Help, I'm in Another World and All the Men Are Are So Dangerous! [BL]-Chapter 207: Bound by Devotion

"Collar me. Brand me. Make me yours."

Because he had wished it, he had tried to be nothing more than "family."

But that was a lie.

Yes, it had made him happy to live freely as Rocco’s "family."

But more than that—more than anything—he had felt an unbearable emptiness.

This relationship was too fragile.

The word "family" was nothing more than a fleeting sentiment, spoken aloud but unbound by anything tangible.

There was no proof.

No chains.

No restraints.

He was free.

And that freedom suffocated him.

More than anything, he had prayed—pleaded—for something more.

More than being Rocco’s "family," he wanted to be his possession.

Not trapped in this unstable, uncertain bond, where freedom dangled in front of him like a cruel illusion.

He wanted to be shackles.

He wanted to be chained.

He wanted to be bound—completely and utterly—by Rocco’s will.

He had always wanted to become something—something that could be equated with family.

Something that would be bound to Rocco in the truest sense.

That was the wish he had carried for as long as he could remember.

"──...ah."

A sudden sensation, like a blinding light piercing through the darkness, made him open his eyes.

The first thing he noticed was the unnatural lightness of his right side.

However, before he could dwell on it, his attention was shifted.

He realized he was lying on soft sheets.

And more than that—

There was a small, fragile body clinging to him with all its might.

The warmth pressed against him was as gentle as sunlight filtering through the trees.

Without thinking, he tightened his arms in return and pulling Rocco closer to him.

His fingertips brushed against a familiar, soft sensation, and he couldn’t help but relax the corners of his eyes in amusement.

Lightly, he poked at the softness a few times, but Rocco showed no signs of waking up.

Perhaps it was because his body had warmed up while sleeping, but a faint heat lingered on his round cheeks.

Stroking that warmth with a tender touch, he let out a quiet smile.

Softly, he whispered—

"...Master."

As Rocco mumbled an unbearably adorable "Mmm...unyuu..." in his sleep, the devoted strokes of his protector’s hand continued.

It took quite some time before he even noticed that something was wrong with his own body.

The moment of realization came when he attempted to pull Rocco closer, wanting to warm him up as he shivered in his sleep—only to find that, for some reason, only one arm moved.

When he lowering his gaze, he then saw it.

The right arm that should have been there... was gone.

"...?"

He tilted his head slightly, a few moments of silence passing as he blinked his eyes, processing the missing limb.

However, after only a few seconds, he lost interest.

Without a second thought, he returned to caressing Rocco, as if nothing had changed.

As Rocco’s personal bodyguard, his duty was to shield his master from the countless threats that came with being in the mafia—a life where dangerous people, maniacs, and assassins constantly lurked.

Losing an arm or two in the process wasn’t anything shocking.

If anything, if this missing limb was a result of protecting Rocco, then it was an honor.

Besides...

It was an impure thought for a servant to have, but he couldn’t help but consider—perhaps this injury would earn him more of Rocco’s sympathy.

And if that sympathy granted him even greater affection—if it deepened Rocco’s reliance on him—then the loss of an arm was nothing more than a small price to pay.

"Master, Master... You are always kind to the pitiful person, aren’t you?"

Surely, if it were him in this state, Rocco would shower him with even more love than before.

Being pitied should have been humiliating, yet when it came from Rocco, it felt unbearably sweet.

Because for someone as kind as Rocco, pity was synonymous with responsibility.

When Rocco pitied someone, he took full responsibility for them—caring for them, loving them, and never letting them go.

This situation... could be used to his advantage.

The sheer convenience of it almost made him laugh.

His memories were a little hazy, and he couldn’t quite recall how things had ended up like this...

But in the end, that hardly mattered.

What mattered the most right now was that he had gained the ultimate reason to remain by his master’s side.

The moment that realization sank in, a rush of joy welled up within him.

He tugging the corners of his lips into a small smile.

Just then, the small body in his arms shifted adorably.

"Mmm... nyuu... mm...?"

His long lashes fluttered and trembling slightly, and then he slowly open his eyes and revealing a pair of shimmering amethyst eyes.

Still heavy with sleep, those dazed, unfocused eyes were impossibly endearing.

Ragar couldn’t help but smile as he softly called out, "Master."

At the sound of his voice, the unfocused gaze sharpened in an instant, growing wide with recognition.

"Ah—! R-Ragar! You’re awake?!"

With a sudden burst of energy, Rocco shot upright, and for just a fleeting moment, Ragar felt angry with himself.

Had he really just woken him up?

If he had stayed quiet, they could have shared this peaceful warmth for at least a little while longer.

The thought irked him, but as soon as he realized his own insolence, he quickly dismissed it.

Still, the sulking feeling stubbornly lingered.

Lost in his thoughts, he was suddenly pulled back to reality when a familiar warmth wrapped around him.

Looking down, he saw his master burying his face into his stomach.

His small shoulders trembling as muffled sobs escaped him.

"M-Master...? What on earth...?"

Could it be another nightmare?

If so, Ragar could solemnly swear, just as he had before, that he wouldn’t tell a soul if an accident had occurred.

However, after a quick glance, it seemed like there was no... evidence of that.

Frowning in confusion, Ragar could only watch as his master’s muffled voice reached his ears.