Help, I'm in Another World and All the Men Are Are So Dangerous! [BL]-Chapter 218: A Kiss, A Threat, and a Mafia Showdown

The air grew heavy with an unexplainable tension, and feeling unable to bear it any longer, Rocco quietly shuffled toward the door, weaving between the two.

"Uh... Well, I’ll just... head home now. Bye-bye..."

Head hanging low, he trudged forward—step by step, dragging his feet in defeat.

But just as he reached the door, a strong hand suddenly grabbed his wrist and yanked him back.

His body spun halfway around, causing his vision to blur for a second.

Then, right as he regained focus—smoosh.

The exact same soft sensation from earlier pressed against his lips.

He froze.

"You’re leaving already? Then, I’ll walk you home. That just now was a ’see-you-later’ kiss."

"Ah... eh?"

"I’ve basically already taken your virtue at this point, so I won’t hold back anymore. If you truly hate it, then come kill me—with enough resolve to take down all of Del Fiore."

"H-Huh...?"

"Running away isn’t an option. You can either accept me... or kill me. Those are the only two choices. If you really want to escape, then make sure you kill me properly, okay?"

...Mafia love affairs sure are intense, huh?

As Rocco processed those insane words, all he could do was stare at Laxus—who, despite the weight of his statement, was grinning like he didn’t have a care in the world.

Somehow, that made it all the more terrifying.

...

"And so, we’ll be entering a trial dating period!"

"Mmmgh..."

A few days after having his first kiss stolen—at a gathering where the key figures of the two major mafia families were present.

Once the difficult discussions about mafia affairs had concluded and the air had started shifting toward Alright, time to head home, Laxus suddenly dropped a bombshell.

Dragged to stand beside him, Rocco found himself under the weight of countless stares, maintaining the expression of a man whose soul had already left his body.

The Di Malvento side wore identical stunned expressions, while the Del Fiore side, though initially surprised, quickly shifted to a warm, congratulatory mood, smiling as if this was fantastic news.

The sheer contrast in reactions was enough to make someone catch a cold.

As Laxus beamed, clearly in high spirits while lifting Rocco into his arms, one of the Di Malvento men stomped forward.

His eyes are sharp enough to kill someone.

If this had been any other situation, gunfire would have already erupted by now.

However, with Rocco present, the man refrained from drawing his weapon and settling for a murderous glare instead.

"You... What have you done... What did you do to Rocco...?!"

"Huh? Sylas, don’t be so tense. This is the part where you’re supposed to offer your blessings, you know?"

"Don’t mess with me...! If this were a happy occasion, why does Rocco have that expression?!"

Sylas radiated an aura of pure rage, demanding an explanation.

It was the exact expression someone would make when forcing out a Nothing’s wrong, everything’s fine! lie—like eating a sour plum and pretending it’s delicious.

This was Rocco’s default face for situations that were awkward or unbearable, and his older brother Sylas knew that very well.

Because of that, Sylas immediately saw through the truth—this wasn’t some joyous declaration, but rather, yet another case of Laxus running wild.

Big brother... I love you so much...!

Just as the tension between Laxus and Sylas seemed on the verge of exploding into a physical brawl, a smooth, easygoing voice cut through the air.

"Now, now. Let’s all calm down. Laxus, care to explain what this is about?"

Despite his ever-present pleasant smile, there was an undeniable sharpness lurking beneath—Makarov, the unreadable powerhouse of the original story, who always kept his true thoughts concealed.

Damn, he looked as cool as ever.

So refined.

So gentlemanly.

Truly an inspiration.

"Well, just the other day, Rocco proposed to me, saying I needed to ’take responsibility.’"

"Oh my, things have already progressed that far? How wonderful. Congratulations."

Makarov smiled softly while radiating warmth smile.

When he turned to Rocco and said, "Isn’t that wonderful?", Rocco instinctively blurted out, "Ah... y-yeah..."

Because really, what was he supposed to say?

He couldn’t exactly tell Laxus’s father, "Well, actually, your son kind of threatened me a little..."

That would be way too awkward.

Besides, while Makarov was undeniably kind, he was still the head of one of the two most powerful mafia families.

At his core, he shared the same mentality as Laxus.

Even if Rocco were to protest, Makarov would probably just smile and say something like, "If you want something, you take it by any means necessary. That’s just common sense, isn’t it?"

"...Wait. Hold on. What did you just say?"

"Responsibility"?

What exactly are you talking about?

The warm, celebratory exchange between the Del Fiore father and son was abruptly interrupted as Sylas stepped in, his sharp gaze locked onto Laxus.

His low voice carried an unmistakable edge.

This was bad.

Sylas looked furious—like, legitimately about to shoot Laxus on sight levels of furious.

Rocco’s face turned paled as he glancing between them nervously.

Just as he started to panic, Laxus let out a quiet chuckle.

With a smirk, he casually placed a hand on Sylas’s shoulder and spoke in a tone laced with amusement.

"Oh, that? Well, you see... I took Rocco’s first kiss."

"Not just a light, innocent peck, mind you. A real, deep kiss—tongues and all."

"I’m sorry, but I already know what Rocco’s saliva tastes like."

...What the hell was Laxus even saying right now?

As if he hadn’t already said enough creepy things, Laxus leaned in slightly, lowering his voice as if emphasizing something crucial.

"I’m the only one who knows, you know? The taste of Rocco’s saliva."

What.

The.

Hell.

Why did he feel the need to repeat that?

Saying it once was already unsettling enough.

While Rocco stood there, absolutely horrified, Laxus flashed a smug grin—like he’d just delivered the coolest line ever.

"W-what... did you just say...?"

Sylas staggered back, his expression painted with pure devastation.

Clutching his forehead, he wobbled before collapsing backward.

"Young master!"