciated it.

The moment those words were spoken, both Laxus and Sylas paused and sat down.

By the way, Rocco was sitting on Laxus’s lap.

Why is this happening?

Was there some kind of disaster waiting to happen if Rocco wasn’t seated on someone’s lap?

It felt like that was the case, given how they always refused to let him sit anywhere else.

Rocco shot a side-eyed glare, but Laxus smoothly ignored it and spoke to Sylas.

"Not bad for a stiff guy like you. Looks like you finally decided to listen to my advice."

"I did not act according to your advice. I made my own judgment and decided that strategy was the most advantageous," Sylas emphasized, stressing the "I" part.

Sylas really didn’t want to admit that he had taken Laxus’s advice, did he?

Laxus chuckled at Sylas’s words, and Rocco absentmindedly watched the exchange between them.

Then, an idea suddenly crossed his mind, so he cautiously spoke up.

"U-um, brother... Is there really a true culprit...?"

Rocco timidly raised his hand to ask the question, and Sylas blinked at him before nodding.

"Hm? Ah, yes. It’s true that our father didn’t do it. There is indeed a real culprit. So, it’s not a lie."

Rocco tilted his head, puzzled by the cryptic answer.

So... does this mean there was no lie in the earlier claim?

He hoped that was what Sylas meant.

Pouting in thought, Rocco felt Laxus poke his lips with his finger, nodding enthusiastically at Sylas’s words.

"That’s right. It’s not a lie. The real culprit hasn’t been found yet, and they haven’t been caught, but it’s a fact that there is one."

"They’ve at least fabricated a culprit, but they still haven’t found the real one, huh? Well, even if not, they’ve already prepared a made-up one, so there’s no problem," Laxus added casually.

Rocco stared, dumbfounded.

It was clear that they had fabricated the whole thing.

So, it’s a lie... He coughed awkwardly.

Well... whatever.

After all, it was true that their father wasn’t the culprit, so there was no real issue.

The person they had falsely accused might be pitiful, but since they’d been ruthlessly used by Sylas, they were probably not a good person either.

In a world like this, if you kept trying to be just and sympathetic, you wouldn’t survive.

So, Rocco decided to end the dark topic there.

"The culprit has already been handed over to the guards by Philip, and the article is circulating smoothly among the people. It won’t be long before father is released."

"This case is completely resolved! And we even managed to teach that useless king a lesson. Everything turned out perfectly," Laxus chimed in cheerfully.

Rocco shot Laxus a disapproving look.

It was true that the king didn’t seem particularly competent, but still, calling him useless was a bit much.

You shouldn’t say that about a king; he could be beheaded for disrespect like that.

"Well then, shall we go and pick up that guy Marcus?"

Makarov, who had been lounging with his legs crossed elegantly, suddenly spoke up.

At those words, Rocco’s eyes lit up, and he jumped off Laxus’s lap, running over to Makarov.

When Makarov extended his hand, Rocco eagerly took it, smiling.

"Ah, Rocco, your hands are so small. So soft and cute. Alright, let’s go with Papa!"

"They’re not small or soft! How rude! Hmph!"

Although Rocco loved Makarov because he was gentle and mature, sometimes he would say things like that.

It was hard to trust him completely.

Treating him like a baby was too much!

Hmph, hmph!

"Haha! Hmph, you’re just too cute, I’m going to pat your head!"

"Unh, stop! Stop it!"

Rocco’s face twisted with anger, but Makarov didn’t flinch at all.

Without fear, he continued to squeeze Rocco’s cheek, his fingers digging in with a playful "squish-squish" attack.

Rocco who is frustrated and a little embarrassed, finally pulled his head away from Makarov’s hand and stormed off.

Fine!

I don’t need to hold hands, he thought.

I can walk just fine on my own, cool as ever.

He huffed with an air of superiority.

...

"Dammit! Those brats, ruining my plans..."

As soon as the council ended, Wimburg returned to the duke’s residence and checked the newspaper.

As that little brat had predicted, the article was full of sensational claims about the guardianship laws, wrongful accusations, and even incriminating reports that threatened to undermine his family status.

Not only had the trust in him been shattered, but his very position was now at risk.

If things went wrong, and the royal guard decided to launch an official investigation, it could end with the revelation of his connection to that person.

If that happened, Wimburg’s life would be...

"Ugh, no... I have to do something. I have to recover from this... somehow!"

"—It’s too late."

Suddenly, something swished past Rocco’s right cheek at high speed.

A few beats later, he looked to where it had come from, and there, embedded in the wall, was a sharp arrow.

His heart began to race, a sense of dread creeping over him.

He turned around, already dreading what he would see.