Help, I'm in Another World and All the Men Are Are So Dangerous! [BL]-Chapter 245: Shattered Composure

He hadn’t realized just how much progress had been made regarding the rebellion, the Crown Prince, or the political power struggle surrounding them.

And why would he?

His father and Sylas heavily restricted his access to newspapers.

He rarely ever left the estate.

For someone like him, whose entire world was contained within the walls of the Di Malvento mansion, information was the rarest and most unreachable commodity of all.

He knew it was a problem.

But he had never imagined it was this bad.

"...Feh."

A tiny, breathy sound escaped him as he exhaled the breath he’d been holding.

Taking another deep breath, he steeled himself.

—No.

This is a rare chance.

If I can hear them, I should listen.

Determined, Rocco strained his ears, focusing back on the conversation inside.

"Master, I believe it’s time to seriously consider the matter... regarding your sons’ future alliances."

Sons...? Alliances?

Rocco blinked his eyes in confusion.

The words felt strangely heavy, laced with an ominous undercurrent.

The air inside the study seemed to turn frigid.

For a second, Rocco thought he could feel the temperature drop.

But the speaker, oblivious or simply indifferent to the chilling silence, continued.

"The most pressing issue is the rebel uprisings. To suppress them, the royal family must strengthen its influence."

"To accomplish that, the cooperation of the two Great Families is very crucial."

"Indeed, I agree. If the royal family and the two families form stronger ties, the rebels will stand no chance. Now is the time for unity—"

CRACK.

A sharp, violent snap cut through the conversation.

As the officials spoke, a sharp, splintering sound cut through the air, as if forcibly silencing them.

A heavy silence followed.

Then, in a voice utterly devoid of his usual gentleness—calm yet laced with quiet fury—Rocco’s father spoke.

"Say another word of that repulsive nonsense, and I’ll kill you."

The tension was suffocating.

Curiosity gnawed at Rocco, and despite his better judgment, he carefully peeked through the slightly open door.

The sight before him made his eyes widen in shock.

His father who is seated at the head of the room, had blood dripping from his right hand with sharp fragments embedded in his skin.

Rocco’s gaze darted to the shattered remains of an object on the desk.

It didn’t take long to realize what had happened.

His father had crushed a pen in his grip—with enough force to shatter it.

Normally, Rocco would have bolted from a scene this terrifying at the speed of light.

But this time...

He couldn’t.

Because for the first time—

He was seeing his family’s blood spilled right before his eyes.

"—Father!"

Before he even realized it, he was running.

Any thought of staying hidden was completely forgotten as he dashed into the room, his small feet tapping urgently against the floor.

Gasps rippled through the adults as they turned to him, but Rocco paid them no mind. freewёbn૦νeɭ.com

With tear-filled eyes, he threw himself at his father, clinging to him tightly.

Frantically, he pulled out the soft handkerchief he always carried and wrapped it around his father’s injured hand.

His head snapped up toward Strasbourg, who stood just behind his father, and he cried out in a panic.

"F-Father’s in danger! He’s hurt—he’s really hurt!"

Strasbourg, who had been staring in stunned silence, jolted at Rocco’s words.

Then, without hesitation, he dropped to one knee beside his master and swiftly got to work.

Rocco watched in awe, his panic momentarily replaced by admiration at Strasbourg’s efficiency.

"Hwaaah... so fast...!"

Strasbourg worked at lightning speed, tending to the wound with practiced precision.

And once the treatment was complete, and Strasbourg had returned to his position—

Rocco immediately latched onto his father again.

"Thank goodness...! The bleeding stopped. It doesn’t hurt anymore. I’m so glad...!"

No one wanted to see their loved ones covered in blood.

Even if the injury had been treated, the sight of the bandages and gauze still made his chest ache.

Still, it was over now.

Everything was fine.

Relieved, he let out a soft giggle, his expression brightening.

Instinctively, he started to climb into his father’s lap—something he had done countless times before.

Burying his face into the firm chest, he hugged his father tightly.

And that was when he noticed—

The absolute silence in the room.

"...Huh?"

It was too quiet.

Something felt... off.

Slowly, Rocco tilted his head up—

And froze.

His father was looking down at him with bloodshot eyes, his expression eerily blank.

It was impossible to read.

And that made it all the more terrifying.

"Wh-what is this face—?!"

Was he angry?

Was he really angry??

Was it because Rocco had interrupted an important meeting?

Or—was it because he had been caught eavesdropping?!

Whatever the reason, one thing was certain—

His father was definitely not happy right now.

At this moment, Rocco knew he had to apologize as much as possible and beg for forgiveness—no matter how pathetic it made him seem as a Di Malvento.

Just as he bowed his head in submission, a firm hand suddenly grasped his cheek, squishing it between strong fingers and forcing him to look up.

"Mnyu? Nyu, mnyuuu—"

Surprised, Rocco flailed his arms in protest.

He squirmed and struggled, using all his might—but to his horror, his father’s single hand didn’t budge.

Not. Even. A. Little.

Despite rarely seeing his father engage in anything particularly "mafia-like" compared to Sylas, this raw display of strength made it painfully clear.

His father wasn’t the head of the Di Malvento family just for show.

Realizing resistance was futile, Rocco let out a small defeated sigh and went limp.

Only then did his father release his cheek and finally speak.

"...Why are you here?"

The unexpected question made Rocco straighten his back in alarm.

He had to be careful.

One wrong move, and he might make his father even more irritable.

Trying not to tremble too much, he carefully chose his words.

Or, well...

Rocco wasn’t exactly the smartest, so his "careful choice of words" amounted to nothing but pure honesty.