Help, I'm in Another World and All the Men Are Are So Dangerous! [BL]
Chapter 63: A Fluffy Gift

Chapter 63: A Fluffy Gift

After finalizing their agreement to exchange their favorite, Marcus and Rocco finally regained their composure and sat down hastily on the sofa.

Rocco averted his gaze, determined not to look at his father, who was nonchalantly wiping away his nosebleed as if nothing had happened.

Unfortunately, when Rocco glanced elsewhere, his eyes accidentally locked with the cunning man in glasses who had been sitting quietly nearby.

The man, with his sharp, mischievous look, smiled brightly as if to say, "Oh, I’ve noticed you!"—a smile that left no room for Rocco to retreat gracefully.

Attempting to avert his gaze might make him seem rude, so Rocco forced a sheepish, awkward smile in response.

But then, much to Rocco’s bewilderment, the man suddenly clutched his chest and began squirming, looking as though he was in some kind of agony.

What’s happening?

Is he okay?

Rocco thought anxiously, torn between concern and confusion.

"...Rocco."

"Y-Yes, sir!"

While Rocco was distracted by the peculiar behavior of the man in glasses, Marcus abruptly called out to him.

Startled, Rocco quickly snapped to attention.

It seemed Marcus had finished tending to his nosebleed.

Any trace of the pale, flustered man from earlier had vanished.

Now, Marcus sat with his legs elegantly crossed, his expression cool and composed, embodying the cold authority expected of the Di Malvento family head.

"Apologies for summoning you while you’re still recovering," Marcus said in his low, commanding tone. "I’ve heard how you saved Sylas not once, but twice from danger... I wanted to personally thank you."

"Wh-What? Oh, no! I didn’t do anything..." Rocco stammered, completely caught off guard.

His father—apologizing? To him?

Rocco had been bracing himself for the worst: a meticulously detailed recounting of his failures, followed by a formal declaration of his expulsion from the Di Malvento family.

In his most pessimistic imaginings, he even envisioned being executed alongside his disgraced mother in a dramatic "justice is served" scenario.

Yet, here was Marcus, his typically stern face softened ever so slightly.

The usual menacing aura of a ruthless mafia boss seemed to have faded completely.

There was no trace of hostility, no sign that Rocco’s life was about to take a dramatic turn for the worse.

Could his father truly mean it?

Could this be a genuine, heartfelt gesture of gratitude?

The thought felt almost too good to be true.

"I don’t know much about what children like," Marcus continued, his expression cool and unreadable once more. "If you don’t care for it, feel free to toss it, burn it—do whatever you like with it."

Marcus turned his face slightly away, muttering quietly.

What in the world? Rocco thought.

It seemed his father had truly prepared a gift for him.

Does this mean he won’t be killed just yet?

Feeling a slight sense of relief, Rocco watched the cunning man in glasses rummage through something with a rustling noise.

Given how strict and no-nonsense his father was, Rocco assumed it would be something practical—stationery, or perhaps study materials.

He’s not too keen on studying, but if it’s paper or pens, he could always use them for drawing, Rocco mused absentmindedly.

Maybe he’ll draw Ragar and Georgio first.

As he let his thoughts wander, the man in glasses approached, carrying something in his arms.

Huh? What’s that? It looks... fluffy? Rocco squinted. And is it... moving?

"Here you are, Young Master Rocco. A gift from the family head," the man said, smiling as he presented the item.

"Ah, uh, thank you... wait, what!?"

What Rocco had received was a bundle of fluff—soft, warm, and squirming slightly in his arms.

Startled, he held it cautiously, peering curiously into the fluffy mass.

The moment he spotted a pair of round, red eyes peeking back at him, Rocco nearly jumped out of his seat.

"A-a dog?! A fluffy dog!"

Cradling the squirming fluff protectively, Rocco’s initial shock turned to delight.

He had been handling it like an object, but now that he realized it was a living creature, he instinctively held it more gently to ensure it wouldn’t fall.

Wait a second—what did he mean by ’do whatever he want with it, even burn it?’ Rocco thought, his mind racing.

It’s a dog!

You can’t just burn a dog!

This isn’t something you can just toss or burn, Dad!

Of course, he didn’t dare voice such thoughts aloud.

Instead, he lowered his head, letting his irritation fade as he stroked the dog gently.

"Poor thing," he murmured under his breath, petting the dog soothingly. "You must’ve been so scared surrounded by these awful men."

Just then, Marcus spoke, his tone as calm and detached as ever, as if he were commenting on the weather.

"I found it at the site of a conflict a few days ago. At first, I considered killing it because it was a nuisance, but Strasbourg suggested I give it to you instead."

"...Master, perhaps you could refrain from sharing such unnecessary details," the man in glasses interjected dryly. "Young Master Rocco seems rather horrified."

"...What? Why?" Marcus looked genuinely puzzled. "You’re the one who told me to improve my communication and provide more details. Why is Rocco upset?"

Rocco stared at his father in disbelief, his expression deadpan.

You seriously considered killing this dog?

His mind reeled at the thought.

As Rocco’s unimpressed gaze lingered, Marcus finally seemed to notice his son’s reaction.

Looking flustered, he turned back to the man in glasses, clearly seeking clarification or advice.

They began discussing something in hushed tones, leaving Rocco to cradle the fluffy little dog, who seemed blissfully unaware of the chaos unfolding around it.

Their whispered conversation was too quiet to make out.

Left with no choice, Rocco turned his attention away from the two of them and looked down at the fluffy dog cradled in his arms.

"It must’ve been scary, huh? You’re safe now. There, there," he murmured while stroking the dog gently.

Its fur was as soft and white as cotton candy, and its round, red eyes gleamed as if brimming with curiosity.

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