Help, I'm in Another World and All the Men Are Are So Dangerous! [BL]
Chapter 53: Rocco’s Resolve

Chapter 53: Rocco’s Resolve

Wrapping Rocco’s naked body in his own clothing, the man’s expression radiated an unsettling mix of obsession and dependence.

Sylas’s wariness only deepened.

How does Rocco keep his sanity while allowing someone like this near him? Sylas thought.

This man was dangerous, anyone could see that.

If Sylas had encountered him first, there was no chance he would have recruited him as a retainer.

Quite the opposite—Sylas would have found a way to eliminate him and using indirect tactics if necessary, treating him as a disposable pawn to ensure his removal.

And yet, this monster had been utterly captivated by Rocco.

Sylas couldn’t begin to fathom the full extent of Rocco’s influence.

As Sylas’s thoughts churned, something caught his attention.

His eyes fell on a small bag that had slipped from the pocket of Rocco’s discarded jacket.

When he picking it up, he noticed it was a transparent pouch tied with a short ribbon, filled with brightly colored candies.

Did Rocco carry sweets around regularly? Sylas wondered, tilting his head in confusion.

Noticing Sylas’s discovery, Georgio spoke up. "Oh, that," he said casually.

"Young Master Rocco prepared those candies just for you. He was so excited about giving them to you so you two could get along better."

Sylas fell silent, staring at the pouch in his hand.

Georgio chuckled darkly. "Young Master Rocco’s a little bit of an idiot, isn’t he? But, well, that’s part of his charm. Adorably naive, really. I mean, trying to win over the heir of a mafia family with a bag of candy? It’s so ridiculous."

As Georgio lifted Rocco in his arms and rose to his feet, Sylas noticed a commotion in the distance.

The members of the main household has been alerted by the disturbance.

They were currently running in hurry toward them.

His stepmother had already been restrained by the Beastman slave, her screams and deranged shouts filling the air.

This much chaos will surely provide sufficient justification, Sylas thought.

His father would likely punish her and cast her out in due time.

...That is, assuming she was fortunate enough to leave with all her limbs intact.

"Take Rocco to the annex," Sylas ordered, his voice cold but steady. "He won’t be comfortable in the main house. I’ll send a doctor to check on him later."

Georgio’s expression shifted to one of mild surprise before he offered a vague, unreadable smile and nodded.

As Georgio carried Rocco away, Sylas’s gaze lingered on his brother, filled with a bittersweet yearning.

He ignored the approaching household staff and brushing past their frantic questions.

His focus remained on the small bag in his hands.

The pouch contained an assortment of colorful candies—candies that Rocco had apparently prepared for him, with the intention of smoothing things over between them.

For me, Sylas thought, incredulous. He wanted to give this to me—the feared heir of the Di Malvento family—to make their relationship better.

"...Rocco."

Silently, Sylas repeated his brother’s name in his heart.

Each time, it filled him with a warmth he had long refused to acknowledge.

It had taken him far too long to recognize this feeling as affection.

If only he had realized it two years earlier, on that fateful day, he would never have allowed Rocco to be treated so coldly in the annex.

Being left alone to endure a life of neglect.

Sylas didn’t expect forgiveness.

Nor did he aspire to be accepted as Rocco’s brother.

That was irrelevant now.

What mattered was ensuring that, from this moment forward, Rocco would face no mistreatment, no slights, no insults left unchecked.

Sylas understood that Rocco feared him.

If that was the case, then he resolved to keep his distance, to restrain himself from initiating contact unless absolutely necessary.

But one thing was clear: Rocco deserved peace.

It was a futile dream for someone born into a mafia family, where peace was a luxury no one could afford.

...But if Sylas could promise that peace to Rocco—then perhaps, just perhaps, it would be possible.

I will protect him... my one and only brother. From the ambitions of power-hungry adults—and from myself, the brother he fears.

Just as Sylas silently solidified his resolve, a voice rang out.

"Young Master! I just saw Young Master Rocco earlier—he looked like he fainted! What in the world happened?"

Philip appeared suddenly from the bushes, his expression frantic.

He scanned the area, taking in the scene: Sylas, soaking wet, the stepmother who are being restrained and hysterical, and the chaotic atmosphere.

He froze for a moment, his brows furrowing as he pieced everything together.

"Don’t tell me... that woman finally dragged Young Master Rocco into her schemes?"

"...Rocco saved me," Sylas replied evenly. "I was about to fall into the lake."

"You were about to fall into the lake?! How did that even happen—wait, did you just say Rocco? Weren’t you always saying how much you hated him—Gah!"

Sylas silenced Philip’s noisy rambling with a solid punch to the gut, leaving behind a blessed moment of quiet.

He strode purposefully toward his stepmother, who was still pinned by the Beastman slave.

Looking down at her disheveled, dirt-smeared face, he muttered coldly.

"A foolish woman. If you’d just kept Rocco out of it, your life might have been spared."

The woman’s noble status as the daughter of a distinguished duke had been her only saving grace, keeping her precarious life intact.

But now, even that was no longer enough.

She had dared to harm Rocco—Sylas’s one and only.

The unwritten rule of the Di Malvento family was clear: to harm the family’s treasure was to seal one’s fate.

"I-I don’t know what you’re talking about! I didn’t do anything! That boy fell in on his own!"

Her thickly painted makeup was smeared with dirt and grass, her once-elaborate hairstyle in complete disarray.

Her usual grandeur had crumbled into a pathetic spectacle.

Her screams were shrill and desperate, as though she had only now realized she had passed the point of no return.

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