Help, I'm in Another World and All the Men Are Are So Dangerous! [BL]-Chapter 211: I Want It

Then, he hurried back to the room, where Ragar was waiting anxiously.

Rocco quickly running over while proudly held up the collar.

"Ragar, we got the collar! Want to try it on right now? Or do you need a little more time to prepare yourself?"

"My resolve was made long ago! I would be honored if you put it on me right away."

There was an eager glint in Ragar’s otherwise calm eyes.

Was he really looking forward to this so much?

Recalling the theory that Ragar might be a big masochist, Rocco let out a small sigh and motioned for him to kneel down.

Ragar obediently crouched down and allowing Rocco to adjust the collar’s length while studying his neck carefully.

It should be a little loose, right?

If it was too tight it would make Ragar uncomfortable.

After some quick adjustments, he gently slipped the collar around Ragar’s neck and carefully deciding how snug it should be.

Just as he was about to secure it, Ragar suddenly murmured.

"Master... Please tighten it more."

"Huh? But if I tighten it too much, it might be hard for you to breathe."

"That’s fine. Tighter, please."

"Uhh... I mean... If you say so..."

At first, Rocco thought maybe Ragar was just being polite and holding back.

But when he looked into his eyes, there was a clear sense of dissatisfaction, as if he needed it to be tighter.

Hesitantly, Rocco complied, pulling the collar snugly around Ragar’s neck.

This has to be uncomfortable, right...?

He cautiously glanced at Ragar’s reaction—and froze in shock.

G-Ragar... Why does he look so blissful right now?!

"Ahh... It feels like Master’s hands are constantly around my throat..."

"Wait, uh, isn’t that kinda bad? Should I loosen it?"

"No, no... This is perfect... The pleasure of having Master control my breathing is simply... exquisite..."

"O-oh. Well... I’m glad you like it?"

Something about Ragar’s expression seemed off, but Rocco decided to push forward anyway.

At this rate, the branding process would probably go just as smoothly.

With that thought, he turned on his heel and trotted over to the fireplace, where the branding iron had been heating up.

The branding iron had been heating in the fireplace.

It bore the elegant crest of the Di Malvento family.

Rocco had requested the smallest possible iron to minimize the pain and keep the brand as inconspicuous as possible, but even so... it still looked huge.

And more than anything... just looking at it, there was no doubt it would hurt.

The thought alone made him want to squeeze his eyes shut.

The fear of it was overwhelming, even as a bystander.

His hands trembled uncontrollably, and anxiety gripped his chest.

Pressing this searing-hot metal against Ragar’s skin?

Just imagining it sent violent shivers down his spine.

"Uhh, eeehh—n-nope. Nope, I don’t think I can do this. It looks way hotter than I expected. This is terrifying, this is terrifying...!"

He had, perhaps naively, imagined something more casual—like stamping a seal onto paper.

But now, he realized how foolishly he had underestimated the brutality of human cruelty.

So this is how far people could fall when they abandoned their humanity...

Even without overthinking it, branding someone by pressing burning-hot metal into their skin was objectively horrific.

It seemed like his brain had been shielding him from this harsh reality with a false sense of ease.

And now that he was faced with the truth, even touching the iron’s handle felt like an act of sheer willpower.

His hand trembled violently as he reached for it—so much so that it was practically spasming.

Sensing his internal struggle, Georgio suddenly slithered in from the side, cheerfully offering encouragement.

"You got this, Master! It’s not that hot, it won’t hurt, don’t worry! Go, go, fight~!"

"W-well, I won’t get burned, sure, but... Ragar might end up going all in pain, right...?"

"Nah, he’ll be fine. Ragar’s pretty dull, isn’t he? He’s probably got a high pain tolerance too. I mean, I dunno, just guessing."

"Hey, don’t just suddenly turn cold like that! That freaks me out!"

Rocco flinched at the abrupt shift.

Georgio had this thing where he’d get super excited one moment and then immediately go ice-cold the next.

It happened so fast that keeping up with him was impossible.

Still, somehow, Georgio’s indifferent remark managed to snap Rocco out of his panic.

His hands had been shaking so much before, but now, they were suddenly steady.

Was this part of Georgio’s plan all along?

The timing was so perfect it almost felt orchestrated.

Regardless, the trembling had stopped.

Taking advantage of that, Rocco swiftly grabbed the branding iron and carefully turned around.

He had to be extra careful not to let the scorching tip touch anything—or anyone—by mistake.

"Ragar, Ragar. Sorry for the wait. This, uh... It’s probably definitely still really hot, so... Should I cool it down a little first?"

"If you cool it, the brand won’t take properly, will it?"

"Ugh! W-well, yeah, probably, but... It’s fresh out of the fire, still steaming hot... So I feel like letting it cool a little would be a good idea."

"If that is Master’s wish, then let’s do that."

Ragar plopped down into a proper kneeling position on the floor.

Rocco let out a small sigh before plopping down next to him.

He had to keep holding the branding iron upright to prevent it from touching the floor or anything else.

Which, as it turned out, was way harder than expected.

The iron was heavier than he thought.

His arm muscles burned as he struggled to keep it raised.

It was like doing an intense ab workout.

P-p-pfft... This is bad.

My stomach’s starting to tremble too...!

"...Master. It’s time to apply the brand. I want it."

"Huh?! O-oh, okay! Leave it to me!"

Ragar looked down at Rocco, who was trembling with a straight face, his stomach visibly quivering.

After a few seconds of hesitation, he made his request.

Had enough time even passed for the iron to cool slightly?

Or was Rocco’s sense of time completely messed up?