Help, I'm in Another World and All the Men Are Are So Dangerous! [BL]
Chapter 82: Chaotic Comforts

Chapter 82: Chaotic Comforts

It’s official—I’m definitely hated, Rocco thought, his heart sinking.

His father’s ears, now tinged red, only solidified his assumption.

He must be furious.

He better tread carefully.

"...Um, about this... conversation..." Rocco began tentatively, nervously fiddling with Mr. Bunny’s ears to mask his unease.

Rocco’s father looked down at him, his gaze steady and unreadable.

After a brief pause, he spoke in a low voice, his expression impassive.

"...Was Mr. Bunny really okay?"

"Huh?"

"...it seems you like fluffy things, so how about it? Do you like it?"

Rocco had expected something serious when his father said he wanted to talk.

But to his surprise, the subject was about the plush rabbit.

Taken aback by the unexpected question, Rocco blinked his eyes a few times before nodding his head enthusiastically.

"I like anything, as long as it’s fluffy," he said, stroking the plush rabbit affectionately.

His father watched the gesture closely before giving a small nod. "...I see."

Even though his father’s face remained blank, Rocco couldn’t tell what the man was thinking.

The silence stretched on, adding to the uncertainty.

Just as the quiet became unbearable, the bespectacled man behind his father gave an exaggerated cough.

The man’s gaze was pointed, as though silently chastising Rocco’s father.

It seemed the older man noticed, too, because a faint awkwardness flickered across his otherwise composed demeanor.

The peculiar tension between the two was short-lived.

Soon, Rocco’s father shifted uneasily on the sofa, his ears slightly red as he mumbled a new question in a low voice.

"...Then, what other plushies would you want? A turtle? Or maybe an elephant?"

Rocco blinked, completely dumbfounded by the question.

A turtle? An elephant? First rabbit, and now this?

He still didn’t understand why his father was so eager to give him plush toys, but the gesture itself was undeniably kind.

Still, the idea of an elephant plushie was so absurd that Rocco couldn’t help but imagine the scene: him walking through a mafia-controlled district while proudly hugging a giant, fluffy elephant.

The thought was both surreal and chaotic.

"Umm... I’m okay without a turtle or an elephant. I think Mr. Bunny is enough," Rocco said while shaking his head with a sheepish smile.

"...I see," his father replied softly.

His shoulders visibly slumped, and he looked distinctly deflated.

Seeing this, Rocco suddenly had a realization.

Why was someone who supposedly disliked him so intent on giving him gifts?

Then it struck him: his father must enjoy the act of giving presents!

That had to be it.

As Rocco thought about it, the strange behavior of his father began to make sense.

There are people like that, aren’t there?

The kind of person who loves playing crane games, not because they want the prizes, but because they enjoy the game itself.

His father must be one of those types.

Ah, that explained everything.

In that case, pretending to be modest and declining the offer would backfire.

This was the time to play along and suggest a fish he liked, even if he had to make it up.

Gaining some goodwill points might just help him avoid the looming death-end he was convinced awaited him.

"Umm... then how about a Chicken?"

"...A chicken?"

"Yeah. Chicken is cute. Oh, and a Koala, too."

"A... Koala?"

From somewhere nearby came a murmured comment, dripping with sarcasm: "What an adorably peculiar taste."

That tone and voice—ah, it had to be him.

That smirking, bespectacled man!

What was so strange about his choice?

Chicken and Koala were super cute!

Well, okay, to be fair, Rocco hadn’t seen many animals in his life.

His choices were mostly inspired by videos and photos of the animals in the zoo from his previous life.

Oh, and for the record, the chicken wasn’t influenced by the zoo; he just liked them.

The chicken was undeniably adorable.

"Hmm... now that you mention it, Rocco does resemble a chicken," his father mused.

"Indeed," the bespectacled man chimed in. "The way chicken sometimes struggles with sudden changes in direction is quite like Yiung Master Rocco. It does make them endearing. Adorable, even."

"...And koala, too," his father added. "Its sleepy and adorable appearance does bear a certain resemblance to Rocco. Quite charming."

Rocco hugged his plush rabbit tightly as the two of them continued their murmured exchange.

Was it his imagination, or did Mr. Bunny look a bit miffed?

Could Mr. Bunny possibly be jealous?

"It’s okay, Mr. Bunny," Rocco whispered. "I love you the most. Even if Mr. Coco and Mr. Mochi join us later, you’ll always be my first dearest friend."

"Very well," his father declared suddenly. "Philip, arrange for plush toys of a Chicken and a Koala immediately."

"As you wish," the bespectacled man replied. "Shall I commission a renowned artisan from the capital’s famous workshop? Any specific instructions for the craftsman?"

"Say, ’If it’s not fluffy, I’ll kill them.’"

"As you wish."

Wait a second... aren’t these supposed to be scary mafia guys?

The men’s intense, murderous aura and serious expressions looked as if they were discussing which rival family to destroy next.

But in reality, they were holding a plush toy meeting.

A fluffy toy discussion.

Rocco stared at the two of them with a deadpan expression as they passionately debated all things fluffy while hugging Mr. Bunny tightly to endure the increasingly tedious atmosphere.

When their discussion finally ended, the two men exchanged satisfied nods, looking as though they’d just finished a major negotiation.

It seemed their "work" was progressing smoothly.

"My apologies for the lengthy discussion. We’ll take our leave to make arrangements for the plush toys," his father said.

"Ah, uh, yes..."

Apparently, the intense debate had left his father feeling genuinely accomplished.

He briskly headed toward the door with the bespectacled man in tow, casually apologizing for the "long discussion."

Rocco wasn’t sure how to react to that.

It wasn’t like he had been held hostage during the conversation.

Scrambling to his feet, Rocco moved to see them off.