Help, I'm in Another World and All the Men Are Are So Dangerous! [BL]
Chapter 195: The Weight of Truth

Chapter 195: The Weight of Truth

Some of them, however, were beginning to look at him with hope or even worship.

Despite how suspicious Georgio’s words sounded, they—especially the master who had sent Georgio—represented the one glimmer of salvation in their lives.

In a world of despair with no hope, the light of salvation was something even the most twisted or villainous creatures couldn’t help but revere.

The bears and wolves before him were fine specimens—truly worthy candidates to be guards or pawns to protect his cute master.

"From now on, you’re free! After you finish dealing with this pig, you can run off anywhere you like! Whatever you choose to do, it’s your freedom from here on out! But..."

While tightening his grip on one of the beastmen who was about to attack the trader, Georgio whispered softly.

"Don’t you forget, okay? The one who saved you with the compassion of a god, the supreme angel, exists... and is watching."

With one last grin, he turned around on his heel.

The eyes of the beastmen glinted with expectation, blind faith, loyalty, and even affection toward the unseen "master."

Georgio had done well recruiting followers.

It had been quite the detour, but considering the results, it wasn’t a detour at all.

It had been a productive time.

Soon enough, some of these beastmen would likely knock on the doors of the Di Malvento estate.

Georgio was already looking forward to his cute master’s reaction when faced with a sea of fluffy creatures.

"—W-wait! Help me! Please, help me... GUAH!"

Oh, that pig had regained consciousness...

Georgio thought with a sigh.

If only he’d stayed unconscious, he could have died more peacefully.

Naturally, there was no time to listen to the pathetic pleas for mercy, so Georgio quietly ignored the sickening sounds of violence coming from behind him as he left the mansion.

...

That night, Rocco was being shaken along in a carriage, heading toward a certain destination.

Sitting beside him with a heavy expression was Sylas, and across from him, Philip sat, avoiding eye contact, clearly feeling awkward.

Rocco wondered if they were concerned about him remaining silent, his face devoid of emotion.

In truth, it wasn’t that he didn’t want to speak—it was simply that he didn’t have the energy to express any feelings at all.

It might be too late.

Rocco had long since come to terms with that possibility, and he was tired of hearing it repeated.

He was certain that, deep down, everyone probably thought it was just "a bunch of beastmen" and didn’t consider the situation as seriously as he did.

Rocco was the only one who was frantic, and everyone else was just being swept up in his anxiety.

He understood that.

Yet, at this moment, he was determined to drag everyone along, unwilling to let them avoid what was coming.

It was all for the sake of protecting his family.

This world was like a dark fantasy novel starring the mafia.

It was no surprise that not everything was pleasant.

Every day, someone close by would die.

That was simply the nature of the world of mafia.

Even Rocco understood that much.

Therefore, he knew that sometimes, cruel outcomes awaited.

Especially for those who were weak, without a clear role in this world.

Rocco understood this, and so he didn’t stop moving forward.

No matter what twists awaited him, as "Rocco Di Malvento," he had a responsibility to witness the outcome.

A little earlier, back in the daytime office.

Amid a heavy atmosphere, Rocco froze in place after hearing the secrets everyone had been hiding.

"—...Ragar is dead?"

His voice, when it escaped, was hoarse and empty.

It felt as though his emotions had disappeared entirely, leaving a hollow feeling that consumed him for a moment.

But then, an unbearable wave of grief and anguish hit him.

Confusion, frustration, and the overwhelming urge to scream came crashing down, and Rocco’s eyes wavered as he stood frozen, his face still and devoid of expression.

When everyone saw him, their faces seemed to say, "See, I told you so," regret evident in their eyes.

Rocco finally understood.

He saw how everyone had been working together to deceive him.

He realized why they had been so determined to keep the truth hidden, to keep it from him at all costs.

The evidence was clear—his companions were now watching the single tear running down his cheek as though it was their own pain to bear.

"Well... it’s not certain that he’s dead yet, you know? All we’ve found so far are signs of torture in an abandoned warehouse and blood stains that suggest a fatal amount of bleeding," Philip added, trying to lighten the mood.

"...Idiot, you’re practically saying there’s no hope. Shut up, stupid Philip."

Rocco’s expression grew even more unreadable in response to Philip’s hopeless follow-up, and Sylas, looking exasperated, smacked Philip on the head.

Sylas’s words only made Rocco’s spirits sink deeper, and it was hard not to think that Philip might be right.

The lack of hope wasn’t far from the truth.

The abandoned warehouse had been filled with blood stains, and most notably, the evidence that seemed to confirm the worst possible scenario.

"...Is this really... Ragar’s arm?"

Rocco gazed down at the black box placed on the table, his voice quiet as he asked.

Judging from everyone’s reactions and their hesitant nods, it seemed like the arm really was inside the box.

Ideally, Rocco would want to see it with his own eyes to confirm, but he had been stopped by his father and Sylas.

They made it clear that he absolutely should not look at it.

It was rare for both of them to speak so firmly.

No matter how many threats or other tactics were used, Rocco knew they wouldn’t allow him to go against their wishes in this case.

That left Rocco with nothing but the ability to imagine.

He couldn’t bring himself to believe that there could be a human arm in the box, but...