Help, I'm in Another World and All the Men Are Are So Dangerous! [BL]-Chapter 189: Shadows and Innocence

By the time Sylas realized it, the man was already right in front of him.

The other subordinates were slower to react, raising their guns at the intruder several seconds too late.

"...Stand down. Lower your weapons."

Sylas waved a hand dismissively, and the useless lot obeyed.

His cold eyes locked onto the unreadable ones before him.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, voice clipped.

The man—Georgio—beamed.

"Ragar’s right arm, of course! Incinerating it to cover things up? That’s so cold. If my cute master found out about it... he’d absolutely hate you, big brother."

"...There’s no need to burden Rocco with news of the beastman’s death."

"Hmm? But we don’t even know for sure if Ragar is dead yet, do we?"

Sylas scowled.

Georgio, as usual, was unfazed.

His eerie smirk remained intact, unbothered by the irritation radiating off Sylas.

Another sigh escaped him.

He should never have allowed this lunatic to roam free.

However Georgio was one of Rocco’s closest subordinates.

And that fact alone made eliminating him difficult.

Now that Georgio had seen this...

Sylas’s fingers twitched toward the knife hidden beneath his coat.

The moment he did, Georgio’s voice rang out—as if he had predicted it all along.

"The master may be an idiot, but when it comes to matters like this, his intuition is unnervingly sharp. When it involves ’family,’ he becomes startlingly perceptive. So, you really shouldn’t assume you can keep this hidden."

Sylas froze.

He had no immediate rebuttal to those words.

Rocco, normally naive and completely oblivious to the underworld’s workings, had moments when his instincts were terrifyingly on point.

When that happened, he would act recklessly, driven by raw emotion.

If this was one of those times...

"I won’t go out of my way to tell him," Georgio continued with a smirk, "but if my Master asks me directly? I’ll answer him honestly. Ah—unless, of course, you plan to kill me too? Wipe out all the witnesses, erase all the evidence—something like that?"

That smug expression made Sylas’s irritation spike.

If another of Rocco’s subordinates conveniently disappeared the same day as the beastman, there was no way to cover it up.

Georgio knew this, so he was taunting him on purpose.

Sylas slid the knife back into its sheath.

His gaze flicked to the newcomer still holding the box, hesitating, unsure what to do.

With a sigh, Sylas spoke.

"...Store it somewhere safe."

Then, without another word, he finally turned to leave.

Mahmoud followed at his side, but before they could get far, Georgio’s lazy voice drifted after them.

"If you’re not going to investigate, then I guess I’ll go looking for Ragar. That okay with you?"

"...Do whatever you want."

Sylas didn’t turn back.

He simply kept walking.

...

As Rocco swayed gently on the swing, exhausted from playing, a sudden wave of drowsiness overtook him.

"Mmm... guh..."

"Oh dear. My Rocco, are you sleepy? You played a lot today, didn’t you? It was fun, huh?"

"Mmm... not sleepy... gonna play more..."

Sensing that playtime at the park was coming to an end, Rocco forced his eyes open in a panic.

However, they were too heavy, and within seconds, they shut again.

How frustrating.

Opening and closing his eyes slowly, teetering between reality and dreams, he suddenly felt Laxus stand up from the swing.

Sensing the movement, Rocco’s eyes flew open, glistening with unshed tears.

"N-No... I wanna swing more... I don’t wanna go home..."

"Ahh, don’t cry! I’m sorry, Rocco, but I think you’re really at your limit... Wouldn’t it be better to sleep in a nice, fluffy bed?"

"Nooo... wanna keep swinging..."

"You wanna keep swinging, huh? Alright, alright, I’ll tell Sylas to build a park in the garden. When you wake up, there’ll be a giant slide and a swing with a backrest waiting for you."

What?! A park in the garden by the time I wake up?!

Mmm... if that’s the case, I guess that’s fine.

I seriously thought I’d never be able to swing again.

As long as I can still play on the swing in the future, then everything’s okay.

Satisfied, Rocco relaxed completely, no longer fighting the sleep that weighed him down.

Wrapped in Laxus’s warm embrace, he drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

Perhaps it was because his dream of playing at a park had finally come true.

He found himself dreaming—of watching children his age playing at a park through the window of a hospital room.

Clutching the stuffed animal a nurse had given him—"to play with whenever you want"—he had spent countless days staring longingly outside.

Watching kids his age laugh and play.

He had always been a shy boy.

Even as one of the hospital’s long-term patients, he never made any friends among the other children staying there.

Instead, he played alone—talking to his stuffed animal, giving it a name, treating it like a companion.

Some found it unsettling that a boy over ten years old still talked to a stuffed toy.

But in his world, it made perfect sense.

His exposure to the outside world had been rare.

Opportunities to learn about society were scarce.

It was no wonder people called him ignorant—his mind had never had the chance to grow in that way.

He knew nothing beyond himself.

His only real connections were with his family and a few kind nurses.

That was the extent of his relationships with other people.

The stuffed animals and dolls never spoke.

They never judged him.

For someone who didn’t understand people, they were his perfect friends.

They never called him childish.

They never criticized him for being a disappointment to his parents.

Unlike people, they never hurt him.

In the end, he loved them.

And in contrast, he feared people.

Strangers were cruel.

They hurled thoughtless words.

They lashed out with baseless accusations.

He realized it early on.

To him, strangers were nothing more than irresponsible, cruel beings.

And perhaps because of that, his attachment and love for family had always been stronger than most.