Help, I'm in Another World and All the Men Are Are So Dangerous! [BL]-Chapter 103: I love you, Rocco

As Rocco sat silently, overwhelmed with confusion and doubt, Sylas suddenly gripped his shoulders firmly.

"Ah—!"

The sheer force and passion in Sylas’s action made Rocco gasp, his gaze snapping upward.

Their eyes met.

Sylas’s amethyst-colored eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

He stared intently at Rocco, his voice rising as if pleading, as if desperate to make him understand.

"Rocco. Just listen to this one thing."

The resolute tone of Sylas’s voice left no room for argument.

Rocco couldn’t respond with but or because; the words dissolved on his lips, leaving him silent.

Sylas took a deep breath, and in the pause, his expression grew tense, his voice steady but filled with emotion.

"I love you, Rocco."

The words, spoken with a weight that felt like they carried the world, left Rocco frozen in place.

Rocco couldn’t help but let out a startled, unintelligent noise, something like a "Huhhh?!" in response to Sylas’s intense expression, which was filled with tension and seriousness.

He hoped Sylas could forgive him for the less-than-elegant reaction, considering how utterly shocked he was.

Surely, this was supposed to be one of those dramatic, emotional moments where tears would flow, and they’d embrace in a heartwarming display of affection.

However, Rocco had never been told "I love you" by a strikingly handsome young man before, and he couldn’t help but feel his face flush a deep red.

"Wh-what?! What did you just—?!"

Rocco’s voice came out in stammered fragments, his mind racing.

He wanted to shout something like, "What the heck?!" or "Are you serious?!"

However, the overwhelming embarrassment made it impossible to form coherent sentences.

All he managed was a jumbled, "What is this even about?!" in a tone that sounded more annoyed than he intended.

"I love you," Sylas repeated, his voice steady and unwavering. "I love you deeply, Rocco. So much."

"Wha—?!"

Hearing those words again, Rocco couldn’t help but make another startled sound, his eyes widening in disbelief.

Sylas nodded his head earnestly, repeating, "I love you."

His tone was almost mechanical, as if saying it over and over would make his feelings undeniable.

The sincerity in Sylas’s expression and voice was disarming, and for a moment, Rocco let his guard down.

But the thought that this could all be some calculated move to manipulate him crossed his mind, making his mood sink.

Even so, the intense earnestness in Sylas’s voice and expression didn’t seem like a lie.

"...You’re not lying, are you?"

Rocco furrowed his brows as he asked cautiously, trying to maintain a serious expression despite his confusion.

Sylas immediately nodded, his conviction clear.

It didn’t feel like a lie.

But then, why?

Rocco couldn’t shake the memory of how Sylas had clearly disliked him at one point—just like their father.

If Sylas had truly loved him all along, then why had Rocco been treated with such cold indifference, confined to the annex and ignored?

If Sylas had cared, he could have intervened with their father at any time.

Instead, he had shown no concern for Rocco’s well-being, and that history made it hard not to question the sincerity of his words.

As if sensing Rocco’s suspicion, Sylas’s breath hitched, and he looked away momentarily, exhaling with a hint of discomfort.

"Is there... something you need to tell me?" Rocco asked hesitantly, watching Sylas as he rubbed the back of his neck and looked down.

His posture—regretful, hesitant—suggested there was indeed something he wasn’t saying.

If Sylas truly loved Rocco, then he needed to show proof of it.

Rocco was in an invincible state of mind—so even if Sylas suddenly said, "Just kidding, I don’t love you," he wouldn’t be hurt at all.

This was Rocco’s absolute advantage.

It was Sylas who needed to provide evidence of his feelings, while Rocco held the power to judge it.

When Rocco hesitantly asked his question, Sylas remained silent for a few seconds.

Then, as if steeling himself, he raised his head with determination.

"...Yes. I have so many confessions to make to you, Rocco."

As Sylas uttered those quiet words, Rocco’s father, who had been silently observing Sylas’s actions, suddenly stood up.

"What now?" Rocco blinked in confusion as his father approached him, only to kneel on the floor and bow his head solemnly.

"W-what are you doing, Father?!"

Panicking, Rocco stammered as cold sweat ran down his back.

His father, however, simply gave a wry smile and murmured softly.

"...I can’t let my son outdo me."

"W-wait, what does that mean?"

Rocco tilted his head in confusion, staring at his father.

His father, with a faint blush on his cheeks, mumbled something under his breath that was too quiet for Rocco to catch.

Leaning in closer, Rocco asked, "What? What did you say?" His father took a deep breath, covering his lightly reddened cheeks and mouth with a large hand, and repeated his words more clearly this time.

"I love you too, Rocco."

"Wha—?!"

Now his father was joining the "I love you" attack?!

The once-serious atmosphere was utterly shattered. fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com

Rocco’s face flushed a deep crimson, and he couldn’t stop his body from fidgeting nervously.

Moving seemed to be the only way to calm his racing heart.

"Rocco, listen," Sylas said, his gaze unwavering. "We’re going to tell you everything now—so you’ll never have to feel uncertain again."

Sylas’s sincere eyes locked onto his, and Rocco froze.

His bright red face gradually returned to its normal color.

Straightening his posture, he turned to face the two of them.

With a small nod, Rocco signaled his readiness.

Both Sylas and his father exhaled a sigh of relief.

At last, it seemed they were finally going to have an honest conversation.

Feeling the tension in his shoulders ease slightly, Rocco braced himself for what was to come.

...

"What on earth is going on?"

Just moments after being pulled away from his master’s side against his will, Ragar found himself outside the study room.

Normally, he would have stubbornly clung to the door, unwilling to leave.