Help, I'm in Another World and All the Men Are Are So Dangerous! [BL]
Chapter 87: Final Night (Maybe?)

Chapter 87: Final Night (Maybe?)

There was no way Rocco could escape on his own.

Wait a second!

On second thought, wasn’t this just a trap?

The realization hit like a truck, making him want to cry.

Think about it—what kind of brother would want to have a pajama party with a sibling they supposedly hate?

This was a setup.

A big, fat trap.

It had to be.

Rocco didn’t know the specifics, but he was sure of one thing: Sylas was planning something.

He could picture it already—Sylas would wait for him to fall asleep, blissfully unaware, and then... execute some kind of sinister plan.

"Big brother... Please, be gentle," Rocco whimpered softly, his voice trembling.

In his mind, he added, Please, if you’re going to kill me, at least make it quick...

Sniffling and letting out a quiet sob, he whispered the words with a heavy heart.

Sylas tilted his head at first, seemingly puzzled by Rocco’s plea.

However, then his face contorted, and anger burned brightly in his eyes.

What?! Why was he angry now?!

Had he said something wrong?

Rocco’s mind scrambled to figure out what could have triggered this reaction.

Sylas clenched his fist tightly, his knuckles whitening from the pressure.

When he finally spoke, his voice was a low growl.

"Do not ever lump me in with the kind of scum who would force themselves on an innocent child..."

"Eeeeeek! I-I’m so sorry! Really sorry! P-Please forgive me!" Rocco wailed, flailing his arms.

He had no idea what Sylas was talking about or why he was so furious, but he knew one thing—he needed to calm that terrifying black aura radiating from his brother.

Bowing his head over and over, he apologized desperately, hoping to diffuse the situation.

Sylas looked down at Rocco, who was trembling slightly, his expression unreadable.

After a moment, the dark aura surrounding him dissipated, and he let out a long, drawn-out sigh.

Then, he pulled Rocco into a strong embrace.

"Haah... You fool, Rocco. Do you even understand why I suggested sharing a bed?"

To kill me, obviously.

That’s the only explanation, right?

Right?! Rocco thought to himself, pouting and puffing out his cheeks indignantly.

"...It’s to protect you, of course."

"Huh? Big brother, what did you just say?"

Sylas seemed to mutter something under his breath, but his voice was so quiet that Rocco couldn’t quite catch it.

Normally, he would have been able to hear even a whisper at this distance, but he had been too distracted, too lost in his thoughts.

Oops. Sorry about that, Sylas, Rocco thought, feeling a twinge of guilt.

But Sylas brushed it off. "It’s nothing," he said curtly.

"Oh, okay," Rocco replied, nodding.

He was about to drift back into his usual daze when a thought suddenly struck him.

With a sharp gasp, he looked up.

"Big brother! Mr. Bunny—Mr. Bunny has to sleep with us too! Mr. Bunny wants to join us!"

"...Hm? Oh. Do whatever you want," Sylas replied, his tone indifferent.

Rocco lifted his Mr. Bummy high into the air, almost ceremoniously, before pulling it close with a little huff of satisfaction.

Hugging Mr. Bunny tightly, he let out a happy, contented sigh, utterly pleased with himself.

The first night of living in the main house had finally arrived, much to Rocco’s quiet dread.

"Hooray, hooray! A pajama party with Mr. Bunny! La la la!" he had been humming cheerfully.

Then, he remembered—oh, right. There was a chance he might be killed tonight.

The moment that grim thought resurfaced, all his excitement fizzled out like a deflating balloon.

By the time he reached Sylas’s room, a gloomy aura had completely enveloped him.

"Mr. Bunny... I’m sorry. You might end up seeing my lifeless body tonight..."

Rocco glanced down at Mr. Bunny in his arms, his expression heavy with regret.

He hated the idea of his beloved Mr. Bunny witnessing a bloody scene—or worse, his corpse.

But it was too late to turn back now.

Mr. Bunny was already here.

"It’s okay... Mr. Bunny is tough, just like me," Rocco muttered, trying to reassure himself. "I’m sure you’ll be able to handle the murder scene. Be strong for me, okay?"

Sighing deeply, Rocco slouched his shoulders and raised his hand to knock on the door.

Resigned to his fate, he tapped lightly—knock, knock.

Seconds later, a low voice replied from within: "...Come in."

Hearing Sylas’s cold tone, Rocco felt a wave of acceptance wash over him.

He’d lasted longer than most throwaway villains in the beginning of a story, hadn’t he?

That was something to be grateful for.

"Thanks for everything in this life," Rocco thought solemnly. "In my next life, I hope to be born as a normal, healthy person living peacefully in some quiet corner of Earth."

"Excuse me...!" he stammered aloud, his voice trembling.

As he slowly opened the door, Rocco couldn’t help but let his imagination wander.

"Maybe next time I could be handsome, a little rich, and popular too..." He clutched Mr. Bunny tightly as he stepped into Sylas’s room, nerves fraying with every step.

To his surprise, the room was far less luxurious than he’d expected.

In fact, it was shockingly plain and devoid of personal touches.

It felt cold, sterile, and oddly empty.

The walls of Sylas’s room had more items than the floor.

While the floor was almost bare, the walls were covered with pistols, rifles, and other dangerous-looking weapons.

"Wait a second... isn’t this way too scary?" Rocco thought, swallowing hard.

The room looked like something straight out of an assassin’s lair.

Trembling and shrinking into himself, Rocco hesitantly made his way toward Sylas, who was sitting gracefully on a sofa, engrossed in a book.

"Big brother, Rocco has arrived!"

With his pompom-topped nightcap bouncing as he moved, Rocco hopped slightly as he announced himself.

Sylas glanced at him briefly before closing his book with a soft thud and placing it neatly on the round table beside him.

"...Did you come alone?"

"Yes, brother! Just as promised, I came all by myself! Tonight, it’s just the two of us sleeping together!"

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