Help, I'm in Another World and All the Men Are Are So Dangerous! [BL]
Chapter 61: Rocco’s Brave Blunder

Chapter 61: Rocco’s Brave Blunder

It seemed his approach was the right one, as Young Master Rocco let out a relieved sigh, no longer showing any signs of wariness.

Without hesitation, he walked into the room.

...The complete lack of caution made Stroudsburg feel uneasy.

He was so defenseless, it was worrying.

However, Stroudsburg quickly realized that it was precisely this unguarded innocence that captivated others.

As Young Master Rocco approached Marcus and awkwardly bowed to greet him, Stroudsburg understood everything in that moment.

"—I-I’m sorry! I’m Rocco!"

The greeting was so clumsy it almost felt like a school play.

With an overly deep bow, Young Master Rocco lost his balance and tumbled forward, his small body rolling over in a somersault.

He fell with a soft thud, looking up with wide, confused eyes, clearly unsure of what had just happened.

Seeing this, Marcus groaned loudly, and blood spurted from his nose.

Ah... everything was such a mess.

In what should have been a moment of exasperation, Stroudsburg, surprisingly, found himself unable to hold back a soft, affectionate smile.

...

Rocco was on his way to the main residence—the so-called "enemy territory"—after receiving that letter.

Today marked the long-anticipated day of his meeting with his father.

Coolly striding through the estate, Rocco followed the guidance of the conniving servant with glasses and entered the room with equal composure.

Everything was going perfectly—until he came face-to-face with his father.

The sheer presence and aura of his father were overwhelming.

So much so that Rocco froze solid, his nerves locking him into a state of utter rigidity.

Like a robot, he stiffly marched toward his father, intending to deliver a composed greeting.

But instead, he overbalanced and tumbled forward.

The result wasn’t so much a simple fall as a comical roll—like a dumpling rolling down a hill.

No, no!

This wasn’t the time to be fussing over sound effects!

The real issue was how to salvage this embarrassing situation.

Here he was, curled up on the ground like a pill bug.

The only question was how to recover from this and regain some semblance of dignity.

Suddenly, the awkward silence was shattered by two frantic voices.

"Young Master Rocco, are you alright? What was that!? Were you serious!? Was that for real!?"

"Master! Oh, Master! Are you hurt!?"

Rocco turned beet red, his face heating up like a pressure cooker.

He wanted to yell at them to stop making such a fuss—it was mortifying!

However, his two attendants, Ragar and Georgio, paid no heed to his obvious embarrassment.

Instead, they rushed over, their concern evident.

Ragar gently scooped up Rocco, still curled up on the floor, while Georgio darted around like a whirlwind, meticulously inspecting Rocco for injuries.

"Guys, it’s just a small fall," Rocco muttered under his breath. "I didn’t even get a scratch. You’re worrying too much."

Georgio, however, didn’t seem convinced.

"Thank goodness... no injuries," he sighed in relief. Then, with a menacing gleam in his eye, he added, "If you had so much as a scratch on your body, I’d have ripped up every floorboard in this entire room."

Rocco shivered at the ominous remark and instinctively clung to Ragar, burying his face in the older man’s chest.

"Ragar, Ragar, I’m scared. Georgio is scary, and this place is scary, too..."

"Young Master," Ragar said solemnly, holding him tightly. "You are far too precious. Fear not—I am here. Whatever trials may come, I will protect you without fail."

Georgio’s ominous words seemed to trigger Rocco’s latent unease.

His eyes darted nervously around the room as suppressed fears bubbled to the surface.

Overwhelmed, he let out a small, trembling whimper.

But Ragar, ever reliable, embraced him firmly and reassured him with calm strength.

Ragar’s steady presence was a source of comfort for Rocco, a beacon of safety amidst the chaos.

"Scared..." Marcus murmured from across the room, his expression a mixture of disbelief and guilt. "You’re scared... of here...? Why...?"

Georgio, who had been hovering protectively, shot Marcus a withering look. "Master Di Malvento, please stop standing there pale as a ghost with blood dripping from your nose. It’s unsettling. Besides, why would you assume Young Master Rocco wouldn’t find this place terrifying? Of course, it’s scary—anyone with common sense would think so."

The remark hit Marcus like a slap, his face contorting in both exasperation and shame.

Meanwhile, Rocco remained nestled in Ragar’s embrace, blissfully unaware of the verbal sparring unfolding around him.

After calming his nerves with a hug from Ragar, Rocco turned around and found his father slumped in despair.

The stern, commanding presence his father had exuded earlier was now nowhere to be seen.

It seemed his father had been chastised by the conniving servant with glasses, who wore an expression of exasperation.

Whatever had been said only deepened his father’s despondency.

Although Rocco wasn’t sure what was happening, he realized that if his father didn’t recover, no meaningful conversation could take place.

Determined to help, Rocco decided to step up and handle the situation coolly.

He walked over to his father with purpose.

"Father, Father," Rocco called gently.

His father was hunched over like the bronze statue "The Thinker", his figure radiating defeat.

Rocco lightly tapped his father’s knee to get his attention.

Slowly, the man lifted his gaze, revealing a strikingly cold yet handsome face, reminiscent of Sylas.

His father’s eyes, like gleaming amethyst jewels, pierced through Rocco.

The intensity made his own eyes water, but he straightened his back and spoke bravely.

"F-Father..Are you hurt anywhere? If you’re in pain, I can make it all go away! Pain, pain, fly away!"

Seeing his father’s despairing expression—so similar to Sylas’s—made Rocco’s chest ache.

Acting on instinct, he reached out and gently patted his father’s head, hoping to offer comfort.

After a moment, he withdrew his hand and clenched it to his chest as though trapping all the pain inside.

Then, with a determined shake, he opened his hand wide, symbolically flinging the pain away.

How cool was that? Rocco thought proudly.

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