Help, I'm in Another World and All the Men Are Are So Dangerous! [BL]
Chapter 57: Caught in Sylas’s Grip

Chapter 57: Caught in Sylas’s Grip

The owner of the voice revealed himself—Sylas, his strikingly handsome brother, now standing mere inches from Rocco’s face.

His sharp features were marred by a scowl, and his piercing gaze left Rocco frozen in place.

Rocco’s mind flashed back to the earlier moment when this same hand had patted his head.

Is he kind... or scary?

Rocco wondered, sending a conflicted look toward Sylas, his uncertainty clear in his wide eyes.

His cheek was firmly squished for several seconds, leaving him face-to-face with Sylas’s handsome striking features.

The sheer beauty before him sent him spiraling into a mix of awe and terror.

Tears began to well up in Rocco’s eyes as he deployed his best watery-eyed plea for mercy.

Finally, Sylas’s hand released from his cheek, seemingly swayed by the pitiful appearance.

Rocco had long since abandoned any semblance of pride.

Standing before someone as unpredictable and intimidating as Sylas, there was no way his timid nature could hold steady.

Without hesitation, Rocco ran over and hid behind Philip’s back.

"Uh, what’s this?" Philip muttered, looking down in surprise. "You’re grabbing my coat and hiding behind me? Wait... is this real? Have I... been adopted by an angel?"

Rocco peeked his head cautiously from behind Philip while still clutching the hem of his coat like it was a lifeline.

His plan to secure a protector in case things went go wrong was complete.

Philip seemed to mumble something under his breath, but Rocco dismissed it as his imagination.

There was no way this ideal, composed gentleman would get flustered over someone like him.

Sylas’s cold voice cut through the moment like a blade.

"Damn you, Philip... How dare you lay a hand on my Rocco?"

"Wha—! Hold on a second! That’s not it! I didn’t do anything! The angel came to me byhimself, I swear!" Philip protested, his usual suave demeanor cracking under the accusation.

Rocco who is now fully leaning against Philip’s broad back to seek protection, found himself relaxing.

Philip’s back is so sturdy and reassuring... he thought, draping himself over it like a tired cat.

Sylas’s ominous voice broke the spell, sending shivers down Rocco’s spine.

Ignoring the situation entirely, he buried his face in Philip’s back, trying to block out the tension.

What’s his problem now? Did I do something wrong? Oh no... am I going to get killed?

Just as his trembling hit a peak, strong arms suddenly scooped him up.

Rocco yelped softly as he was effortlessly lifted into the air and pulled into a warm, firm embrace.

Startled, he tilted his head to look up.

His eyes wide open with shock when he know what happened.

The one holding him so securely wasn’t Philip—it was Sylas.

What in the world does he want now? Rocco thought, utterly baffled.

"Uh, c-could you, um, let me go...?" Rocco stammered.

"Hah? So it’s fine when Philip does it, but not me?" Sylas’s sharp reply came instantly.

"N-no, no! Absolutely not! I like it a lot! I’m so happy, brother!" Rocco blurted out, his words frantic and insincere.

Logically speaking, who would hug someone they despised and held an intense grudge against?

Unless Sylas was some kind of extreme masochist—which he clearly wasn’t, given his distinctly sadistic tendencies—there was no way he was enjoying this as an act of affection.

That left one conclusion: this had to be some sort of harassment.

Sure, being in close proximity to Sylas was high-risk and thoroughly unpleasant for Rocco, so maybe that was exactly what Sylas intended.

As Rocco mulled over the situation, he kept a wary eye on Sylas’s reaction.

He had no intention of dying today, so he forced himself to say things he didn’t mean, like "I’m happy" and "I like it," to smooth things over.

"...I see. You like it. You’re happy," Sylas murmured at last.

What’s with this weird atmosphere? Rocco thought, puzzled.

He had fully expected Sylas to sneer and snap something like, Don’t say gross things, you brat.

But instead, Sylas’s response was strangely soft and almost... buoyant.

His tone carried an unmistakable hint of joy, as though Rocco’s words had genuinely pleased him.

"...Carrying you like this? Even I can do that. Just say the word whenever you want it," Sylas said quietly, his voice still oddly warm.

Still radiating that strange, contented aura, Sylas set Rocco back down on the ground and released him.

Well, I’m not sure what just happened, but at least I’m safe, Rocco thought, exhaling in relief.

Sylas’s unexpected words had taken him aback, but the more Rocco thought about them, the more certain he became: this had to be a trap.

This was definitely a setup.

If Rocco were to take Sylas’s words at face value and say something like, "Brother, please carry me!" he would undoubtedly be met with a mocking retort like, "As if I’d carry you, idiot."*

It would end in humiliation, without a doubt.

Phew, that was close, Rocco thought.

He almost let himself be swept away by the rare invitation for affection from Sylas—or more precisely, a family member with whom he shared blood with.

But he caught himself just in time.

Now he understood the game.

No matter what, Rocco told himself to never ask Sylas for a hug.

Yes, that was the safest path forward.

"I understand! If I ever feel lonely, I’ll definitely ask you for a hug, Brother!" Rocco declared brightly, his tone brimming with fake enthusiasm.

"...Hmm," Sylas replied with a noncommittal grunt.

Then, unexpectedly, Sylas reached out and gently patted Rocco’s head.

Rocco froze on the spot.

He hadn’t anticipated that Sylas would go so far as to offer an affectionate head pat—trap or not.

Even knowing that Sylas was destined to be the one who would eventually bring about his demise, Rocco couldn’t deny the warmth that was spreading through his chest.

The fact that his own brother had patted his head and carried him—even if temporarily—was enough to ignite a small, comforting glow within him.